美国恐怖故事第一季

两个熊孩子因为叛逆任性无所顾忌的闯入房子大肆搞破坏，所以over了。

两个看家的护士被变态杀手杀害。

一个自命不凡实际碌碌无为的医生被他整天埋怨生活不如意、老公无能力的少妇杀死，然后少妇自杀，留下了一个杀也杀不死的手术怪物。

美艳的保姆被男主人盯上后终于被女主人发现，然后两个人都被枪杀。

这个女主人有个怪胎儿子，终于有一天她再也受不了了，让情人捂死了他。

这个女主人同样有个儿子，不过是相貌英俊点，却因为母亲找了个情人并且光明正大的带回了家、自己的弟弟还死于这个男人之手，所以他恨死了这个男人，在磕了药后枪杀了同学，最后被警察乱枪射死，死后还忘记了一切，变得呆萌痴情，内心深处却又是记得这自己所犯的过错的。

在死后还杀死了两个玻璃、强奸了女神的妈妈导致她怀了一个恶魔后难产死了，这个死也是他间接造成的。

这个女主人还有个丑到爆的女儿，第一次被同意戴上漂亮的头套，却看不清路上的车子，被撞死了。

这个女主人的情人为了她，坚决要离婚，他的老婆受不了打击，自己放火烧死了两个孩子和自己。

这个女主人还找了一个身材健美的小情人，最终因为贪色、在爽完之后想回到老女人身边、引起小三的不爽而被杀死。

大丽花的女主，因为去私人医生那看牙齿，被误杀了。

惊慌失措的医生将她拖进地下室后，被神秘医生接手，帮他处理了这具尸体。

这部剧重点是将一个一家三口的家庭，男的劈腿于自己的学生，被老婆抓奸在床，本想离婚，但是男的苦苦哀求，后到了这幢鬼宅准备重新开始，没想到最终一家三口都死在这里，还有了一个鬼宝宝。

女儿是自己吞药死的，老婆是难产死的，老公是被小三叫来的鬼魂联合吊死的。

一家三口终于重新团聚，美艳的保姆心底还是善良的，告诉他们，今后他们的指责就是，吓跑所有搬进这幢鬼宅的人，挽救他们的性命。

最后一集，继他们之后的第一户人家住进来了，然后他们很尽责的在第一天晚上就把他们连夜吓跑了。

看着他们仓皇逃走的车影，三个人感慨万千。

ps：女主怀了两个，有一个是恶魔，渐渐的把另一个胎儿吃掉了才对，所以存活的应该只有一个，就是一开始说是带他去洗澡、其实自己抱走了的那个。

那个女人知道他是她的亲外孙，所以特别的想要这个孩子。

这个孩子后被男主强行抱走，男主却遭遇不测，孩子又被三儿抢走，之后忘了怎么发展的了。。。

反正最后那个整天埋怨生活不如意、老公无能力的少妇得到了孩子，却无法照看他，终于被女主听到孩子的哭声后发现，然后被女主抱走了。

少妇说这个孩子刚生下来哭了一声后就死了，所以这孩子应该是个鬼宝宝。

片尾，那个女人请来的保姆被一个小男孩杀死，我想知道这个小男孩就是女主抱着的鬼宝宝长大后的么？

还是女主怀的两个，一个是鬼一个是人，都生存着、长大了？

（by Charlotte Perkins Gilman）It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer.A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity--but that would be asking too much of fate!Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it.Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood so long untenanted?John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith, an intense horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in figures.John is a physician, and PERHAPS--(I would not say it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind)--PERHAPS that is one reason I do not get well faster.You see he does not believe I am sick!And what can one do?If a physician of high standing, and one's own husband, assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression--a slight hysterical tendency--what is one to do?My brother is also a physician, and also of high standing, and he says the same thing.So I take phosphates or phosphites--whichever it is, and tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to "work" until I am well again.Personally, I disagree with their ideas.Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change, would do me good.But what is one to do?I did write for a while in spite of them; but it DOES exhaust me a good deal--having to be so sly about it, or else meet with heavy opposition.I sometimes fancy that my condition if I had less opposition and more society and stimulus--but John says the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition, and I confess it always makes me feel bad.So I will let it alone and talk about the house.The most beautiful place! It is quite alone, standing well back from the road, quite three miles from the village. It makes me think of English places that you read about, for there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, and lots of separate little houses for the gardeners and people.There is a DELICIOUS garden! I never saw such a garden--large and shady, full of box-bordered paths, and lined with long grape-covered arbors with seats under them.There were greenhouses, too, but they are all broken now.There was some legal trouble, I believe, something about the heirs and coheirs; anyhow, the place has been empty for years.That spoils my ghostliness, I am afraid, but I don't care--there is something strange about the house--I can feel it.I even said so to John one moonlight evening, but he said what I felt was a DRAUGHT, and shut the window.I get unreasonably angry with John sometimes. I'm sure I never used to be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition.But John says if I feel so, I shall neglect proper self-control; so I take pains to control myself--before him, at least, and that makes me very tired. I don't like our room a bit. I wanted one downstairs that opened on the piazza and had roses all over the window, and such pretty old-fashioned chintz hangings! but John would not hear of it.He said there was only one window and not room for two beds, and no near room for him if he took another.He is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without special direction.I have a schedule prescription for each hour in the day; he takes all care from me, and so I feel basely ungrateful not to value it more.He said we came here solely on my account, that I was to have perfect rest and all the air I could get. "Your exercise depends on your strength, my dear," said he, "and your food somewhat on your appetite; but air you can absorb all the time." So we took the nursery at the top of the house.It is a big, airy room, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, and air and sunshine galore. It was nursery first and then playroom and gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for little children, and there are rings and things in the walls.The paint and paper look as if a boys' school had used it. It is stripped off--the paper--in great patches all around the head of my bed, about as far as I can reach, and in a great place on the other side of the room low down. I never saw a worse paper in my life.One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin.It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide--plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions.The color is repelllent, almost revolting; a smouldering unclean yellow, strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight.It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint in others.No wonder the children hated it! I should hate it myself if I had to live in this room long.There comes John, and I must put this away,he hates to have me write a word.We have been here two weeks, and I haven't felt like writing before, since that first day.I am sitting by the window now, up in this atrocious nursery, and there is nothing to hinder my writing as much as I please, save lack of strength.John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious. I am glad my case is not serious!But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing.John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is noREASON to suffer, and that satisfies him.Of course it is only nervousness. It does weigh on me so not to do myduty in any way!I meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, andhere I am a comparative burden already!Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able,to dress and entertain, and other things.It is fortunate Mary is so good with the baby. Such a dear baby!And yet I CANNOT be with him, it makes me so nervous.I suppose John never was nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about this wall-paper!At first he meant to repaper the room, but afterwards he said that I was letting it get the better of me, and that nothing was worse for a nervous patient than to give way to such fancies.He said that after the wall-paper was changed it would be the heavy bedstead, and then the barred windows, and then that gate at the head of the stairs, and so on."You know the place is doing you good," he said, "and really, dear, I don't care to renovate the house just for a three months' rental.""Then do let us go downstairs," I said, "there are such pretty rooms there."Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little goose, and said he would go down to the cellar, if I wished, and have it whitewashed into the bargain.But he is right enough about the beds and windows and things.It is an airy and comfortable room as any one need wish, and, of course, I would not be so silly as to make him uncomfortable just for a whim.I'm really getting quite fond of the big room, all but that horrid paper.Out of one window I can see the garden, those mysterious deepshaded arbors, the riotous old-fashioned flowers, and bushes and gnarly trees.Out of another I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf belonging to the estate. There is a beautiful shaded lane that runs down there from the house. I always fancy I see people walking in these numerous paths and arbors, but John has cautioned me not to give way to fancy in the least. He says that with my imaginative power and habit of story-making, a nervous weakness like mine is sure to lead to all manner of excited fancies, and that I ought to use my will and good sense to check the tendency. So I try.I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a little it would relieve the press of ideas and rest me.But I find I get pretty tired when I try.It is so discouraging not to have any advice and companionship aboutmy work. When I get really well, John says we will ask Cousin Henry and Julia down for a long visit; but he says he would as soon put fireworks in my pillow-case as to let me have those stimulating people about now.I wish I could get well faster.But I must not think about that. This paper looks to me as if it KNEW what a vicious influence it had!There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside down.I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the everlastingness. Up and down and sideways they crawl, and those absurd, unblinking eyes are everywhere. There is one place where two breadths didn't match, and the eyes go all up and down the line, one a little higher than the other.I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before, and we all know how much expression they have! I used to lie awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most children could find in a toy store.I remember what a kindly wink the knobs of our big, old bureau used to have, and there was one chair that always seemed like a strong friend.I used to feel that if any of the other things looked too fierce I could always hop into that chair and be safe.The furniture in this room is no worse than inharmonious, however, for we had to bring it all from downstairs. I suppose when this was used as a playroom they had to take the nursery things out, and no wonder! I never saw such ravages as the children have made here.The wall-paper, as I said before, is torn off in spots, and it sticketh closer than a brother--they must have had perseverance as well as hatred.Then the floor is scratched and gouged and splintered, the plaster itself is dug out here and there, and this great heavy bed which is all we found in the room, looks as if it had been through the wars.But I don't mind it a bit--only the paper. There comes John's sister. Such a dear girl as she is, and so careful of me! I must not let her find me writing.She is a perfect and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which made me sick!But I can write when she is out, and see her a long way off from these windows.There is one that commands the road, a lovely shaded winding road, and one that just looks off over the country. A lovely country, too, full of great elms and velvet meadows.This wall-paper has a kind of sub-pattern in a different shade, a particularly irritating one, for you can only see it in certain lights, and not clearly then.But in the places where it isn't faded and where the sun is just so--I can see a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure, that seems to skulk about behind that silly and conspicuous front design.There's sister on the stairs!Well, the Fourth of July is over! The people are gone and I am tiredout. John thought it might do me good to see a little company, so we just had mother and Nellie and the children down for a week.Of course I didn't do a thing. Jennie sees to everything now.But it tired me all the same.John says if I don't pick up faster he shall send me to Weir Mitchell inthe fall.But I don't want to go there at all. I had a friend who was in his handsonce, and she says he is just like John and my brother, only more so! Besides, it is such an undertaking to go so far.I don't feel as if it was worth while to turn my hand over for anything,and I'm getting dreadfully fretful and querulous.I cry at nothing, and cry most of the time.Of course I don't when John is here, or anybody else, but when I amalone.And I am alone a good deal just now. John is kept in town very oftenby serious cases, and Jennie is good and lets me alone when I want her to.So I walk a little in the garden or down that lovely lane, sit on the porch under the roses, and lie down up here a good deal.I'm getting really fond of the room in spite of the wall-paper. Perhaps BECAUSE of the wall-paper.It dwells in my mind so!I lie here on this great immovable bed--it is nailed down, I believe-- and follow that pattern about by the hour. It is as good as gymnastics, I assure you. I start, we'll say, at the bottom, down in the corner over there where it has not been touched, and I determine for the thousandth time that I WILL follow that pointless pattern to some sort of a conclusion.I know a little of the principle of design, and I know this thing was not arranged on any laws of radiation, or alternation, or repetition, or symmetry, or anything else that I ever heard of.It is repeated, of course, by the breadths, but not otherwise.Looked at in one way each breadth stands alone, the bloated curves and flourishes--a kind of "debased Romanesque" with delirium tremens-- go waddling up and down in isolated columns of fatuity.But, on the other hand, they connect diagonally, and the sprawling outlines run off in great slanting waves of optic horror, like a lot of wallowing seaweeds in full chase.The whole thing goes horizontally, too, at least it seems so, and I exhaust myself in trying to distinguish the order of its going in that direction.They have used a horizontal breadth for a frieze, and that adds wonderfully to the confusion.There is one end of the room where it is almost intact, and there, when the crosslights fade and the low sun shines directly upon it, I can almost fancy radiation after all,--the interminable grotesques seem to form around a common centre and rush off in headlong plunges of equal distraction.It makes me tired to follow it. I will take a nap I guess. I don't know why I should write this.I don't want to.I don't feel able.And I know John would think it absurd. But I MUST say what I feel and think in some way--it is such a relief!But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief.Half the time now I am awfully lazy, and lie down ever so much.John says I musn't lose my strength, and has me take cod liver oil andlots of tonics and things, to say nothing of ale and wine and rare meat. Dear John! He loves me very dearly, and hates to have me sick. I tried to have a real earnest reasonable talk with him the other day, and tell him how I wish he would let me go and make a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia.But he said I wasn't able to go, nor able to stand it after I got there; and I did not make out a very good case for myself, for I was crying before I had finished.It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Just this nervous weakness I suppose.And dear John gathered me up in his arms, and just carried me upstairs and laid me on the bed, and sat by me and read to me till it tired my head.He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had, and that I must take care of myself for his sake, and keep well.He says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my will and self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me.There's one comfort, the baby is well and happy, and does not have to occupy this nursery with the horrid wall-paper.If we had not used it, that blessed child would have! What a fortunate escape! Why, I wouldn't have a child of mine, an impressionable little thing, live in such a room for worlds.I never thought of it before, but it is lucky that John kept me here after all, I can stand it so much easier than a baby, you see.Of course I never mention it to them any more--I am too wise,--but I keep watch of it all the same.There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will. Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day.It is always the same shape, only very numerous.And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind thatpattern. I don't like it a bit. I wonder--I begin to think--I wish John would take me away from here!It is so hard to talk with John about my case, because he is so wise,and because he loves me so.But I tried it last night.It was moonlight. The moon shines in all around just as the sun does.I hate to see it sometimes, it creeps so slowly, and always comes in byone window or another.John was asleep and I hated to waken him, so I kept still and watchedthe moonlight on that undulating wall-paper till I felt creepy.The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern, just as if shewanted to get out.I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper DID move, andwhen I came back John was awake."What is it, little girl?" he said. "Don't go walking about like that--you'll get cold."I though it was a good time to talk, so I told him that I really was notgaining here, and that I wished he would take me away."Why darling!" said he, "our lease will be up in three weeks, and Ican't see how to leave before."The repairs are not done at home, and I cannot possibly leave townjust now. Of course if you were in any danger, I could and would, but you really are better, dear, whether you can see it or not. I am a doctor, dear, and I know. You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is better, I feel really much easier about you.""I don't weigh a bit more," said I, "nor as much; and my appetite may be better in the evening when you are here, but it is worse in the morning when you are away!""Bless her little heart!" said he with a big hug, "she shall be as sick as she pleases! But now let's improve the shining hours by going to sleep, and talk about it in the morning!""And you won't go away?" I asked gloomily."Why, how can I, dear? It is only three weeks more and then we will take a nice little trip of a few days while Jennie is getting the house ready. Really dear you are better!""Better in body perhaps--" I began, and stopped short, for he sat up straight and looked at me with such a stern, reproachful look that I could not say another word."My darling," said he, "I beg of you, for my sake and for our child's sake, as well as for your own, that you will never for one instant let that idea enter your mind! There is nothing so dangerous, so fascinating, to a temperament like yours. It is a false and foolish fancy. Can you not trust me as a physician when I tell you so?"So of course I said no more on that score, and we went to sleep before long. He thought I was asleep first, but I wasn't, and lay there for hours trying to decide whether that front pattern and the back pattern really did move together or separately.On a pattern like this, by daylight, there is a lack of sequence, a defiance of law, that is a constant irritant to a normal mind. The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but the pattern is torturing.You think you have mastered it, but just as you get well underway in following, it turns a back-somersault and there you are. It slaps you in the face, knocks you down, and tramples upon you. It is like a bad dream.The outside pattern is a florid arabesque, reminding one of a fungus. If you can imagine a toadstool in joints, an interminable string of toadstools, budding and sprouting in endless convolutions--why, that is something like it.That is, sometimes!There is one marked peculiarity about this paper, a thing nobody seems to notice but myself,and that is that it changes as the light changes.When the sun shoots in through the east window--I always watch for that first long, straight ray--it changes so quickly that I never can quite believe it.That is why I watch it always.By moonlight--the moon shines in all night when there is a moon--I wouldn't know it was the same paper.At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candle light, lamplight, and worst of all by moonlight, it becomes bars! The outside pattern I mean,and the woman behind it is as plain as can be.I didn't realize for a long time what the thing was that showed behind,that dim sub-pattern, but now I am quite sure it is a woman.By daylight she is subdued, quiet. I fancy it is the pattern that keepsher so still. It is so puzzling. It keeps me quiet by the hour.I lie down ever so much now. John says it is good for me, and to sleepall I can.Indeed he started the habit by making me lie down for an hour aftereach meal.It is a very bad habit I am convinced, for you see I don't sleep.And that cultivates deceit, for I don't tell them I'm awake--O no!The fact is I am getting a little afraid of John.He seems very queer sometimes, and even Jennie has an inexplicablelook.It strikes me occasionally, just as a scientific hypothesis,--that perhapsit is the paper!I have watched John when he did not know I was looking, and comeinto the room suddenly on the most innocent excuses, and I've caught him several times LOOKING AT THE PAPER! And Jennie too. I caught Jennie with her hand on it once.She didn't know I was in the room, and when I asked her in a quiet, a very quiet voice, with the most restrained manner possible, what she was doing with the paper--she turned around as if she had been caught stealing, and looked quite angry--asked me why I should frighten her so!Then she said that the paper stained everything it touched, that she had found yellow smooches on all my clothes and John's, and she wished we would be more careful!Did not that sound innocent? But I know she was studying that pattern, and I am determined that nobody shall find it out but myself!Life is very much more exciting now than it used to be. You see I have something more to expect, to look forward to, to watch. I really do eat better, and am more quiet than I was.John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day, and said I seemed to be flourishing in spite of my wall-paper.I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intention of telling him it was BECAUSE of the wall-paper--he would make fun of me. He might even want to take me away.I don't want to leave now until I have found it out. There is a week more, and I think that will be enough.I'm feeling ever so much better! I don't sleep much at night, for it is so interesting to watch developments; but I sleep a good deal in the daytime.In the daytime it is tiresome and perplexing.There are always new shoots on the fungus, and new shades of yellow all over it. I cannot keep count of them, though I have tried conscientiously.It is the strangest yellow, that wall-paper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw--not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things.But there is something else about that paper--the smell! I noticed it the moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here.It creeps alll over the house.I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs.It gets into my hair.Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it-- there is that smell!Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find what it smelled like.It is not bad--at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most enduring odor I ever met.In this damp weather it is awful, I wake up in the night and find it hanging over me.It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house-- to reach the smell.But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the COLOR of the paper! A yellow smell.There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard.A streak that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture, except the bed, a long, straight, even SMOOCH, as if it had been rubbed over and over.I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for. Round and round and round--round and round and round--it makes me dizzy!I really have discovered something at last.Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finallyfound out.The front pattern DOES move--and no wonder! The woman behindshakes it!Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, andsometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over.Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard.And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern--it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads.They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside down, and makes their eyes white!If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad. I think that woman gets out in the daytime!And I'll tell you why--privately--I've seen her!I can see her out of every one of my windows!It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and mostwomen do not creep by daylight.I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines.I don't blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caughtcreeping by daylight!I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. I can't do it at night,for I know John would suspect something at once.And John is so queer now, that I don't want to irritate him. I wish hewould take another room! Besides, I don't want anybody to get that woman out at night but myself.I often wonder if I could see her out of all the windows at once.But, turn as fast as I can, I can only see out of one at a time.And though I always see her, she MAY be able to creep faster than Ican turn!I have watched her sometimes away off in the open country, creepingas fast as a cloud shadow in a high wind.If only that top pattern could be gotten off from the under one! I meanto try it, little by little.I have found out another funny thing, but I shan't tell it this time! Itdoes not do to trust people too much.There are only two more days to get this paper off, and I believe Johnis beginning to notice. I don't like the look in his eyes.And I heard him ask Jennie a lot of professional questions about me.She had a very good report to give.She said I slept a good deal in the daytime.John knows I don't sleep very well at night, for all I'm so quiet!He asked me all sorts of questions, too, and pretended to be veryloving and kind.As if I couldn't see through him!Still, I don't wonder he acts so, sleeping under this paper for threemonths.It only interests me, but I feel sure John and Jennie are secretlyaffected by it.Hurrah! This is the last day, but it is enough. John is to stay in townover night, and won't be out until this evening.Jennie wanted to sleep with me--the sly thing! but I told her I shouldundoubtedly rest better for a night all alone.That was clever, for really I wasn't alone a bit! As soon as it wasmoonlight and that poor thing began to crawl and shake the pattern, I got up and ran to help her.I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper.A strip about as high as my head and half around the room.And then when the sun came and that awful pattern began to laugh at me, I declared I would finish it to-day!We go away to-morrow, and they are moving all my furniture down again to leave things as they were before.Jennie looked at the wall in amazement, but I told her merrily that I did it out of pure spite at the vicious thing.She laughed and said she wouldn't mind doing it herself, but I must not get tired.How she betrayed herself that time!But I am here, and no person touches this paper but me--not ALIVE! She tried to get me out of the room--it was too patent! But I said it wasso quiet and empty and clean now that I believed I would lie down again and sleep all I could; and not to wake me even for dinner--I would call when I woke.So now she is gone, and the servants are gone, and the things are gone, and there is nothing left but that great bedstead nailed down, with the canvas mattress we found on it.We shall sleep downstairs to-night, and take the boat home to-morrow. I quite enjoy the room, now it is bare again.How those children did tear about here!This bedstead is fairly gnawed!But I must get to work.I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the front path.I don't want to go out, and I don't want to have anybody come in, tillJohn comes.I want to astonish him.I've got a rope up here that even Jennie did not find. If that womandoes get out, and tries to get away, I can tie her!But I forgot I could not reach far without anything to stand on!This bed will NOT move!I tried to lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit off a little piece at one corner--but it hurt my teeth.Then I peeled off all the paper I could reach standing on the floor. Itsticks horribly and the pattern just enjoys it! All those strangled heads and bulbous eyes and waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision!I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out of the window would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong even to try.Besides I wouldn't do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a step like that is improper and might be misconstrued.I don't like to LOOK out of the windows even--there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast.I wonder if they all come out of that wall-paper as I did?But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope--you don't get ME out in the road there!I suppose I shall have to get back behind the pattern when it comes night, and that is hard!It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please!I don't want to go outside. I won't, even if Jennie asks me to.For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of yellow.But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way.Why there's John at the door!It is no use, young man, you can't open it!How he does call and pound!Now he's crying for an axe.It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door!"John dear!' said I in the gentlest voice, "the key is down by the frontsteps, under a plantain leaf!"That silenced him for a few moments.Then he said--very quietly indeed, "Open the door, my darling!""I can't", said I. "The key is down by the front door under a plantainleaf!"And then I said it again, several times, very gently and slowly, and said it so often that he had to go and see, and he got it of course, and came in. He stopped short by the door."What is the matter?" he cried. "For God's sake, what are you doing!"I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder. "I've got out at last," said I, "in spite of you and Jane. And I've pulledoff most of the paper, so you can't put me back!"Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right acrossmy path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!

在我有限的美剧观影记录中，情景喜剧总是占据了半壁江山，什么《摩登家庭》、《杰西驾到》、《破产姐妹》以及据说终于要完结了的《生活大爆炸》。

我猜我如此钟情情景喜剧和大多数人认为它们实际上非常无聊的原因背道而驰。

是的，实际上，它们非常有意思，不仅短小精悍而且充满密集的笑点，以及有意思的情节。

再加一点必不可少的黄段子，和浓度适中的正能量。

要知道，现在的美剧导演大部分都是迷影，他们观看过大量的好莱坞电影以及欧洲艺术片，因此很难抑制自己在作品中进行戏仿或者致敬，更不介意直接拿其中的某几场戏进行高度还原，这种小游戏也成为大部分热衷美剧的观众与导演之间的互动。

更别提电影中那些数不清楚的彩蛋。

而今天，我要聊的这部美剧，在观众席间还有另一个名字——《美国色情故事》。

它在情节上的惊悚和血腥总包裹着大胆的性爱表现方式，对欲望的揭露也总是那样直言不讳。

这部美剧就是《美国恐怖故事》开播至今，《美国恐怖故事》已经五季，每季为一个独立的故事单元，故事构思来源于美国历史上真实发生的灵异事件或者触目惊心的谋杀案，不可否认的是，表象上的猎奇元素为它赢得不俗收视的同时也是《美国恐怖故事》备受争议的原因。

五季《美国恐怖故事》的故事构思都有一个相似的框架，人物塑造上都有非常雷同的性格，比如主角总是有些mommy issues。

他们要么处理不好和母亲的关系，要么总有些乱伦倾向，比如第一季《美国恐怖故事：谋杀屋》中的泰特，他认为自己幼年时被父亲抛弃的原因是因为母亲放荡的行为，所以他把自己的不幸全部归咎于他的母亲康丝坦斯身上。

更是放火烧伤母亲的男朋友，在校园展开血腥屠杀。

如果有的人生来就是魔鬼，泰特肯定算得上是其中之一。

第二季《美国恐怖故事：疯人院》中血脸杀手的杀人动机则更纯粹，缺少母爱。

这直接导致了他剥离女性肌肤，渴望温暖爱抚等一系列变态行为。

其后的第三季《女巫集会》、第四季《畸形秀》、第五季《旅馆》中，主人公都有性格上的相似缺陷，而造成这些缺陷的原因惊人的相似，你很难不怀疑瑞恩·墨菲（《美国恐怖故事》的编剧、导演以及制作人）创造这些人物背后的动机。

弑母更是其中动不动就会出现的情节。

第三季中的弑母情节高达三、四次。

平均每季都会出现那么一两次，不是子女亲手杀死母亲，就是恨不得母亲赶紧去死。

当然也有弑父情节。

大概杀红了眼，管你是谁谁谁。

瑞恩·墨菲和他母亲关系肯定不好吧。。。

与此同时，这些人物还有一个明确的行动主线，而这些行动主线往往来源于那些已经扬名立万的影视佳作。

第一季《谋杀屋》中不仅借鉴了美国历史上许多臭名昭著的连环杀人案，更有对曼森案的指涉以及《罗斯玛丽的婴儿》的戏仿。

一个怀孕的母亲，住在一所令人不安的房子，周围的人都认为她疯了，她的丈夫也不相信她，虽然境况好过《罗斯玛丽的婴儿》中罗斯玛丽的丈夫与魔鬼盟誓，出卖妻子的子宫孕育撒旦之子，但两厢比较下，前者也没有幸运到哪里去，同样上演了生吃猪脑、备受腹中魔鬼之子折磨的戏码。

但《美国恐怖故事》的精明之处在于它不会只用这一种单薄的故事线支撑13集的内容，于是衍生出的其他支线同样充满诱惑力，比如第一季中的黑色大丽花、科学怪人弗兰肯斯坦、美国校园屠杀案等。

你能说这些又猎奇又奇情的故事对你没有一丝吸引力？

同时，每个人物的背后都有一个独立的前传，以此解释了他们现在的行为动机，这组成了《美国恐怖故事》最重要的一个环节，每个人物的形象都非常立体饱满，他们背后的故事同样又扭曲又变态，展开来写都能单独出一个剧集。

因而《美恐》不仅成就了许多演员，后续剧集也邀请了三位奥斯卡影后坐镇，第五季的主演Lady Gaga更是凭此剧封后。

这三位分别是安吉拉·贝赛特，杰西卡·兰格以及凯西·贝茨。

这都是演技被奥斯卡肯定过的女人们啊。

而兰姨（杰西卡·兰格）更是《美恐》的灵魂人物，第三季和第四季几乎是为她量身打造。

也许就是为了平衡兰姨在剧中的演技，后面才请来了安吉拉·贝赛特和凯西·贝茨。

如果你还没有看过凯西·贝茨的《危情十日》，你一定要去看看这部能把人吓尿的心理恐怖片。

第二季《疯人院》是我认为《美恐》中最屌炸天的一季，我给它打101分，剩下一分留给它骄傲。

同时，这也是《美恐》五季中唯一全网禁播的一季。

豆瓣上也根本找不到这季的词条和相关介绍。

这季的灵感来源于美国B级片大师塞缪尔·富勒的《恐怖走廊》。

《恐怖走廊》讲述的是一个充满野心的记者潜入精神病院挖取重磅新闻，最后却在这所泯灭人性的医院里疯掉的故事。

《疯人院》的故事框架和它如出一辙，同样是想要获得普利策奖的野心记者，同样为了调查一件谋杀案潜入医院，不同的是，《疯人院》还狠狠地讽刺了天主教，几乎是颠覆了美国传统的宗教信仰，不仅肯定外星人的存在，还调侃了天主教在美国某些地区强大的势力，这和今年奥斯卡最佳影片多么相得益彰。

而精神病院中那些电击疗法、水疗和一些残忍的虐待都曾经真实的发生过。

还有臭名昭著的额前叶切除手术。

片中对同性恋进行的厌恶转换疗法同样致敬了库布里克的《发条橙子》。

在这里，修女是放荡的婊子，身上背负着人命，黑色的修女服下是她廉价的红色内衣。

主教大人则忙着和撒旦附身的小可爱修女啪啪啪。

这么一部明摆着有信仰的人都龌龊恶心肮脏的剧，你不能指望美国人民给出什么好评，因此这一季也是五季中最不受待见的一季。

但编剧的脑洞开的真的不是一般大，除了精神病、外星人、同性恋等元素，《疯人院》还乱入了安妮·弗兰克，乱入了德国纳粹，以及骇人的人体试验。

How wonderful不过从第三季开始，《美恐》有点跑偏，显然瑞恩·墨菲作为一个小基佬，开始控制不住的在片中大放福利。

没错，就是后来《美恐》被称为《美国色情故事》的开端，第五季《旅馆》我以为我看的是一部GV。

前两季最多是AV。

孔雀美好的肉体在片中一览无遗，有多少人是奔着这个去看的美恐5《旅馆》，而开拍前说好的根据蓝可儿事件得到的启发，全片也没能看见和蓝可儿有关的半毛钱线索。

通篇都是啪啪啪，杀杀杀。

第四季《畸形秀》的灵感则来源于《畸形人》，但我看完印象最深的却是片中提出的一个概念。

虐杀电影（snuff film）。

据说虐杀电影是真的存在的，一些丧心病狂的人会诱骗一些有明星梦的妓女或者邻家女孩之类的，然后在拍摄过程中真实的实施强暴、肢解等血腥暴力的行为。

然后将这些录像带兜售出去，记得大卫·柯南伯格的《录像带谋杀案》就讲述的相关内容。

啧啧啧。

想想就酸爽。

扯远了。

好吧，那今天的推送不如就到此结束吧。

跑远了我也不知道我后面想说什么来着。

图文并茂：http://mp.weixin.qq.com/s?__biz=MzAwODgwOTc1NQ==&mid=402821759&idx=1&sn=4b03d29af68093d52978849519fc0961#rd

看完第八集。。。。。

被震撼到了。

恶鬼很多，这么渣的鬼我第一次见啊。

老草嫩草一起啃有木有啊！

雄的雌的生冷不计有木有啊！

欲擒故纵装可怜有木有啊！

《美国恐怖故事》第一季的场景是谋杀屋，由迪伦·麦克德莫特 （Dylan McDermott ）饰演男主本，康妮·布里登 （Connie Britton ）饰演Vivien，住进凶宅之后发生一连串的怪事；

本 剧中出现了一位亦老亦少的感女仆Moira（ 阿丽克丝·布莱肯瑞吉 Alexandra Breckenridge 饰）；能预知的诡异女孩Adelaide；穿黑色紧身橡胶服的神秘人；满脑子古怪念头的病人Tate（伊万·彼得斯 Evan Peters 饰），不请自来的邻居Constance（杰西卡·兰格 Jessica Lange 饰），令人不寒而栗的跟踪者Larry（丹尼斯·欧哈拉 Denis O'Hare 饰），来揭示鬼屋的秘密；

本和女儿 在快结束的时候，也揭示了本的女儿Violet也已死亡成为了在鬼屋的鬼魂，精彩的是由迪伦·麦克德莫特 （Dylan McDermott ）饰演的本有两场精彩的裸戏，激发性欲，还有就是出现的橡胶人也是； 亦老亦少的女仆、古怪念头的Tate、橡胶人都是有所关联，凶宅内所有的人物都有所联系，并且如果不是Ben一定要搬进凶宅，悲剧也不会发生，所有人就不会死亡，有因必有果。

原以为该剧恐怖不敢看，但对凶宅的题材又爱又害怕，那种未知的压抑的带有历史气息的神秘气氛很诱人，最后下定决心在春节里看了，想让喜气洋洋的气氛掩盖一些恐怖的元素，结果还是没有颠覆我对美国所谓恐怖片的认知，亚洲恐怖片才称的上恐怖两字，美剧惊悚两字就顶天。

本剧前几集还有悬疑的味道，后面竟然拍出了喜感，特别是随着一个一个鬼被困在凶宅里，从中看到了大家庭互帮互助的温暖，当众鬼齐心协力为男大丽花想办法出名的时候，我直接笑出了声。

虽然剧情新意不够，但就如之前所说，凶宅的题材本身具有吸引力，剧把凶宅和一些著名案件揉合在一起又增加了可看性，前几集逻辑也不错，节奏也不拖，男女主角努力改善家庭现状也符合美国主流价值观，但后半部分的画风跑偏，情节马马虎虎只是按惯性模式往下走，缺乏想象力，完全猜出剧情走向，悬疑两字彻底消失。

演员，年轻女管家的扮相又古典又色情，这样的矛盾集合体会迷死一堆观众；邻居Constance虽已至中年，但依旧妖艳迷人，演技赞。

扮演鬼医生、医生夫人、被烧伤男人、老年女管家的演员们，演技都是游刃有余。

原来只是个短评，结果超了字数。

看了最新季的美恐，想了一下，还是来到第一季写下影评。

大名鼎鼎的美国恐怖故事，无论是丰富的剧情，新奇的设定，拍摄的手法，都是FX的扛鼎之作。

怎么会演变的这么烂的？

其实从第五季已经开始走下坡路，一直到第七季，每部剧可圈可点，再加上前几季光环的加持，还是算优质剧。

最新这几季，啧，已经完全沦为烂片了。

前几季其实都不算惊悚片，只是有一些恐怖元素，更多的是对社会现实的映射，例如女巫那一季还有怪胎秀那一季。

第九季讲杀人狂，已经看出来FX就是为了恰饭了，本以为已经够烂了，好嘛，还来了个第十季，又是凶宅，又是神秘人，咱能换个套路吗？

主角跟鬼缠身似的，完全看不下去了已经。

注：虽然我觉得我已经很克制了，但搞不好还是有关键情节泄露…《美国恐怖故事》是走传统路线的鬼片。

在剧的开始，鬼宅里面确实是有一些“人”的，但是到了剧的结束，他们全都变成了鬼。

但是鬼分真假，有的人死了，但他们仍然是人；有的人活着，但他们已经是鬼。

当然，剧中也有一部分角色，他们活着的时候已然是鬼，死了以后是厉鬼，不能用常识衡量。

真正造就了鬼的，是狭隘的心胸、强大的执念以及极度不成熟的性格。

我觉得主要角色中，只有三个是正常的，其一是女主角Vivian，她很善良，也很通情达理，即便对丈夫有怀疑，也都有理有据。

其二是黑人警察，他在我的观美剧历史上，大概算是黑人第二帅吧（广告：第一帅是《波士顿法律》里面那个被唱歌女“偷袭”了的家伙），而且体格彪悍，稳重可靠，善解人意，从言谈举止间能感觉出来此人很有水平，如大海一般深沉（我在写什么…==）。

其三是女佣，她胸大，活好，装束性感，虽然永世不得超生，但是心地纯良得一塌糊涂，看到她就让人感到这个世界还是有希望的。

其余的都是神经病。

…至少也是烂人。

这群疯子的病因说来很好解释，都是执念太深、欲求不满，而且太拿自己当回事，所以怎么都转不过弯来，结果…就成这副德行了。

1）ConstanceConstance堪称烂人帮的个中翘楚，她虽风韵犹存，但眼神凶狠，周身散发出暴戾之气，竟然怀疑先天愚型的女儿Addy抢她的小白脸。

其实出于女性的本能，很多母亲都对亲生女儿抱有同性相妒之心，不过受制于良心与道德，生而为母，多少还是能够控制的。

但是像Constance这么一个聪明漂亮的人，先是演员梦受阻挠，再是丈夫出轨，之后连生N胎胎胎畸形，简直是在苦难中度过了她身为女人最好的二十年光阴。

适度的苦难是人生的磨练，然而过度的苦难会令人怨天尤人。

偏偏她这个人还很好斗好强，想必年轻貌美的时候做了太多荣华富贵的千秋大梦，却落得个晚景凄凉的下场，她虽然表面上说她全盘接受了，但内心一定是咽不下这口气的，这使她沦为一肚子小女生心思的老女人，想必这就是她的悲剧的成因。

她拒绝原谅，比如丈夫和女佣被她捉奸在床，她一定要炮制一场血案，齐射两发子弹，毁掉三人生活才罢休，就好比史上第一劳模伏地魔，能用“除你武器”解决的问题，一定要不厌其烦地用“阿瓦达索命！

”。

不得不提一下Jessica Lange的表演，姜确实是老的辣，她本人的气质其实是相当大方文雅的，但是Constance——颤抖的语调，似乎随时都要爆发的歇斯底里，都拿捏得极其精准，她无愧于两届奥斯卡影后，是真正的表演艺术家。

2）Tate & VioletTate长了一张天真无邪的恶魔脸，第一眼就欲罢不能，拿他当少年情圣。

直到昨天看Lindsay Anderson 1968年的《If》，才发觉Tate简直是Malcolm McDowell的翻版，其邪气大概也是自此而来。

Tate深得经典McDowell式角色的精髓——中二，他像《发条橙》一样暴虐，像《罗马帝国艳情史》一样空虚，当然，像《如果》一样操起了机关枪。

Tate很像学龄前的小孩子：每当有人指出他们上课说话或者没写作业，哪怕罪证确凿，他们也会把头别向一边，嗫嚅道：“我没有做…没有做…” 小孩子这样当然无妨，不过Tate已经死了三十多年，依然敢做不敢当，即便他犯下了不能原谅的重罪，却总想用眼泪和“Sorry”糊弄过去。

最后几集简直是Sorry大集合，一个Tate一个男主，两个傻逼满口“I’m sorry”没完没了，天可怜见，别再唱什么Sorry is the hardest word，这词儿被你们这些丝毫不懂担当的家伙弄得轻贱透顶。

Tate还有一招是抱怨疯疯癫癫的妈妈，措辞凶狠，好像在父母皆祸害小组发帖。

E12中男主已经给很精确的总结：很多人找心理医生，但这根本没用，他们付费只为了找个人听自己抱怨，然后他们就有动力继续逃避下去了。

我个人认为，动不动就把家庭因素和环境搬出来说事儿而不从自己身上找原因、不停地抱怨自己多么多么凄惨，不是成年人应有的行为。

Tate就跟《白夜行》中的雪穂一样，照理说已经到了不惑之年，还特么天天逼逼些少年维特之烦恼，喊些心是孤独的猎手啊我比烟花寂寞啊之类的屁话——关注我的朋友们应该都知道，我是一个非常中二的人，所以我特别见不得别人中二，怎么能在自怨自艾怨天尤人这方面抢了我的风头呢——所以对于Tate这种废柴，我实在是想摇晃着他的肩膀对他喷一顿吐沫星子：“连个童年阴影都克服不了，你他妈还能干什么？！

”再说Tate和Violet的惊世骇俗之恋。

起初我是很喜欢Violet的，作为一个韶华已逝的老女人，我打心眼里觉得她好看，乃至不反感她装逼学抽烟。

一开始我以为她是个《Juno》里面Ellen Page般的角色，后来剧情急转直下，她和Tate拉起了儿女情长，叛逆独立的气质荡然无存，sonic youth玩蛋去，就差给他们放my heart will go on了。

Tate贵为四十岁老少年，身负多条人命，竟然丝毫没有恋爱经验。

Violet更甚，她为了Tate自杀“未遂”，甚至不惜间接把亲妈送进了精神病院——大家初恋的时候都这样，都觉得世界就只有这么点大了。

可惜，本来呢这里面的，成年人一个个都苦大仇深心事重重，其间穿插的这对青少年couple，内心脆弱行事诡异，长相也都真心好，简直是天造地设的一对，我个半老徐娘简直都要重新相信爱情了——然后——一提起这个我就来气，编剧啊编剧，竟然把这俩人给黑化了。

总Boss Tate本身就已经是个把自己塞进SM橡皮衣里的大变态，不能用常识衡量，我不搭理他；但是，亲爱的Violet，你怎可如此贱逼呢？

这男的长得跟Malcolm McDowell似的，你还持续相信他？

更何况，哪里有劝自己亲妈去死的？

其实我们的Violet虽然一副智力很高，特立独行，很酷很优雅的样子，但看她碰到Tate那哭哭啼啼的德性，说明还是不折不扣的小女生——既然是小女生，就会想依靠别人来解决问题。

但她死了以后，和一群神经病鬼一起被圈在宅子里，遇到问题找不到警察，只好找爸爸妈妈。

她实在太害怕，无法面对孤零零又神经兮兮的死后生活，太需要平素唠唠叨叨的妈妈啦。

Tate和Violet的故事告诉我们一些道理：1、初恋的时候大家往往都十分当回事，最后才发觉都是放屁的，答案在风中飘荡——但往往已经造成了灾难性的后果，比如Violet，全家灭门。

2、成年人要敢作敢当，比如你十五岁的时候搞出了校园枪击案，三十年后，应该浑身上下充满亡命之徒的霸气，一挽袖子露出一胳膊纹身，不要哭哭啼啼的。

3、“我实在是太痛苦”、“我实在是太孤独”、以及最可恶的“我实在是太抱歉”都是禁句，它们会彻底摧毁观众对角色好感度并把他轰至渣。

4、年轻人不要老觉得爸妈是过时的，有问题还是要找爸爸妈妈。

有爸爸妈妈比有什么都强，有问题先沟通协商，不要急着上父母皆祸害小组发帖。

5、最重要的，不要使用蒙面的情趣用品啊啊啊啊啊啊！！！！！！！！！！！

3）烧伤男，Hayden，Travis有关小三的电影电视很多，像《日瓦戈医生》那类，小三得风雅万千，仅凭个人魅力击败同样是三好女子的原配，令人模糊了道德界限。

Hayden明显属于另一个片种，即毫无存在感的八十年代家庭伦理片，而且由Michael Douglas主演。

Hayden的问题，说穿了还是男主不好。

男主自觉风流倜傥，像每个心理医生一样，他除了性什么也不想，夫妻生活出了问题就四处勾搭小姑娘，但饶是他始乱终弃！

Hayden就成了个小怨妇。

Hayden活着的时候倒不至于像Constance那么恶毒，她顶多就是个小心眼的半大姑娘，但是很不幸，她还没能从男主弃她而去的阴影中恢复过来就一命呜呼了，于是面部彻底扭曲了不说，笑声举止也变得十分诡异放浪，使得观众愈发讨厌她——编导绝对是有意为之。

其实像Hayden的失恋加堕胎之绝望，人生中多少会经历上一两次，感觉世界一下塌陷了，地球也不转了，于是很多人就忍不住进入诅咒模式，期望别人不得好死，所有人都陪自己一起倒霉，世界末日就此降临，宇宙也一块大爆炸掉算了。

我感觉编导是想借厉鬼模式的Hayden劝一劝大家，时间总会洗刷掉不愉快的记忆，得不到要放手，纠缠不休太伤身体，退一步海阔天空。

与Hayden同病相怜的就是杀害她的烧伤男了。

烧伤男很丑但是很温柔，后面揭晓，原来是迷恋——呃，Constance多年，闹得家破人亡，仍然执迷不悟。

然而我倒是觉得他的所作所为，并不是真的出于爱情，而是因为他为Constance付出得实在太多，如果不收回来点什么，他实在没法咽下这口气，只好这么一直死缠烂打下去。

他和Hayden一样，无法放弃，无法面对真相，无法走出困境，无法变得坚强。

与他们形成鲜明对比的就是纯良的Travis，他可能是有一些恋母和受虐情结吧，对暴躁的Constance依恋得无以复加，而且他喜欢小孩子。

所以他的死后生活仍然是轻松愉快的，他不和自己过不去。

最后集体出动将西班牙裔家庭赶出鬼宅的一场戏，为鬼的性质做了一个划分：出动的那些鬼，仍然有被救赎的可能，他们是女佣口中的仍然保有善良的人，像严重畸形的Beau，也是很好的；而躲在阴暗角落的那些呢，大概只能永远孤独下去了。

《美国恐怖故事》的收视率据说相当喜人，平均350万，大结局突破500万，我本想发扬下和谐社会的精神，批判一下空虚、嗜血、罪恶、腐朽的资本主义美帝，然而诚如诸位所见，这其实是一部在我们这个糟糕的年代快要绝种了的传统家庭伦理剧，而且充满了说教腔和宿命感，价值观积极、健康、向上，恍若思想品德教材。

我认为这部剧适合阖家观赏，具有强身健体，提神醒脑，提高道德水平之功效，而且它很直白地告诉大家，要放宽心，要善良，要回归家庭，要信任家人，要学会担当，不要没事儿老搞基，也不要动不动就使用…呃，蒙面情趣用品。

THE END

康丝坦斯不是鬼，还活着。

但因为她的孩子们，她始终住在“隔壁”，因为她的孩子们也住着她的“隔壁”。

她有三个孩子，小波先天残疾，患有呼吸道感染之类的病，鬼脸人（被火烧伤的那位）当时是康丝坦斯的男人，为了减轻小波的痛苦而用枕头把他杀死在阁楼里。

康丝坦斯的原配丈夫由于和女佣通奸，康杀了自己的丈夫和女佣，男的被绞碎了喂了狗，没能还魂，所以一直没出现过。

女佣被埋在院子里，也就是那个亭子下边。

康丝坦斯的另一个儿子，泰特，浇汽油烧伤了自己的继爸，也就是鬼脸人，然后枪杀了图书馆里素不相识的甲乙丙丁张三李四等；泰特被警察射杀在鬼屋的房间里。

她的另一个女儿，丑兮兮但心肠很好的小阿，一开片盯着鬼屋看并且警告那对双胞胎丑男孩，是因为她能看到各种鬼魂，她经常跑进鬼屋，是因为她所谓的“朋友”都住在那。

但她后来在万圣节晚上被车撞死了。

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－外科医生：在地下室为各种女人堕胎，后来自己的孩子由于被报复而被杀害，医生将其肢解拼凑力图救活自己的孩子，但救活的孩子又被美丽而忧伤的妻子以为“他不是人，是怪物”而再次杀死，接着她把医生枪杀了自己也吞枪自杀，然后阴魂不散一直在鬼屋里寻找自己的孩子。

牙医：也在地下室里为各种女人补牙或其它手术，大丽花试图用自己的身体来付补牙费用，但被医生弄晕后强暴并意外死亡，这里已经是鬼的外科医生出现了，帮助牙医将大丽花的尸体分成2段，并做了个“微笑手术”后将尸体抛弃。

痛恨护士的变态男将胖护士淹死在鬼屋二楼的浴缸里，将年轻的瘦护士捆绑起来从背后将其刺死，而他自己呢？

剧中似乎没有交待，也或者是我看漏了。

鬼脸人的脸并不是自己纵火烧死妻子和2个女儿后再烧伤自己的。

他的妻子是由于听到自己的丈夫说要将隔壁的康丝坦斯弄进来当女主人，而悲痛地纵火将2个女儿烧死，当然也烧死了自己。

一辈子好基友的那两个GAY，死于已经是鬼的泰特之手。

鬼脸人连同男主角，杀了小三海登，将其与女佣埋在同一个坑里，也就是后院的亭子下边。

女佣杀了来买房的“波斯人”，是因为新买家准备推倒鬼屋盖公寓，会让一众鬼等没有居处。

小三海登杀了康丝坦斯的小白脸，是因为羡慕嫉妒恨，而鬼脸人认为对康丝坦斯有爱，而主动承担了杀小白脸的罪名。

泰特爱上了男主角的女儿，也就是小清新装扮的小瓦，但小瓦有一个通奸的父亲，有一个高龄受孕并不坚强的母亲，在学校受欺负，在家被鬼吓，终于问题少女吞药自杀而死，也变成了鬼，在最后一集体现出来了。

女主角肚子里的双胞胎，其中一个是泰特的，搞不懂的是泰特是不是也变态的，居然让自己所爱的小瓦的妈妈怀孕了。

泰特还杀了除西害的杀虫人，是因为杀虫人发现了小瓦的尸体。

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－第一季第10集看完，目前就是男主角、女主角、黑人保安、康丝坦斯，以及灵媒女，不是鬼以外，其它都是鬼。

剧情有点拖拉，剪辑有点乱，但还是值得一看的。

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－不知道我剧透得对不对，欢迎拍砖哈。

感觉有点草草结尾啊。

本来上星期看完e11感觉碉堡了，但到这集没有上集高能，甚至没有万圣节那集高能。

设想中本集应该把最后所有的包袱都解开，与前11集呼应而成一个完整的故事。

为什么这件房子里凶案频发？

当然自Harmon一家搬进来以后很多都是旧鬼作恶，尤其是Tate和Hyden。

但之前呢？

大丽花、护士、乃至constance的各种悲剧，我个人只能归于风水不好来解释。

上两集说了很多房子已经装不下更多鬼魂，以及房子锁住鬼魂的奇异力量。

我本来还以为房子会超负荷爆掉（囧）或者说说这股力量的来由，但是没有。

可能是我看的不仔细，但女仆的对哈蒙桑的美人计其实是为了什么？

如果是为了尸骨埋在房子草坪，想入土为安，那其他死在房子的人尸体被搬走了（如哈蒙夫妇）也离不开这屋啊。

再说想移走尸身，随便找些理由翻开草地，告诉Harmon，让他叫人处理骸骨就行了吧。

另外为什么她有变老的一面而其他鬼不会？

渲染了很久的夺子大战没有出现。

Hyden杀Harmon时倒是挺利索的，直到跟constance对飚放狠话时也气场十足，但是男模轻轻一刀加上痴心的微笑，孩子就到康姨手里了。

泄气啊有木有。

话说没看出来男模这么痴心啊。

Nora怨念母亲的形象本来很打动人心，以致Tate大开杀戒，强奸Vivien来为她争取个孩子，都让人觉得虽天理难容，但情有可原，有点柯南式的连环杀手其实往往是为了至亲报仇的唏嘘。

但到了这集，这位怨念的母亲，竟然富太太病发作，嫌孩子烦，就这么把孩子给回Vivien，末了女仆还吐槽了一句“她根本不是当妈的料”。

泄气啊有木有。

我顿时觉得基友二人组死得还真冤。

回过头来，Addy这么出彩的角色，用来说明一下死在屋外就不能还魂就从本剧消失了。

轻轻的走，连云彩一片也没带走啊。

我觉得还是可惜了。

Tate对校园枪击的事什么时候幡然醒悟的？

万圣节那天他还真心认不出受害者啊。

Violet的爱？

没有交代清楚。

还以为Harmon的治疗会让他想起自己的恶行。

而且屠杀校园时也没有化骷髅妆，前几集的闪回骷髅造型只是为了说明Tate的内心反社会啊。

最后happy ending，一家人从此永远幸福快乐地在一起。

是为了圣诞节，所以变成美国温馨故事？

个人认为e11的人鬼殊途，永失挚爱更令人痛心。

吐槽了这么多，都不能否认这部剧之精彩新颖。

语气轻佻，纯属说笑，绝无恶意，希望没有冒犯你心目中的好剧。