生人勿进

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。

《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。

Ryan Murphy和Brad Falchuk可能是做【Glee】太欢乐了，乐极生闷，才来搞鬼故事玩。

看完首集，目前感觉是走美式主流恐怖套路。

有子或女的夫妻。

心理偏执。

搬家。

鬼气森森的老宅。

地下室。

医学实验。

婴灵。

神经质邻居。

怀孕或流产。

等等等等。

其实美式恐怖没啥不好，虽然老套，但只要能足够地道，细节做足，也是可以看。

首播是FX台星期三晚10点。

Nielsen报告说吸引了320万观众，基本符合【Nip/Tuck】18-49岁的收视人群。

10点钟小朋友真的都睡了吗？

剧中些许限制级，不遮拦避讳，倒也符合情境。

场景算漂亮，尤其是复古部分，蛮精致。

海报也美啊。

女主角和黑色塑胶人做爱那部分，真心觉得是在向【Rosemary's baby】中的经典桥段致敬。

主角无感，但配角不错。

有Jessica Lange这样的老戏骨加盟演八卦的邻居太太。

以及Six Feet Under里的妈妈Frances Conroy也来了，饰制服诱惑一把的女管家（是幽灵吗？

因为女主人看她是独眼老太太，男主人看她就是火热辣妹。

真是相由心生）。

有这些演戏四两拨千斤的高手撑着，希望之后能够火花四溅。

首集信息量爆棚，丢出多个线头，难免有点顾左不顾右之慌乱感。

鬼宅故事要塞满13集，还希望可以循序渐进将线头一一展开，layer by layer。

宅子应该具备多层恐怖历史，怎么剥洋葱讲故事，以及大boss到底是谁，就看会不会说故事了。

我总是对恐怖剧心软，坚持关注一下。

说到底，心魔是真正的魔。

心中无鬼，鬼不近身。

金秋大家horror一把

（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!

我最近在追这部美剧，很好看，吸引我的原因有：第一，综合所有的恐怖元素：1 片头里阴暗的场景中，有各式各样装着标本的玻璃罐。

染着血迹的剪刀，手术刀，惊恐的幼儿照片，铁链。

所有恐怖片所应有的元素在片头的闪现中逐一体现。

2、第一集开始，两个恶作剧的双胞胎进入这个破旧的老宅，智障女童警告他们，他们置之不理。

所有的人都知道这两个倒霉鬼的下场了。

可当他们挥舞大棒在老宅中横冲直撞时，音乐响起，居然是首欢乐的歌。

查了一下百度贴吧里的，名字是Tonight You Belong to Me，来自1956年Patience and Prudence的翻唱版本。

哇，真是非常应景。

唱出了宅里怪物的心声。

3，房子三层，地下层里有个利鬼，尖牙利爪，喜欢抓花人脸，拉开气管，动作快得看不出他们是什么样，但很寂寞，会和智障儿玩滚球。

居室里的女仆也是个鬼，她是个怨鬼，在男人的眼中她美艳诱人，在女人的眼中她丑陋衰老。

在第三集中，因为女主人要辞退她，她抓狂：“女人往往都能看到本质，而男人都只看到他们愿意看到的东西。

”她不能离开这个老宅，为什么呢？

因为她就埋在这房子的土里。

女仆的话相当符合所有恐怖片中的中心思想，怖由心生。

老宅是抓住这一点再将它们放大。

同时，还有一个小男生，估计也是鬼，却起着保护宅中小女儿的作用。

他夜间凝视着小姑娘时，场景很有爱。

这是这片子中唯一让人觉得有希望的看头，但，你也知道的，鬼和人在一起终究没有好结局的，顶楼的是个喜欢穿黑胶服的怪物。

跟女主人有关。

海报上那个家伙就是他。

四个非现实的生物，一个有小BOSS气质的女邻居神神叨叨，还有一个具有阴阳眼的智障儿。。

现实世界里男主人有外遇，女主人被生育所烦恼，一个叛逆期的女儿。

外加一个发生了不少命案的多年老宅。

我仔细想了一下，除却异形外太空生物外，该片真的是包含了所有恐怖的元素。

还有什么它所没有呢？

当然，它也有鬼婴。

在地下室里。

第二，情节丰富，结局总是出人意外男主人是一名心理医生，在与病人进行诊疗中，有一些心理的专业解释耐人寻味。

同时，男主人自己也有一笔说不清的帐，现实世界的这些活人，在剧里都把神经绷到一个极点。

每个人都有自己心理纠结，这些纠结颜色暗沉不亚于那些来自于地窖的秘密。

每一集开始都会带来一个凶杀案。

也许会提示活人该怎样活着才不至于像这些倒霉蛋那样死去。

或者，死亡来临时本身也是没道理可言。

第三集看完，对女仆充满同情，她也是这样一个倒霉鬼，他用鸦片酊诱使男主人去控坑，或许就是希望男主人来解开她的结，将她从坟中挖出，给她的灵魂自由。

但是很遗憾，终究她还是走不了，男主人也注定以悲剧结尾。

刚从百度贴吧里看的这个：“而American Horror Story的核心，也呼之待出，其实就是丈夫和妻子的对抗，牵连了所有卷进相同矛盾的人。

这一点如轮回般不断发生在同样出现矛盾的夫妻之间，而孩子等人沦为牺牲品。

”第三 音乐实在太好听了。

就象开初所说的，配乐相当出彩。

第一集的音乐在百度吧里找有。

第三集，《For Everything A Reason》，这样的歌，配上那样的景还有女仆的泪，嗯，非常出彩。

貌似是在聊起电锯惊魂之流的时候同事向我推荐了这部《美国恐怖故事》，辞职之后终于有时间来看了，看之前我还问他这是恐怖的还是恶心的，他说都有点吧，现在我看完了，我想说这美剧既不恐怖也不恶心，而是带点煽情的感人。

首先我在第一集里看到那个似人非人的怪物长的很像哈利波特的妖精老师我就觉得这没什么恐怖的了╮(╯_╰)╭然后当女仆望着自己的遗骸哭泣的时候我也哭了，还有后来她去看望自己母亲时我也哭了，多煽情啊，哪恐怖了？

还有被砍成两段的“大丽花”、崔维斯、两个满脸伤痕的捣蛋男孩、被烧死的母女三人……我只能说化妆技术还不错，但要说恐怖或者恶心，完全没有超越电锯惊魂、心慌方、死神来了之类的片子，算是小清新的了╮(╯_╰)╭另外一开始死的那俩捣蛋男孩在死的时候背景音乐居然是欢快的tonight you belong to me，太诙谐了好吗= =最早的那个大夫是害死了24位来堕胎的少女是吗？

那加上她们的孩子，这房子在最初就先死了48个无辜的人。

后来林林总总又死了29个人，所以这儿能不成凶宅吗╮(╯_╰)╭但貌似死去的人里好人占大多数，其中tate杀了几个人都是为了给nora一个孩子，真是莫名其妙的理由= =我是觉得如果跟这些鬼魂和平共处就好了嘛，一家子人多么地热闹啊，何必打打杀杀，那些好鬼很可怜的啊，每人一部心酸史啊，更应该好好对待它们啊╮(╯_╰)╭这片子的世界观可是死了就永生了诶，我靠那些鬼除了不能走出那房子干什么都行啊，尼玛生孩子都行啊，太牛逼了，而且说句go away就走开了，多好收拾啊。

卖房子的时候就应该说，这里面有多少多少鬼，都是怎么死的，哪些是好的哪些是坏的，好的可以帮你，坏的就让它们go away，世界和平啊简直！

第九集结尾居然出来个末日论啊尼玛，一口老血都要喷出来了好吗，还能再扯一点吗，一下子就联想到当年X档案结尾的时候Scully生下的疑似外星人之子啊。

不过他们那个是救世主，你们这个是魔鬼啊，魔鬼啊好吗，3岁杀人就那么开心鸟，我靠对方是一个肥婆啊，3岁的娃娃怎么做到割喉的啊，一屋子的血呦，从楼下拖到楼上了咩，好劲爆\(^o^)/“人类和灵魂结合所诞生的孩子将引发世界的终结，这就是邪恶本质。

”尼玛这都撼动基督教了好吗？

2012要来了是吗，小魔鬼将开启地狱之门是吗，好期待第二季呢，哎呀呀，终于要变玄幻了呢\(^o^)/尼玛，真的够了！！

→_→房子里的死鬼越来越多了，不过它们再那么闹下去肯定不会有人再去买再去住了，所以我只关心那个小崽子。

只是来吐槽啦，我要看的美剧们还没回归，只好捞到什么看什么了╮(╯_╰)╭over

首先这部剧作为恐怖类型的美剧 算是独树一帜但是一般来说 恐怖片的内容起承转合都很分明 但是要放到几十分钟的剧集里面 外加要切割成13集 这就不得不说是对观众审恐固定模式的一种大胆挑战了看了第一集 感觉不是很出彩 编剧导演倒是有些自己的想法 但是单纯作为一部剧集的第一集 显得不是那么抓人 剪辑手法也显得比较奇怪在拒绝剧透的同时 我感觉片子还是比较有特点 值得去看 不值得去追就是了

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。

从有美国小说这概念起，美国作家的理想就是写一部“伟大的美国小说”（the Great American Novel）。

它要文学性强，要形象鲜明，要引人入胜；但更重要的是，它得是“美国人写的这个时代的美国事”。

作者、主题、时代性，丝丝入扣，缺一不可。

维基百科上所列公认的伟大的美国小说，有《白鲸》、《哈克贝利·芬历险记》、《了不起的盖茨比》、《愤怒的葡萄》、《麦田里的守望者》、《洛丽塔》等等，你就知道美国作家若要树标杆，会望向哪里。

有人说这理想是一种对史诗的渴望，因他们不曾拥有遗产。

但换个角度看，这是自觉的参与书写历史，介于豪迈与狂妄间的责任感。

这责任感不独作家有，美国的创作者几乎都在心中暗暗攥拳。

本剧就是讲这么一个“伟大的美国恐怖故事”的企图。

主要角色典型至极：心理医生丈夫、艺术气质的居家妻子、有点黑暗的青春期女儿。

还有只狗。

场景也似曾相识：草坪、街区、大片独栋。

被某人比喻为“人造微型扭曲社会”的中学，神秘兮兮的邻居，不远处的海滩。

但是从那个女仆出现开始，一切都有点，不太一样。

你见过哪部讲美国郊区的恐怖片中，以女仆作为标准家庭的配置的？

是的，远离城区的大片独栋，和以受欢迎程度为唯一社会序列标准的高中，是当代美国人挥之不去的梦魇。

想想看，现实题材的恐怖片，每年有几部是发生在这两个场景之外的？

他们努力工作，积极奋斗，终于将想象中的场景搬到了身边，却发现心中仍然没有着落——怎么办？

如何排遣这焦虑？

我们称之为第一世界难题。

回到女仆。

我们发现，夫妇眼中的女仆不是一人；我们发现，女仆也是有故事的人——她死很久了；我们发现，神秘兮兮的邻居和这女仆也有渊源……她不止是因为只有一身衣服才始终这样打扮的，她就是过去，挥之不去、死而不僵的过去。

美国逐渐成了一个有历史的国家。

自从打完内战，它积极的一边参战一边反战，和国家联盟、国家、种族、恐怖主义开战。

从飞机降临的那一天走到今天，它回头恍然发现：它也有过去了。

它不再是，或者说不再能总认为自己是那个混不吝的teenager了。

它有过外遇，说过谎，埋过尸，眼前的女人似乎都在勾引自己，老婆不能碰，小三不松口，工作上又害死了人……从女仆出发，我们进入了情节剧的“每个人都不是表现出来的样子”模式。

丈夫不仅有外遇，还无心悔改；妻子不愿为家庭和孩子牺牲，还没完全分居就和保安公司的人暧昧；女儿看似被欺凌，结果却是身边的人一个个非死即伤。

这家庭似乎要崩溃，但又似乎在维持，看不见救赎，但也总有转折。

一如今日美国。

或其他任何地方。

剧播到现在，“用类似经典恐怖片回顾的小故事开头，引入新的角色和情节，与主线穿插推进”的模式已经基本成型。

但最具可看性的，或者说这剧最吸引我的，却既不是开头的小故事，也不是这些肩负第一世界难题的主角们，而是——无处不在、铺天盖地的致敬。

随便数数，鬼屋（The Amityville Horror）、闪灵（The Shining）、罗斯玛丽的婴儿（Rosemary's Baby）、月光光心慌慌（Halloween）、魔女嘉丽（Carrie）、糖人（Candyman）、魔鬼天使（Twisted Nerve）……都历历在目，个人觉得还有最毒妇人心（Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte）、德州链锯杀人狂（The Texas Chainsaw Massacre）、神话（Phenomena）等等。

还有真实的科伦拜恩。

一路看下来，完全可以拿来当恐怖片迷俱乐部联欢的保留节目。

它是不是真的达成了自己的理想，对我来说已不重要了。

这绝非贬低，而是出于一个恐怖片爱好者对另一个恐怖片爱好者的精彩之作发自内心的赞许，以及对过往时光重新检视后的些许乡愁。

对作品来说，这该算是创作时心中抱着“伟大的美国恐怖故事”理想的人，在历史坐标上的一声报到吧。

PS：老有人说这橡胶人口味重什么的，其实看过日本漫画的人都知道怎么回事吧：金田一和柯南里的凶手，不是永远都是这副装扮么。

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？