蛛网男孩

看完第一集，剧情里除了男女主人这条线外，还有主人公女儿的故事发展。

如同以往，就像是其他美国式恐怖电影一样。

举个例子，彭氏兄弟在美国导的，Kristen Stewart 出演的 messenger。

这个影片里搬家的起因也是家庭矛盾，不过一个是bella 醉酒驾车出事故，年幼弟弟重伤，家里负担完医疗费后经济窘迫无奈搬乡下务农，整部影片bella都有点几年后暮色里的神韵。

这里是因为男主人在妻子流产后和学生偷情被妻子‘抓贼拿脏，捉奸在床’，之后两人貌合神离打冷战，搬家远离伤心地。

个人推测一旁正处青春期的女儿目睹种种变故，变得叛逆极端，抑郁爱自残，还喜欢吸烟（不是个好习惯）。

不过再联系到 男主角的职业是 心理医师，这就有点讽刺了，看来他不仅处理家庭能力失败，连职业水准都有问题。

前面叙述有点多。

接下来转入正题，男主角搬到新家当然还是做老本行，心理状态评估，办公室在自己家。

貌似第一个客户就是这个诡异少年，在对话里这个少年表现出 一副宗教极端份子的摸样（世界太污秽，哥要努力净化它），有一幕场景有点意思，但这少年瞄向男主人公后面时，有个满脸是血版本的自己正站着。

我一开始还以为这是幻象，精神不正常的正常表现，我错了。

由于这个诡异男喜欢乱逛，所以叛逆女在自残的时候被看到了，两颗有着不少共同点的受伤心灵蹦出了火花，他们找到了很多共同语言，后面证明只是一厢情愿。

还是吸烟这个不好习惯，主人公女儿在学校里因为这个惹出了事端。

一个女生和她关系恶劣大打出手，当然这件事情在两人的谈天中也聊到了， 诡异男孩提出来要给她出气。

让女儿以 有大麻 为诱饵引对头进家里地下室。

计划顺利进行，结果 惊人的一幕发生了。

地下室灯光闪烁里鬼影幢幢，恶灵现身，把对头scare the crap out的同时，把主角女儿也吓傻了。

两人不欢而散，很好理解，一个只是需要心理诊疗，另外一个真的得驱魔师来搞定。

接下来估计又是剪不断理还乱的剧情发展，让人期待。

收回“让人期待”这句话第八集看完之后。

这电视剧我有点搞不清接下来剧情怎么编了。

现在里面真正让人看顺眼的角色只剩下女仆，其他人都或多或少的让人讨厌。

比如 Violet，为了情人老妈都不要，男主角Ben是个做丈夫失败做父亲失败做情夫失败做心理医生也失败的矬人。

女主角，看着她的僵硬满皱纹的老脸，实在生不出同情，第七集还是第六集面无表情吃大脑让我也呕了下，constance 每次出现都是带点神经质和攻击性，这样的古怪邻居送来的未知生物的肉糜和脑组织收下了，也吃了。。。。。。

BTW，一路看下来我发觉这家人对这房子里发生的怪事做出来的都不是正常人的反应：男主一副哥无视你无视你或者“hayden别玩了，哥已经和你玩完了”的态度。

女主角反应迟缓过了头，前面的种种诡异事件她都磨蹭着不搬，好不容易下定决心逃离房子，结果被车里两个鬼吓到，居然又跑回鬼屋里。

Violet 一改酷妹风格，和一个已经百分之百非人类的tate谈起恋爱，前校园 series killer（话说tate现在身上应该有不少枪眼）？

none taken. 第一集里显示出来的凶残能力？

none taken.地下室各种鬼阁楼上奇形怪状鬼？

none taken. 题外话：为那个高帅富的波斯人 默下哀，那一下一定很痛。

Tate的扮演者和发条橙男主长得真像

非常惊喜的剧！

但说实话，若是单单冲着“恐怖”二字去看，那就算了。

至少本人觉得没有半点恐怖意味，至多算的上“诡异”。

一家人搬进了新房子，谁知接连不断的发生怪事，原来这栋房子是著名的鬼宅，房子的主人几乎都死于非命。

更诡异的是，死在这栋房子里的人，灵魂都不得超生，永世困在房子里……从人物来说：少男少女很养眼，这俩角色是整部剧里我最喜欢的。

妈妈很坚强，爸爸虽然出过轨，但还算爱家，重要的是长的挺有味道。

女仆是最惊喜的，年轻的时候美的惊艳，年老的时候有种淡淡的哀伤。

隔壁怪阿姨非常霸气，就连她那个有唐氏的女儿演的都超棒！！

房子的第一代女主人非常有气质，和隔壁怪阿姨一样，都是霸气御姐啊应该说每个角色都很丰满，很有个性，不错！！！

看这部剧是因为猎奇，整体感觉很失望，没有什么印象深刻的出彩点。

可能因为是11年出的剧，本身就带有年代感，但是里面凶宅、鬼胎、人鬼情实在是可以称得上烂俗。

无论是恐怖的表现手法还是老套的情节，以及最后结局主角一家幸福的成为鬼魂永生在一起，都让人感到很无奈，整部剧感觉就是把各种恐怖情节拼凑在一起，没有令人震撼的逻辑和精彩的反转剧情，作为一部12集的剧，着实是有点浪费时间。

如果你是恐怖片爱好者，还是不推荐看了。

总之，这就是一部打发时间的狗血肥皂剧（顶着恐怖故事的帽子）。

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。

很少看美剧，唯一看过的美剧只有行尸走肉和超能家庭，行尸的讲述人性的挣扎，到后期也越来越冗余，超能家庭其实是好剧，无奈被砍，草草收尾，可见要拍好一部迷你剧是多难，更何况要把握好节奏和剧情也是很难的。

美恐的故事其实就是一个大杂烩，在鬼屋的主线上，埋下了各种恐怖故事的副线故事，巧妙的节奏把握，每一集清晰的主线故事附带过往错乱时间线的副线故事，比如被假装受伤的变态杀手残忍杀害的护士2人组，同性恋的恋人，虽然我觉得同性恋恋人这条线在后期几乎是没什么存在的必要，很显然编剧想要导出一个复杂却又精致的故事，给每个人几乎都安排了存在的必要，像护士是为了引出现代报复社会模仿变态杀手的3人组，同性恋恋人是为了引出后期V知道泰德强奸了她的母亲，以及最后装修婴儿房的血红色婴儿床也是在暗示着鬼魂与人类结婚的鬼胎，虽然这些角色其实可有可无，就算剔除了也不会让故事出现多大的问题。

不过高明的剧情难免也会有漏洞，一方面剧情明示暗示鬼魂是无法离开房子的，可是在白天不是万圣节的时候，泰德曾约本出去喝咖啡。

V和泰德联手吓唬她的同学，结果同学却不在意，还和V成为了类似好朋友的存在，剧情的过渡不够自然，而且V还轻易的原谅了泰德，并成为了男女朋友。

女仆在男人眼里是魅惑的年轻女性，在女性眼里是年老的妇女这个设定很有亮点，明示暗示着剧情的许多伏笔，但是后期说明女仆的诱惑仅仅只是为了让本拒绝诱惑，看清事实，但是女仆为什么要勾引来买房的男人？

并且为他口交？

而且她在还不清楚男人是为了要重建房子的时候勾引她，并且和康婶表明过，她认为男人能给她地位或者给予她想要的东西？

觉得剧情显然处理得不够圆润。

至于泰德，我只是觉得他是个彻头彻尾的魔鬼，烧母亲的男友致其毁容，还有杀害无辜的同学，很多人以为他在否认那些过往，不过我却觉得那是因为后来他真的爱上了V，想和V好好在一起，所以他害怕V知道，自己也选择性的遗忘了这些事情。

小阿赋予了剧情一定的悬念和惊悚故事，本来还期待她能擦出更多新剧情，结果过于早就死掉了，并且死后鬼魂也没在屋子里出现（我指的是康婶的屋子）但是被泰德残忍杀害的同学的鬼魂却留在了学校里，并且在万圣节出来找泰德，所以小阿的魂魄是去哪里了？

但是不得不否认，故事的精明安排，在这么错综复杂的故事线里能那么好的理清一切，大结局的安排其实是很光明的，只是为什么在海登杀害本的时候，V和薇薇安不出来救他呢？

前面才花了那么大的力气劝说他逃离房子，后面就不出现了，真是费解。

并且前面花了很大的力气描写了房子的第一任主人，诺拉和丈夫，后面诺拉出现，丈夫几乎就没出现，除了分娩的时候出现了，感觉前面花了很大力气描写他心理的变化和后期导致了他改造已经死掉的儿子的故事，结果他和儿子后期都是一闪而过的节奏，诺拉那么千辛万苦的想得到孩子，最后结局仅仅只是描述她得到后觉得厌烦无法去照顾而放手让薇薇安一家大团聚，这个结尾是在有点弱。

而且没什么每一个几乎入住了鬼屋的人都死光光了，除了房产中介和灵媒没有入住，仅仅只是进去作客而已，就不会被杀死，那么为什么康恩斯坦能够没事？

并且随意的出入房子？

女仆没理由的害怕她是为什么？

难道仅仅只是心里觉得对不起坦恩斯特？

这理由或许有些牵强。

不过剔除这些小bug和小细节，这个故事还是非常高明的，为什么不给5星仅仅是因为1星扣掉了这些bug和小细节，1星被夸张的剧情安排所吓到。

美恐大概是我看过最毁三观的电视剧了，鬼魂强奸女主人，却又和女主人的女儿勾搭在一起，还怀上了2个孩子，还一个是鬼一个是人，也太夸张了，海登的复生和报复，本的挣扎，全都让人瞠目结舌。

从头到尾都是sex，虽然说sex也是正常人需要的事情，但是这部剧除了恐怖和故事外，最多的就是sex了，不因为sex，本也不会出轨，薇薇安也不会搬家，也不会被泰德强奸，更不会怀上孩子。

结尾的安排确实是高明的，鬼孩子的出生，并且引出后期杀戮保姆，侧面也说明了康恩斯坦的悲剧，自己生的孩子不是畸形就是心理变态，最后接受泰德的孩子，孩子也跟泰德一样是魔鬼（不过泰德最后也从善了，得到了他自己该有的惩罚，永远都无法和V在一起）结局埋下了许多的伏笔，结果乃至第4季都没有要继续这个故事的任何表明，虽然我也觉得接下来的故事要编很难，但是我相信毁三观的编剧也没什么编不出来的。

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

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？

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。

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

（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!