美国恐怖故事第一季

我多么希望Tate没有做那些不可饶恕的事情，一直不明白他用枪打死无辜学生的动机，因为他对Violet 一直很好，这样有感情的人怎么可能是杀人不眨眼的疯子lunatic？

结果我们都上当了，被他可怜的小眼神欺骗了！

一个人不管他嘴上对你怎么说，行动才能说明一切你魅力非凡，惹人注目,还是个病态的骗子you're charismatic and compelling and a pathological liar 顺便说下，心理治疗根本没有用and by the way therapy doesn't work没有用，那为什么这些人要治疗Doesn't work Then why do people do it因为他们不想为自己糟糕的生活负一点责任Beacause they don't wanna to take any responsibility for their crappy lives 所以他们付钱让治疗师来听他们的废话,让这一切都变得 特别so they pay a therapist to listen to their bullshit and make it all feel special 他们就可以责怪他们的疯老妈搞砸了一切so they can blame their crazy mothers for everyting that went wrong 就这样吗，我什么都做不了了吗？

不能获得宽恕了吗？

so this is it ? there's nothing I can do? there's no chance of mercy 　戏演的真棒，泰特 terrific performance Tate 一副受到误解的孩子的表情The whole misunderstood kid act ?我上当了，瓦奥莱特也上当了I fell for it Violet did too但是一个精神病，定义上来讲是不会感到后悔的But a psychopath by definition is incapable of remorse

美恐第一季完食。。。

这是大团圆结局吧? •̫͡•ʕ 鬼屋还怪热闹的～开放参观吗？

这才是《怪物杰弗瑞达莫的故事》第一部吧！！！

墨菲到底有多想拍达莫。。。

硬是在毫不相关的剧情里加入了全套达莫元素。。。

第九集天罚（即使你改变了）最后一集的confess 和Ghost Baby Jeffrey (I sometimes wish I'd never been borned at all ) 其它小元素就不提了墨菲你是不是每一季都有一个无法回头的人 每一季问观众 他（她）能不能被宽恕 应不应被惩罚。。。

然后再给他安排一个死亡。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

ZQ本身也蛮高大了吧，竟然在里面做了个性冷淡的娘泡受，不过还是很美很Puppy啊我觉得他可能也因为这出戏怕播出时造成太大的非议和媒体追问，于是自个儿先把柜出了，省的大众又加油添醋被狗宅追写，顺便还能为节目造势一把。

（小钙自杀我知道的啦，只是仅从这部戏来想其中一个原因罢了）话说攻君换成比较相像的亚历山大君是不是就更完美了呢？

厕所那一抓，不少G片又可以衍生下去拍外传了哈哈哈根据这一集的线索，个人猜测Addy很可能就是第一个医生屋主被肢解掉的孩子怨灵剧末众配角悉数登场，也给观众抛出了一系列问题Tate是人是鬼？

黑衣男是谁？

肚里的是鬼孩子？

Addy生死未卜（哪个晕倒的女医生我开始以为是Addy变的）？

女仆为何走不了——仅仅是因为尸身不见天日？

毁容男Ben索要男猪1000美刀来何用？

Violet在哪儿？

另外，在没感觉出有任何单元剧走向的情况下，我觉得这片叫凶宅怨灵，鬼屋心慌慌之类就算了，扣着 American Horror Story的标题总觉有点托大，这也容易造成观众曲解了这部戏的内容而导致一些人早早弃剧。

2023年夏天没有豆瓣的日子里狂刷美恐到第七季，第一季其实早在2013年就看过了，这次一并重看。

女主后来演《白莲花度假村》第一季，那个夫妻互动颇有美恐第一季夫妻关系的影子。

Fatal Attraction, 1987美恐第一季里小三把女主的宠物狗放进微波炉，是1987年电影《致命诱惑》的梗，迈克尔道格拉斯的这部电影里，小三把他家的宠物兔子连皮煮了。

“American Horror Story: Murder House”的时间线如下：1922年

谋杀屋是Charles Montgomery医生于1922年建起的，与其妻Nora和子Thaddeus一同居住。

最终医生本人药物成瘾并发展成弗兰肯斯坦综合征。

Nora Montgomery为了贴补家用，Nora开始招徕年轻的意外怀孕女子，医生为她们行人流术。

其中一个女孩不小心泄露了秘密，她的男友绑架并杀死了医生的儿子Thaddeus，装在瓶子里归还。

医生试图复活自己的孩子，进行了一系列缝合拼接。

Thaddeus MontgomeryNora发现这个新版本的儿子是个怪物，狂热于鲜血和人肉，于是想杀死他，混乱中射杀医生随后自杀。

1947年

Elizabeth Short，与原型Elizabeth Short，又名“黑色大丽花”，The Black Dahlia谋杀案发生于此屋。

凶手牙医David Curan将尸体拖到地下室时，前屋主Charles Montgomery宣称自己可以“make the body more portable”。

1968年

R. Franklin因为温度计事故而痛恨护士的R. Franklin 在谋杀屋杀死了两名护校学生，Gladys和Maria。

GladysGladys淹死在楼上的浴缸里。

[《镀金年代》时罗素家的漂亮女儿也叫Gladys，演员Taissa Farmiga是美恐非常重要的演员，越来越年轻了呢]

Maria则死于多次刀刺。

1978年

双胞胎Troy和Bryan不顾年幼的Adelaide的警告进入谋杀屋，结果被第一任屋主医生的孩子Thaddeus杀死。

Adelaide也是后来的女巫之一。

1983年

Constance发现自己的丈夫Hugo与女仆Moria有奸情（其实是强奸），于是射杀两人，女仆被射中眼睛埋在院子里，Hugo喂了狗。

[Constance由杰西卡兰芝扮演，最近看了梅丽尔斯特里普的传记，两人几乎同时出道，但当时需要美艳或性感的角色都归了杰西卡兰芝]1984年Constance和她的孩子们住在谋杀屋，但已无法负担费用。

七岁的Tate在地下室遇到了第一任屋主的孩子Thaddeus，被Nora救下并向她学会喝退恶鬼的方法。

1984-1993Constance失去谋杀屋，住在隔壁。

19？？

-1994

Constance住在隔壁的某个时间点，Larry和老婆孩子住进谋杀屋，接着Larry和Constance有了奸情。

Larry坚持让老婆孩子搬走，而Constance烧死了她们。

[Larry的演员也是本剧常驻，最出彩的角色是旅店那季里的异装癖]1994年

BeauConstance 和她的孩子们搬回谋杀屋与Larry同住，在Constance的暗示下Larry杀死了Constance的孩子Beau。

这一年Tate最终崩溃，将Larry杀死在他工作的地方并对尸体纵火，然后去自己的学校制造了枪击事件，其中五个受害者在万圣节时来“拜访”过他。

Tate本人死于学校枪击事件后SWAT小队的“家访”。

2010年

Chad同性伴侣Chad和Patrick搬来谋杀屋，两人关系不和，各种背叛各种争吵。

最后两人被Tate杀死，Tate一直想为Nora找个孩子，但Chad和Patrick的感情破裂让两人领养小孩不再可能。

[Chad是Asylum那季里的精神科医生]2011年

Taissa Farmiga哈蒙一家搬来。

最终女儿死于药物过量，Vivien死于生产，Ben被吊死。

[Ben的演员在第二季，Asylum里演了莎拉保尔森的儿子，现实里比莎拉保尔森年长十几岁]

Tate是Evan Peters演的，也是常驻，后来演了达莫与“美恐：旅馆”相映成趣。

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。

现在已经出到第七集了，虽说悬念疑点还蛮多的，但是也给了我们不少提示。

这部剧最主要的就是建立在死在房子里的人就会永远的留在那片土地上这一设定上的，具体为什么不是房子而是土地（详见第七集里邻居Constance对女仆说的那段推倒房子的话），这个设定难道编剧仅仅是为了在第七集威胁女仆么……还有一点就是房子到底受到了什么诅咒，为什么那些鬼都要留住怀孕的女主角。

我觉得有几个线索可以让我们猜测一下。

第一、最初那家医生在房子为年轻的女孩们做堕胎手术，大概是20个（我记得好像是）婴儿的恶灵就留在了这个房子里。

第二、邻居Constance一共有五个孩子，而她自己说自己的五个孩子都收到了诅咒，从第七集到现在，一共出现了三个，Tate、智障女Adelaide，还有那个在阁楼上喜欢玩扔小球的面部畸形的孩子，估计剩下的两个也在房子里。

第三、所有的鬼都被困在了屋子里，也不能上天堂神马的，其中貌似有愿意的也有不愿意的，而且他们只有在房子里的时候才能显身，除此就只有万圣节了。

第四、就是在屋子的鬼包括邻居Constance都希望女主角顺利把孩子生下来，而且女主角自己离开房子之后也很不舒服，甚至流产，还有就是她怀着的怪物双胞胎。

之类的比如第五集初代女主人在男主角被绑，女主角受到那个变成鬼的情人的威胁时，帮助了男主角并且还说她不充许这个房子再有失败。

第五、邻居Constance说过希望女主角把孩子生下来，但是从邻居Constance的角度来说她希望永远在这个房子里看到他的孩子，比如Adelaide死的时候他努力的想把Adelaide拖回到房子里，也就是说就算女主角孩子生下来了她依然是可以在房子里看到自己的孩子的，孩子生下来之后，房子里的鬼该怎样还是怎样的。

第六、房子被诅咒了，好吧，这是显而易见的……还有比如来这个房子看心理病的病人们没有一个活下来的，Tate本来就是死人、还有一个黑人女的自杀、导演还着重刻画了一个pigman，也倒霉的死了。

这几个线索联系起来，故事没准是这样滴。

因为那些邪恶的婴儿灵魂一直在诅咒着这个房子，而怀孕便是能让这些恶灵超生的办法（当然或许这个剧里面就没有上天堂超生什么的这一设定，或许只是净化……），说不定邻居Constance的孩子就是那些婴儿的转世，因为那些婴儿都死得比较惨，所以可以解释为什么邻居Constance的孩子都像是受到了诅咒般，不是智障就是畸形。

而现在的女主角怀的孩子没准就是初代的那个孩子，还带了个小蹄的。

而女主角不能离开房子，因为婴儿的灵魂也被束缚在了那个房子里，离开太久了肚子里的孩子就灵魂的气息就变得微弱，所以有一集女主角就流产了。

故去的鬼为了能让这个房子安宁，就得让这些恶灵通过怀孕超生。

当然还有几处疑点比如邻居Constance是为了留住那个畸形孩子，就把他杀死在了这个房子里，但是她自己又搬到了隔壁，想见孩子不应该留在屋子么……女仆为什么又要挖她自己的骨头呢？

仅仅是为了把邻居Constance送进监狱么……还有黑胶人，通过第八集预告，那个gay也穿了那个衣服，Tate原来也穿过，那个是谁想穿就穿么……Tate肯定知道有鬼，但他知道自己是么……

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

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！

最近迷上了《美国恐怖故事》，痴醉啊!简直就是一部恐怖大全啊！

故事从美国一个普通的中产三口之家，女主人VIVIAN第二个孩子流产后，丈夫BEN是一个优秀的心理医生， 但却因为劈腿，一家和谐全部被毁，于是BEN决定搬到一个新地方来治愈支离破碎的家庭，让妻子重新接纳他，并开始新的生活，于是他们一家三口搬到了这幢维多利亚时代的大豪宅， 这是上世纪20年代一位著名的外科医生为他的爱妻造的一栋大房子，当然中介并没有告诉他们外科医生同他的妻子在上个世纪全家都死在那里，还算人品不坏的中介只是告诉他们上一对同性恋屋主被谋杀在这房子里。

好吧！

百无禁忌的HARMON一家就这样搬进来了，为我们展开了一幅百鬼众生相，BEN迎来了第一位病人，一个像天使一样的金发美少年TATE，也成了女儿VIOLET的知心朋友，有了一个老喜欢没事就闯到他们家的弱智女孩艾迪，无论VIVIAN怎么锁好门， 她总有办法闯进来，她说这里有她的朋友们，而她异常强悍而虚荣诡异的母亲，似乎知道一切秘密，却在她们刚搬进来想用紫罗兰蛋糕毒死VIOLET , 当然后来这蛋糕竟然帮助他们躲过了三个变态杀手狂热爱好者的屠杀。

渐渐地VIVIAN发现了墙纸覆盖下可怕的油画，BEN的梦游，不时有奇奇怪怪的人们反复出现，最后他们终于发现了秘密，原来凡是死在这个大屋里的灵魂永远没有上天堂或是下地狱的机会，将永远地被一股邪恶而强大的力量囚禁在这里，善良的鬼魂反复地在恶梦中哭泣，而邪恶的灵魂则不停地琢磨着怎么再去伤害活着的人们。

我花了三天时间看完两遍, 不觉惊叹于编剧的功底，整部电视剧没一句废话，没一个多余的情节，每集的开始常以一件美国历史上著名的谋杀案为序幕，其中有我们非常熟悉的黑色大理花谋案，那些谋杀案都跟历界屋主有着直接或间接的关系， 导演聪明地把这些精典案例的发生点全挪到我们精致的大屋来，或者开头也会以前任屋主的小故事作为引子，哪怕一个几秒钟的细节闪过，看似无关而莫名其妙，其实也在暗示观众并推动着情节有力的发展，到最后全部成功地串联了起来，我看了第三遍才摸清了所有情节，谁杀了谁，为什么要杀。

这幢维多利亚时代的豪华鬼屋， 一群个性鲜明的鬼魂和几个各怀鬼胎的人类，剥开惊悚地外衣，鬼屋中上演着一场关于人伦责任和生活勇气的故事。

看到最后，只感到略带凄凉而温暖的伤感。

就像BEN犀利地道出的真谛：我也不是一个好人，我本该深深爱护的人们却重重地伤了她们，日复一日，月复一月，年复一年，我们收着钱，其实我们心里知道，我们根本无法治愈世人，世人只是没有办法去面对生活的烂摊子，道歉容易，责任却难。

须知这世上最困难的就是面对我做过的错事和艰难的生活，多少人选择逃避或是麻木的生活？

所以我们的大魔头TATE，这个魅丽非凡，惹人注目但心理严重失常的精神病患者（BEN的诊断原话），一直故意选择忘记自己为什么害了这么多人， 当VIOLET问他时，他甚至委屈地留着眼泪，懵然地反问道：“是啊，我为什么害了这么多人呢？

”其实他全都记得。

好在我们的大魔头终于懂得什么是爱, 并且敢于面对自己，勇敢地含泪说出自己曾经的恶行,这是我们现代很多国人所没有的勇气啊!拥挤的鬼屋因为HARMON一家的加入，也渐渐起了变化，美少年TATE爱上了VIOLET, VIVIAN怀上了双手子，那位NORA夫人一直为前世的丧子之痛，最后终于得到了VIVIAN难产而逝的孩子，但却疲于照顾那个孩子，这多少有点现实意义的黑色幽默和无奈，哦！

原来鬼妈也会烦恼带孩子，然而当孩子在VIVIAN的怀抱里停止啼哭时，这个大豪宅里最古老的鬼魂，经过近一个世纪的挣扎，痛苦，也终于平静了下来，微笑地说出了心声，我要好好休息一下，也许我并不适合照顾孩子，这时的音乐已换成了极舒缓平和的金钢琴曲目，仿佛历经大暴风雨后，在金色的阳光下，水手将船泊在风平浪静的海面上，幸福而悠亲地钓着鱼。

那个莫拉管家，在男性眼中，性感挑逗，在女性眼中，精干丑陋，真是个写实意义和略带淘气的女鬼，当她成为维安孩子的教母，她终于露出了全剧第一个温柔的微笑，相信她的鬼生终于不一样了，不再绝望。

全剧的亮点在于，HARMON一家生前一直梦想的幸福，意外地竟在这幢给他们带来苦难的鬼屋里实现了， VIOLET最后可以平静而快乐地享受父母的天伦之乐， VIVIAN不再承受丧子之痛，而BEN得到了妻女的原谅，得到了心中久违的家庭的温暖和快乐，我们很难在前十一集沉重，恐怖以及心慌的那幢古宅中最后亮起了温暖的圣诞树，在西方人的眼中，那是累似于中国人春节情节的团聚和喜气，BEN对VIVIAN微笑着说道：“也许你不相信，但是现在的我很快乐。

”听说第二季要换到精神病院了，演员基本都换了，但那位怪邻居大妈兼鬼妈康斯坦丝还是主演，第一季中她的出色表演给观众留下深刻印象，我一开始总是不明白，为什么康斯坦丝没见几次VIOLET就要毒死她, 她甚至都不怎么认识她，后来才明白了，她是想让VIOLET死在这屋里，可以永远陪伴着自己孤独的儿子，内心深处也是出于母亲的大爱。

她每次一出场她的表演就同那背景音乐神奇而完美地契合在一起，好像她天生就是来演这个悲情而可恨的角色的， 那气场那惊艳，连鬼都怕她三分哪， 不亏是奥丝卡影后杰西卡-兰格，她是本剧重要的灵魂所在之一。

精神病院里可能就没有豪宅，没有性感善良的莫拉，没有天使与恶魔混合体的泰特，真挺可惜的，但是相信那里会更有恐怖故事挖掘的空间，但个人觉得，究竟还是维多利或是哥特风格的大豪宅里更有历史的凝重感，蕴藏着更多香艳和离奇的故事，永恒地等待着人们的想象和膜拜。

我很是希望还是以那幢房子继续故事，其实还可以编一堆故事呢，如同里面少有的黑色幽默片断，导游车上女主和房中介一起在车上听着导游激动地加重语气介她们的房子：THE MURDER HOUSE! 房中介终于兴奋地说道：我终于明白了，无论这房子死多少人，看来我总有办法卖得了它。

有一位网友ottilie说道： 这其实并不是恐怖片啊，主旨不在恐怖，说的其实是各种得不到的爱啊，生者不得安宁，逝者不愿安息。

鬼魂与人类共通的地方，也是我们故事开始的源头：无法弥补的遗憾， 巨大的痛苦， 无尽的孤独和人性的贪婪。

其实恐怖片之所以吓人，是源于我们对未知世界的恐惧，而那些深沉而黑暗的未知世界里，所隐藏的其实最终是人内心深处最大的秘密罢了, 和欲望不得实现时最直接的绝望狂燥罢了。

与其说这是一部好看的恐怖电视连续剧，不如说是一部深沉地关于人伦，责任和爱的故事。

生者的时间太短暂而无法承受太多的痛苦， 然而在这幢维多利亚时代的豪宅中鬼魂们有了永恒的时间来追求，来思考， 来面对无法实现的绝望的鬼生。

（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!