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AMERICAN HORROR STORY SEASON 1: LINGERING THOUGHTS ON EPISODE 10 "BIRTH" AND THE "AFTERBIRTH" EPISODE 11 RECAP
Finally, after a long break instigated by me, Simon Abrams and I enter the final stretch in our consideration of season one of American Horror Story. When last we posted, Simon offered his increasingly frustrated take on Episode 10, "Birth." I pick up, nearly a month later (!), with some brief thoughts of my own on that episode, and then I launch directly into the official recap of the final episode, "Afterbirth."
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“I
really need a break from this show before I go anywhere near it again. There's
some things I like about "Birth" but I'm starting to think that
Falchuk and Murphy are relying on a crazy last-minute Hail Mary punt to score
big points. I'm sure there's going to be an explanation for some of the gaping,
man-eating chasm-sized plot holes that still plague the show. For example,
something's gotta give with Ben's cluelessness. It's just gotta! Once again, I
find myself exasperated by AHS's writers' need to gracelessly stack plot
points upon plot points. The show is now a crazy Jenga tower of moronically
inter-related plot points. These individual plot points necessarily support
each other, but for no good reason other than that they were made to be stacked
onto each other.”
This is how you started out your last post, Simon, and I
think it’s a measure of how exhausted we both are at the rigorous task, one not
entirely bereft of enjoyment, of recapping the first season of American
Horror Story, to note that that last post was logged just before
Thanksgiving. I don’t think it’s a misstatement to say that neither you nor I
have felt a burning need to get back at this and drive a stake through the
heart of the inaugural narrative in what will be (if the ratings continue to
soar) a many-seasoned anthology of long-form stories designed to get the rocks
of Mssrs. Murphy and Falchuk off and then some. But in much the same way as the
show has tended to jam things in with an eye toward to a satisfying close that
doesn’t just dribble on forever, so I will now offer just a few comments on the
episode you recapped, “Birth,” before moving on to a recap of “Afterbirth.” And
I’ll try to keep it short, lest we both find ourselves talking about this
damned show into the new year. *
Any episode of American
Horror Story that contains the line “Life is too short for so much sorrow”
would tend toward the self-critical, one would think. But I don’t get that vibe
from “Birth.” Nora tells this to a tearful, 1984-vintage Tate after saving him
from being attacked by Thaddeus, the monstrous undead creature who is, of
course, her own son. (“If Thaddeus comes back to scare you again,” she also
instructs the boy, “just shut your eyes and say, ‘Go away!” This instruction
will become important late in the episode when it is echoed by Violet.) Read
and seen in December 2012, just a week or so after the horrific Sandy Hook
massacre, Nora’s assessment of our capacity for sorrow definitely takes on a
more circumspect tint, and it made me wonder if Murphy and Falchuk et al.
thought about that line, or if they even remembered it, in light of the horrors
in the past week’s news. I also wondered, given the distance between Columbine
and the first season of this show, how much time was going to have to pass
before somebody (Murphy, Falchuk or anyone) might comfortably feel like the
national wounds inflicted by Adam Lanza had healed enough so that his story (or
that of the Aurora shooter, whatever the fuck his name was—thankfully I’ve
forgotten) could be used as a foundation for the infliction of their own
nightmares.
I think overall I liked the episode, and its attempts to sew
up the strands of the story of the birth of Vivien’s babies, better than you
did. But I cannot argue with your annoyance with the way the show wastes time
on mythology and history, only to discard it. Is it a reflection more on the
gullibility of people like Billie Dean, the medium who passes along the
folklore about the Roanoke tribe and their successful banishment of the ghost
colony (“CROATOAN!”) that the incantation she passes along to Violet turns out
to be only so much hokum? Or is the joke
on us an audience of a genre that tends to opt for magic pulled from the
writer’s hat to wrap up our tales of terror at the 90-minute mark? Or maybe
it’s really a reflection, as you suggest, of Murphy and Falchuk’s disdain for
playing fair that they would invest time enough in the story for an elaborate
flashback to 1509 and yet another true-life mystery that is ultimately only
trivialized and scoffed off by Chad in such a cavalier and smarmy manner?
Quinto is also saddled with an impossible scene with Lange
in which he argues with Lange over the viability of gay parenting, which in
Quinto’s mouth just come off contemptuous, and again Murphy and company fail to
find time or ways to dramatize their position, so it gets turned into
hammer-and-tong dialogue. If you’re going to score points off the supposed
bigotry of a character—and perhaps a goodly portion of your audience-- better
to do it through Constance, not at her. Not long after Constance and Chad’s
argument over who will be the parents of the soon-to-be-hatched child—Constance
is of course none too keen about two perverts raising her grandson-- Billie Dean offers a long explanation to
Violet, in Constance’s presence, as to the source of the evil in the house,
which she spells out as a physical force created by the accrual of negative
energy that is absorbed into the environment in places like prisons or asylums
(clever plug, gentlemen) which is then disbursed by conduits, ghosts trapped
between this world and the next. In the
time it takes for Jessica Lange to arch an eyebrow, Constance spits out
impatiently, “That’s very interesting, but what do we do about the gays? How do
we get rid of them?” Social satire and plot development in one nasty line, and
the biggest laugh of the show too.
I actually enjoyed the sense of urgency brought on by the need
to steer the show toward its inevitable conclusion—at least the structure of
the one season-one story format seems to ensure that we won’t be punished by a
long Lost-esque narrative dribble.
And I think “Birth” handles its business in this arena far better than
“Afterbirth” does. (More on that in a minute.) The thing AHS finds itself up against in these final hours is our very
expectations, the familiarity with the genre that we share with Murphy and
Falchuk (some of us are undoubtedly even better versed in it than are they),
and I’m not sure the show has either the creative desire or the impulse to
necessarily fight that sense that we pretty much know what’s coming. For all
its flashy editing and envelope-pushing in terms of vile content, it’s still
wine poured from worn skins, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.
Where AHS has annoyed me are in those
moments, like the ones the show has consistently flirted with which promised
some sort of meaningful connection between the history of real-life horrors it
evokes and the predicament of the occupants of the Murder House. That the
writers never find a way to make those characters or their situations resonate
beyond their status as apparitions taking up metaphysical space inside this
cursed home is probably the show’s biggest disappointment. I asked you early
on, Simon, just what it was that you thought made this a bedrock American horror story, and
I don’t think, in examining the episodes up to this point, we’re ever really
given much of an answer to hang our hats upon, or anything like a
prod that at least points to a darkened, unexamined wing of the
house where that answer might lie.
All that said, I was greatly appreciative that the visual style of the show
calmed down enough for the emotional power of Vivien’s trauma and death to
register—although it was very weird and disconcerting to suddenly see Dr.
Charles Montgomery, perpetrator of the horrors that got this particular
ectoplasmic conundrum started in the first place, in the traditionally
comforting role of sincerely concerned birth surgeon. And I will stand up
lastly for the scene which profoundly annoyed you, the “overheated” one between
Violet and Tate which seems to seal the fate of their relationship. The
dialogue is rather purple, I’ll admit, but it’s not delivered as such, and I
think the actors (Evan Peters and Taissa Farmiga) really get in there and fight
for what’s real about it. I think the scene works because it’s basically the
show stripped down to its essentials, in much the same way that Tate’s final
scene with Ben in “Afterbirth” is. The hysteria is past, save that final “GO
AWAY!” in which the very edges of the frame seem to vibrate and momentarily
dissolve along with the last vestiges of Tate’s pretense toward normalcy.
But enough about “Birth.” Let’s get to the leftover
placenta…
“Afterbirth,” in which all about the Harmons will finally be
shelved and sealed away, begins with a flashback (“Nine Months Ago”) to Ben and
Vivien sitting in the kitchen of their antiseptic Boston manse—the psychologist
racket has been berry-berry good to Ben, but he’s screwed that marriage to such
a degree that he’s found this old art deco palace just off Hancock Park in Los
Angeles that he figures will be a great place for he and his wronged wife and
daughter to heal. “A house isn’t gonna fix it, Ben,” Vivien insists, but ben
insists just as insistently (a lot of insisting in this scene) that bliss will
be achievable, and he details it while we get visual reminders of the horrors
they will soon have to endure. “My gut is telling me this house is gonna break
down that wall inside of you. When I look at this place,” Ben says. “For the
first time in a long while I feel like there’s hope.” It is to laugh.
Quick cut to Ben calling out for Vivien and Violet in the
empty hallways of the Murder House (nine months later; that’s the length of the
average human pregnancy gestation, in case you forgot). He cannot figure out
where his wife and daughter, now both dead, have gotten themselves to. So he
goes to visit Constance, who has been babysitting the surviving Alpha baby, he
of the accelerated nonhuman pregnancy, while Dad arranges the sale of the house
and, presumably, roams the hallways shouting “Vivien?! Violet?!” in whatever
spare time he has. Ben tells Constance that Vivien’s sister will be arriving
soon here to take the baby. Constance naturally looks upon this as a bad idea
and contrives to keep the baby under her care, but Ben won’t be taken in this
time—he demands that she hand over his son. “Your son,” Constance hisses, and
one has to wonder if Ben might finally detect something other than sarcasm
under that honeyed retort. Now backed into a corner, Constance finally comes
clean about not taking the child back into the house—there are forces there
that mean to do him great harm, “the same as they did your sweet wife.” (I got
the distinct impression Constance wanted to confess the house’s evil to him just
so she could rub his own insistent ignorance in his face one last time.) “Did you buy a casket for Violet too? After
everything that’s happened, how can you still be so blind?!” At this point Ben
notices the pic of Tate with Addy in Constance’s kitchen and flashes back,
finally connecting the dots, to the call he made to Tate’s mother about not
being able to treat her son. Ding!
Back across the way, Moira offers a friendly shoulder to
Vivien, but not before reminding her that in the afterlife she is no longer her
servant, that they are on equal footing. “How is your adjustment going?” she
asks. “Are you fighting the desire to appear to him?” Vivien tells her that she
is not considering appearing to Ben for fear that “if he sees us he’s gonna
want to stay here.” “Then sit down and keep your distance,” Moira offers,
before finishing with this one: “Remember the endgame.”
Ben finalizes preparations to leave, which turns out to
include suicide by a revolver in the mouth, all the while looking to Violet’s
picture—For inspiration? For salvation?—before Vivien is compelled to
jeopardize “the endgame” by intervening in what she imagines would be Ben’s
final disaster, leaving the baby to be raised without a father while he cools
his heels along with the other trapped ghosts. “I’m not his father and you know
it,” He moans. “I forgive you,” Vivien replies, somewhat impatiently. “So
enough with the drama and the tragedy. I’ve had enough.” (By the 12th
episode, viewers may be feeling something of the same.) There’s an impromptu
family reunion, Violet appearing now too, before everything sharply disappears
and Ben is left by himself in his office, wondering if it might not all have
just been another realistic delusion. (And I also wondered, why this abrupt
spectral way for Ben to experience the ghosts and no one else Just another
question left unanswered, I‘m afraid.)
As Ben prepares to leave, alive, Hayden confronts him on the
stairwell and with the help of the three killers steals the baby and hangs Ben
from the chandelier in front of the wailing infant. “Now we have all the time
in the world,” she says to Ben’s dangling corpse.
Enter Stacy and Miguel Ramos and their son Gabe, who take
the tour of the Murder House with the increasingly ridiculous Realtor Marcy,
who wastes no time making ethnically idiotic (and so funny!) remarks while she attempts
to sell them on the bliss of living in a house she well knows to be haunted. Gabe
immediately runs into the Twins, and is observed by Violet as well. The Ramoses,
bewitched by the allure of this house, the price of which has been mysteriously
reduced by the now-deceased sellers, buy that sucker. And the first thing I
thought to myself was, thank Christ the Ramoses didn’t buy at the start of this
season, because the prospect of spending 12 episodes with these lousy actors would
be just too much, and it made me appreciate, flaws and all, McDermott, Britton
and everyone else anew.
The two detectives who once thought they had Constance dead
to rights over the disappearance of her boy toy, the Boy Dahlia, now quiz
Constance over the whereabouts of the suddenly missing baby. She recounts to them the sad story of how she
stumbled upon Ben’s body, a story which is contrasted with a representation of
how it really went down—Constance smoking, staring up at the corpse and
addressing Ben’s ghost, now standing right beside her. “You stupid son of a
bitch,” she offers to him with as much sympathy as she can muster (.0008% by
my measurement). To which Ben replies, “I can’t believe she killed me.” There’s
comedy in there somewhere! Constance stands by to witness the undead Harmons
reunited.
She somehow convinces the police that Violet, whose body has
not yet been discovered by the outside world, must have made off with the baby
after the apparent suicide of ben and rather easily dissuades them from further
investigating her possible involvement. But Constance does know where the baby
is. While searching the Harmon house, she bumps into Hayden, in whose cold arms
the baby is cradled. They trade a couple of Murphy-approved quips and Hayden
actually tells her Constance will have to take the baby “over my dead body.”
(She really does.)
Just then Constance’s previously bisected boyfriend Travis
steps out from the shadows behind Hayden and slits Hayden’s throat, which
disables Ben’s put-upon ex-lover (“Oh, shit”) just long enough for him to grab
the baby and give it to Constance. Sweet vengeance for him, I suppose, but an
ignominious and disappointing exit for Hayden, once a favorite character, from
any vital part she might have to play in how this show settles into its final
resolve. Constance retrieves the baby and
hides it in her closet, where it was, sitting very quietly, all through the
detective’s interrogation in Constance’s kitchen.
Gabe is introduced to Violet—she plays his CD of Butthole
Surfers and insults his terrible taste in music. Violet seems to be grooving
the taunting aspect of undead flirting just to piss off Tate, who plaintively
stares and the scene which serves as a weird reboot of his own beginnings with
Violet. Meanwhile, Ramoses start getting amorous in their new kitchen while Vivien
and Ben quietly observe. “I remember when we were like that,” Vivien intones
wistfully. But when the Ramoses start talking about a new baby to replace their
soon-to-be-graduating son, Vivien and Ben are spurred to action. “I lost two
babies in this house,” says Viv.” They seem like such a nice couple. We have to
do something.” Enter Moira, who explains that they’ll need some help if they’re
really serious about an intervention in another typically expository speech: “Some
spirits in the house are angry and vengeful and eager to inflict their fate on
others. But many of us are innocent, kind, blameless victims at the hands of
another, and we don’t want to see more suffering in this house.”
Thus kicks off Murphy and Falchuk’s ghoul-infested riff on Blithe Spirit, pitting the “good” ghosts
versus the “bad” ones for the souls of the new family. Tate taunts Gabe and
threatens to kill him so Violet won’t be alone. Stacy is attacked by the Rubber
Man (it is Ben this time), and she
even sees the dead nurses in the upstairs bathroom, which kicks off an
agonizing bout of very unconvincing
screaming. (Travolta’s Jack Terry
would have erased that audition tape.) Vivien and Moira reveal the spirit of
the house to Miguel, including a SHOCK reappearance by the bisected Black
Dahlia— “YOU’RE WIDE AWAKE!”
Stacy ends
up in the basement, Miguel follows her hilarious yelping, and in front of the
two of them (but not Thaddeus, who must have remained cowering in the basement
corner in fear of having to inspire this new owner to so unconvincingly scream)
Vivien mock confronts the unmasked Ben and then disembowels him for show. “You
have no idea how long I‘ve been wanting to do that!” she says, making explicit
what we always knew about Vivien. Ben responds by shooting her in the head. Haha!
After they both fall, then get up, Ben intones to the living couple, “This is
what it does to you, this house.” “Run,”
groans Vivien, and boy, do these bad actors skedaddle. Vivien and Ben enjoy a
hearty laugh.
Meanwhile, upstairs Violet intervenes in Tate’s wacky plan
to keep Violet from being alone by killing Gabe, thus providing her with a
companion for eternity that she’ll presumably like better than Tate. (But,
dude, he listens to the Butthole Surfers! What are they gonna talk about?) “You
told me to go away,” Tate whines. “Yeah, but I never said goodbye. Come let me
say goodbye.” Violet plants one last kiss on Tate, lasting just long enough for
Gabe to escape. And then: “Goodbye, Tate.” She disappears, leaving Tate somehow
now isolated in the house.
Cut to a reprise of “You Belong to Me,” the eerie
song sung by children first heard when the redheaded twins break into the house
during the first moments of the pilot. We hear the song over the sight of the Ramoses
escaping the site of the house, too frightened to ever return. Vivien, Violet
and Ben stare out from the front door as they peel away in their station wagon.
“Some other poor family’s just gonna move in here,” Vivien worries. “Suckers’ll
have no idea what they’re in for.” But
Ben reassures her (and us): “We’ll know exactly what to do.” Who you gonna
call?!
Marcy puts up yet another “Reduced” sign on the Murder House
while the Eternal Darkness tour swings past the house one last time. Adieu,
Marcy! Then comes one of the show’s best scenes, in which Tate tries one last
time to run his scam on Ben, who seems finally to have wised up in his status
as Dead Guy with Newly-Minted Insight—he ain’t having it. If the scene smacks
slightly of that making-it-up-on-the-spot syndrome you’ve pointed out before,
Simon, then at least it has the conviction of the actors to back up it up. Both
McDermott and Peters redeem the scene in much the same way Peters and Farmiga
redeemed the spoiled romanticism of their final scene in the previous episode.
“You’re a psychopath,” he tells a moist-eyed Tate. "But
don’t listen to me. I’m a total fraud. Therapy doesn’t work.”
“Then why do people do it?” Tate reasonably wonders.
“Because they don’t want to take any responsibility for
their crappy lives, so they pay a therapist to listen to their bullshit and
make it all feel… special, so they can blame their crazy mothers for everything
that went wrong. Sound familiar? We’re not so different, Tate. I’m a bad person
too.”
“But she forgave you. Maybe she’ll forgive me too.”
“She can’t. You can only forgive someone for what they do to
you directly. Those people you murdered, they’re the only ones who can forgive
you, and you took away their chance.”
“So this is it?
There’s nothing I can do? No chance of mercy?” Tate is beside himself.
“Terrific performance, Tate,” Ben retorts, made seemingly
and forever (and ever, and ever) cynical by the experience of death in the
Murder House. “The whole misunderstood kid act? I fell for it. Violet did too.
But a psychopath by definition is incapable of remorse. So let’s try this
again, for real this time.” He moves in on Tate for special emphasis. “You
destroyed everything that mattered most to me. What could you possibly want
from me now?”
Tate apologizes again, but Ben rejects it. “What about
taking responsibility for the things you’ve done?” Tate doesn’t (cannot?)
respond. “Christ. You can’t even say the
words,” spits Ben with disgust.
Then Tate is finally
moved to confess his real world crimes. “There are other things I did. I’ll
tell you everything.”
“I’m not your priest,
Tate. I can’t absolve you for any of this.”
“I get that. But can you just… hang out with me sometimes?”
This struck me as perhaps the most moving line in the episode, perhaps even in
the series, as in so nicely encapsulates what Mira feels moved to spell out
just a few minutes later, only in the context of a real character
call-and-response.
Vivien finally gets to play her cello, but she’s interrupted by the cranky baby
that Nora is already tired of tending to. Nora assumes she is the nanny and
insists on being called Mrs. Montgomery. Vivien accedes when she realizes the
baby is hers, the unfortunate one who was presumed to have been born dead
before the emergence of the Alpha Baby. “He made one tiny little cry and then
passed on,” Nora explains bitterly.
“Apparently
I’m the only one who witnessed it. Charles didn’t—genius.” Nora dismisses the infant as unhappy and can’t
possibly hold inside how disappointed she is in him, because of his apparent
weakness and constant crying. But she asserts “the arrangements that had been
made” when Vivien tries to comfort the baby and tells her to keep her hands
off— “The baby is mine.” Vivien, understanding how easy it will be to get this
apparition to forget about yet another unsatisfactory child, offers to help
using some tricks she knows. Nora reveals that she hasn’t even named the
wailing child—she calls him “Little Noisy Monster,” and Vivien immediately
comforts him with song. “Oh, thank God,” Nora sighs, tacitly, eternally
relieving herself of maternal obligation. “I was actually quite worried I might
harm him if he didn’t quiet down. Perhaps you can keep him for the night.” “You
rest, Mrs. Montgomery,” Vivien offers in her best approximation of the tones
employed by Moira in her servitude. “We’ll be fine.” Nora waves her off and
reveals this shocker: “I’m not entirely sure I have the patience to be a
mother.”
Vivien brings the baby to Moira who is in the
kitchen—“Cleaning is what I’m good at, so I’ll just carry on.” Vivien offers to
let her hold the baby, and an eternal bond is forged when she asks Moira to be the
baby’s godmother, yet another new member of the Harmon family. Soon they are
all decorating the Christmas tree together and Violet marvels at just how
ancient the tree ornaments are. (I was marveling at where they got all this
stuff, but that’s just me.) Moira responds by reminding her, echoing Tate’s
existential fears, “You’ll come to understand, Violet, that the word ‘ancient’
loses all its meaning when your entire existence is one long today.”
Ben then
offers the most unlikely of all sentiments in the first season of American Horror Story: “I didn’t think
it was possible ever again, but I’m happy.” Of course the camera pans from this
scene of undead familial bliss (one which I’ll admit I was grateful for, and
not just because of the way it slightly curdles the typical feel-good Hollywood
Christmas ending) to two familiar figures staring, quite separate from the glow
of the hearth and the radiating love, through a series of windows. Hayden says
to Tate, deflating the holiday spirit, “Grow a pair, Rambo. She’s not into you.
You’re not getting back into her. She’ll never talk to you again.”
Tate’s all-too-true response: “I’ll wait forever if I have
to.”
But wait! That’s not all! The title card says “THREE YEARS
LATER”…
Constance enters a beauty salon, where she is greeted by her
hairdresser, who obviously hasn’t seen her in a long time. When she asks what
Constance has been up to, Constance replies, downplaying somewhat, “I’ve been
just a little bit housebound of late. I had a baby.” Ever the frustrated
actress, Constance then spins an elaborate scenario of the orphaning of little
Michael for the hairdresser’s benefit.
After the salon session in which Constance’s bouffant is restored to
epic dominance, the hairdresser compliments her: “I don’t think you have ever
looked younger or more radiant.” Well, this is catnip to our Constance, who
stares into the mirror and begins a brief soliloquy that certainly reminded me
of everything I liked about Jessica Lange’s performance in this show, even
after all the rough patches. “It’s true, isn’t it?” she asks rhetorically,
admiring her own visage as the wheels of her mind begin to turn.
“Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was destined for
great things… Tragedy was preparing me for something greater. Every loss that
came before was a lesson. I was being prepared, and now I know for what. This
child. A remarkable boy, destined for greatness, in need of a remarkable
mother, someone forged in the fires of adversity who can guide him with wisdom,
with firmness, with love.”
Constance returns home to find her housekeeper Flora
murdered, her throat torn out, little Michael sitting over the body in a white
rocker. He giggles, angelic face smeared with blood. “Now what am I gonna do
with you?” she asks, gazing on him admiringly.
Calling Mrs. Baylock!
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Well, Simon, I had a lot more issues with the sort of
cut-and-paste sensibility of this wrap-up than I did with “Birth,” but warts and
all I still enjoyed it and felt it was a fitting way to bring the season to a
close. I almost wrote that I wish there had been more time to investigate some
of the things I still find lacking, but I imagine that investigation would just
result in more dead ends like the whole idea of invoking Los Angeles’s (and America’s)
real-life horrors. Using echoes of Richard Speck and Charles Manson and Elizabeth
Short to adorn what ends up a not especially surprising story that is far less
original at close range than the glance at its surface in real time suggests is
disappointing, and maybe even at times offensive. But by its end there is some
power to American Horror Story that
transcends all the deadening attempts by its creators to be wise and hip and above
it all, and I’d wager my conclusion would be that it’s the actors who bring to it
that weight. They are who I’ll remember long after the skittering, fractured images
of monstrosity that are this show’s moldering bread and butter have long been
ionized and floated away. And I'd be lying if I said I begrudged this show, after all it has put its characters-- and us-- through, the attempt at bringing a little light into the scenario vis-a-vis its holiday tinged denouement. Of course there's room from that Omen-oid stinger at the end too, and naturally I salute that. But I also appreciated the sliver of possibility for some afterlife peace, however short-lived, for the Harmons and Moira, and maybe even Tate, if he'll just stop hanging out with Hayden and convince Ben to chew the fat every once in a while. Constance's place in the design of the coming apocalypse, is well assured, and it's nice to know that somewhere inside the Murder House there is solace and repose from even that.
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(* I hope I do better on my 2013 New Year’s resolutions…)
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Catch up on the American Horror Story conversation between Simon and me by clicking on the following links:
"SMOLDERING CHILDREN" POST #2
"SMOLDERING CHILDREN" POST #1
"SPOOKY LITTLE GIRL" POST #2
"RUBBER MAN" POST #3
"SMOLDERING CHILDREN" POST #1
"SPOOKY LITTLE GIRL" POST #2
"RUBBER MAN" POST #3
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2 comments:
Not again! Ugh!
Ha! Is that you, Simon? :)
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