The Samara Chronicles
1st January 1975
My name is Samara Evelyn Morgan and this is my new diary. It's a birthday present, even though my birthdays not till tomorrow. Mommy said it's good to start a diary on the first day of the year, so that's why she gave it to me. She said it was for writing down all my deepest, darkest thoughts, all my secrets. Mommy says I'm a clever little girl for being able to write so well. She couldn't write much when she was five, she said. My writing is very messy, though. Mommy says that doesn't matter, as long as I can write. My writing will get neater, she says, when I get older. I guess she's right. But when I show Daddy my writing he looks at me like I'm something wrong and bad, something that shouldn't be here. He doesn't look at me like I'm his clever little girl.
Ealier I heard him talking to Mommy about my writing. He said it's bad, little girls shouldn't be able to write so well as I can. He thinks there's something wrong with me.
"She shouldn't be doing that," he said. He and Mommy were in their room, but I could hear them. I'm good at hearing things. "It's not good. She's too young! Could you write when you were that age? I sure as hell couldn't,"
"Richard," Mommy said. "I'm not sure exactly what's so bad about a child being intelligent,"
"Don't you understand, Anna? It's not only intelligence. She has trouble sleeping. She always has, even when she was a baby. She never slept at all back then. And she never cried. She was never sick. She's not a normal child, Anna. I can feel it,"
Mommy doesn't believe him and she's right not to. It's not true. I am a child, I'm their child. Why does he hate me so much? It's not fair. He claims to be worried about me, but I know he's not. I just know things sometimes, like when it's going to rain and knowing how Daddy feels is one of those things. He doesn't like me. He never liked me. But Mommy loves me. She's proud of me. But I can do things she doesn't know about yet. She has seen some things I can do, but she doesn't know it was me doing them. I move things around her and she notices, but she just thinks she's tired and forgot where she put them. If I'm angry with someone, I can make them hurt. Not much. Just a tummy ache. Like I can only move small objects, and only a short distance. But I get better the more I practice. And like I already said, I get these feelings, I know things. And I see things sometimes. When I was very little they used to keep me awake. I still have trouble sleeping. I don't always see bad things, but I do sometimes. Mostly I see Mommy. There's a picture of a white circle that I keep seeing. It gives me a bad feeling, but I don't know why. It's only a circle, surely it can't mean something bad. Mommy just came in and told me to brush my teeth and go to bed, so I have to stop writing. I'll write more in the morning.
2nd January 1975
It's my birthday! I got lots of presents! Mommy got me a reading book, which she says I will probably be able to read now. I also got a dolls house and a little china doll and some new pencils to write with. I hugged Mommy to thank her for the presents. She told me to look after my doll. I promised her I would. She sitting next to me now. Daddy went outside and made me a wing, while me and Mommy went to the beach. Mommy went swimming, but I didn't go. I don't like the water. It scares me. So I played on the rocks instead. Later, Daddy took me and Mommy fishing on a boat, but we didn't catch anything. Oh well.
12th January 1975
We've gone to Shelter Mountain today. We'll be staying there for a while. It's this place Mommy and Daddy own, up in the mountains. There's this little well, and when I stand in front of it, I can see this tree. It's a very pretty tree. I stare at it for hours on end. Mommy thinks it's stange, but it really is a nice tree. I like how it is at sunset. The setting sun shines through the leaves and it looks like it's on fire. But when I look at the tree, I never get to close to the well. The well scares me. It has water in it. So I try not to fall in. But I did fall down, Mommy would rescue me. I know she would, she'd never let me be hurt. Hurt is bad, and Mommy doesn't want me to feel bad. She wants me to be happy. I think I am happy. I don't know what being not happy is like.