Samara Morgan's Journal
6 July 1977
In the barn tonight, yet again. But tonight I have news. Daddy says he's going to send me to a mental hospital in few days' time if Mommy doesn't stop having these awful images in her head. He says it's my fault that nobody on the island has enough to eat, and we have to go to the mainland quite often to buy their food. But I don't do this. I don't do any of it. And he says that I'd better not try anything funny with the horses. Daddy loves the horses more. But I don't like them. They keep me up at night. I never sleep. I don't the horses. And Daddy doesn't like me. But Mommy loves me. She doesn't tell me that the bad things happening are all my fault. She tells Daddy that I wouldn't do anything bad to the horses, but he doesn't listen to her anymore. He tells her she doesn't know what she's saying, and he says that I'm doing it to her. He tells her that I'm controlling her, possessing her, and tells me that I'd better stop. I know what they're saying right now. But they don't know it. "Richard, why? There's no reason why Samara has to be put in the barn loft at all! And what's this she's telling me you're saying about a mental hospital? I'll not let you do this to her," says Mommy. "Anna, be reasonable! The girl is a potential danger to your health! We can't have her in the house, especially not at night," says Daddy. "No, Richard, she's not dangerous! Samara would never hurt me, you, or the horses! Please, Richard, go and let her in the house. It's stifling in that barn, and I don't want her hurt," Mommy says. "I'm not going to argue with you, Anna, just get to bed. I've got calls to make," says Daddy. And now I hear Mommy going up the stairs to her room. She is very sad that I have to be in the barn. I don't want to hurt her, and every word she's saying is true. But I wonder what for Daddy has to make these calls. I do hope he is not talking about the mental hospital.
10 July 1977
Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. That is all I have left, until I am admitted to the mental hosptal. And until then, I am confined to the barn. I'm not allowed for Mommy to see me. And it's all Daddy ever says to me. "Seven days, Samara, only seven days," he'll say. When he comes up with the cold food. When he brings me to the house to use the bathroom. When he comes up to check that I'm still here and that the horses are unharmed. That is all he ever says. And now he and Mommy argue about me. "Richard, NO. Can't you...isn't there a way you could...? Just don't, Richard. Please. For me. Just don't," Mommy says. "Anna, I can't undo it now, even if I'd wanted to. There's no way I can take it back without the hospital getting suspicious," Daddy says. "Oh, who cares if they get suspicious? They can't interfere here!" Mommy shouts. "Anna, I CANNOT," Daddy says. "Well, can't I just SEE her, at least?" Mommy says weakly, sadly. "No, Anna," Daddy says. And then the argument is over. A centipede crawls across the floor. I imagine what the barnloft would look like on fire, covered in flame. All bright and orange and harsh. And now Daddy bursts in. But why? "Samara?" he says. "Yes, Daddy?" I say. "Um...is everything okay in here?" he asks. "Yes, Daddy," I say. "There isn't any fire in here?" he asks. "No, Daddy," I say. He leaves. And I know what this is about. He saw it on fire in his head. 'The sooner she's out, the better,' he thinks. I do hope he is not really thinking about the mental hospital.
6 July 1977
In the barn tonight, yet again. But tonight I have news. Daddy says he's going to send me to a mental hospital in few days' time if Mommy doesn't stop having these awful images in her head. He says it's my fault that nobody on the island has enough to eat, and we have to go to the mainland quite often to buy their food. But I don't do this. I don't do any of it. And he says that I'd better not try anything funny with the horses. Daddy loves the horses more. But I don't like them. They keep me up at night. I never sleep. I don't the horses. And Daddy doesn't like me. But Mommy loves me. She doesn't tell me that the bad things happening are all my fault. She tells Daddy that I wouldn't do anything bad to the horses, but he doesn't listen to her anymore. He tells her she doesn't know what she's saying, and he says that I'm doing it to her. He tells her that I'm controlling her, possessing her, and tells me that I'd better stop. I know what they're saying right now. But they don't know it. "Richard, why? There's no reason why Samara has to be put in the barn loft at all! And what's this she's telling me you're saying about a mental hospital? I'll not let you do this to her," says Mommy. "Anna, be reasonable! The girl is a potential danger to your health! We can't have her in the house, especially not at night," says Daddy. "No, Richard, she's not dangerous! Samara would never hurt me, you, or the horses! Please, Richard, go and let her in the house. It's stifling in that barn, and I don't want her hurt," Mommy says. "I'm not going to argue with you, Anna, just get to bed. I've got calls to make," says Daddy. And now I hear Mommy going up the stairs to her room. She is very sad that I have to be in the barn. I don't want to hurt her, and every word she's saying is true. But I wonder what for Daddy has to make these calls. I do hope he is not talking about the mental hospital.
10 July 1977
Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. Seven days. That is all I have left, until I am admitted to the mental hosptal. And until then, I am confined to the barn. I'm not allowed for Mommy to see me. And it's all Daddy ever says to me. "Seven days, Samara, only seven days," he'll say. When he comes up with the cold food. When he brings me to the house to use the bathroom. When he comes up to check that I'm still here and that the horses are unharmed. That is all he ever says. And now he and Mommy argue about me. "Richard, NO. Can't you...isn't there a way you could...? Just don't, Richard. Please. For me. Just don't," Mommy says. "Anna, I can't undo it now, even if I'd wanted to. There's no way I can take it back without the hospital getting suspicious," Daddy says. "Oh, who cares if they get suspicious? They can't interfere here!" Mommy shouts. "Anna, I CANNOT," Daddy says. "Well, can't I just SEE her, at least?" Mommy says weakly, sadly. "No, Anna," Daddy says. And then the argument is over. A centipede crawls across the floor. I imagine what the barnloft would look like on fire, covered in flame. All bright and orange and harsh. And now Daddy bursts in. But why? "Samara?" he says. "Yes, Daddy?" I say. "Um...is everything okay in here?" he asks. "Yes, Daddy," I say. "There isn't any fire in here?" he asks. "No, Daddy," I say. He leaves. And I know what this is about. He saw it on fire in his head. 'The sooner she's out, the better,' he thinks. I do hope he is not really thinking about the mental hospital.