harlemofhorror

[harlemofhorror]

HORROR CHARACTER 098

To keep our favorite forlorn, little girl "alive in our hearts," intermittent separations may be necessary. Samara is and will always be the character who this page is meant for but to keep her memory fresh, we will be conducting a countdown of sorts.

The question is: Who are the best horror characters of all time? Keep in mind what I mean when I say horror characters: While you may automatically skip to scary, grotesque, or thrilling, this countdown is intended for any character in any horror movie. In other words, focus on the word characters and not on the word horror.

Let's skip off to Horror Character #098: What's a Homunculus?

#100: Cesare. From: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920).

A classic silent horror film, it begins with Francis recounting his days in Holstenwall. He and a friend had visited the exhibit of Dr. Caligari, who presented to them Cesare, a somnambulist that had been asleep for over 23 years. Cesare makes a prediction of Francis' friend's death before dawn, who is indeed found murdered the next morning. Francis soon suspects Dr. Caligari himself and his sideshow, Cesare.

[harlemofhorror]

HORROR CHARACTER 099

To keep our favorite forlorn, little girl "alive in our hearts," intermittent separations may be necessary. Samara is and will always be the character who this page is meant for but to keep her memory fresh, we will be conducting a countdown of sorts.

The question is: Who are the best horror characters of all time? Keep in mind what I mean when I say horror characters: While you may automatically skip to scary, grotesque, or thrilling, this countdown is intended for any character in any horror movie. In other words, focus on the word characters and not on the word horror.

Let's skip off to Horror Character #099: This Particular May Queen.

#100: Dani Ardor. From: Midsommar (2019).

An American couple, Dani and Christian, are drawn into a violent cult located in the heart of Sweden. Of course, this is after poor Dani is traumatized when her mentally ill sister kills their parents and herself. Christian has been becoming increasingly distant but, nonetheless, invites Dani to come along when he and a couple of friends are invited to attend a midsummer festival at the Harga, a rural region of Sweden. After both Dani and Christian drink a hallucinogenic tea, and Dani wins a maypole dancing competition, the final ceremony is explained to them: the commune must offer nine human sacrifices to purge itself of evil. This is when the real fun begins! Maybe Christian shouldn't have drank that tea?

[harlemofhorror]

HORROR CHARACTER 100

To keep our favorite forlorn, little girl "alive in our hearts," intermittent separations may be necessary. Samara is and will always be the character who this page is meant for but to keep her memory fresh, we will be conducting a countdown of sorts.

The question is: Who are the best horror characters of all time? Keep in mind what I mean when I say horror characters: While you may automatically skip to scary, grotesque, or thrilling, this countdown is intended for any character in any horror movie. In other words, focus on the word character and not on the word scary.

Let's skip off to Horror Character #100: The Man Who May Not be Dead After All.

#100: Michel Delasalle. From: Les Diaboliques.

Released in 1955, this French suspense film, is considered a classic of the genre, even going so far as influencing Psycho. Based on the novel translated as "She Who Was No More", the setting is a decrepit school for boys run by, you guessed it, a cruel headmaster. Not only does he treat his students badly, he treats his wife, and his mistress, badly. The wife and the mistress conspire to his murder, making it seem like an accidental drowning, but his body goes missing. The women begin to witness chilling events that indicates that their tormentor may still be alive.

[harlemofhorror]

FORLORN, LITTLE GIRL: 4

These eyes scared her at first.  While some seemed void of emotion, others were keenly interested in her every movement.  But she didn’t know why.�� It was so dark that she could only see these eyes, not the bodies or the faces that they were part of.  There were five sets of eyes altogether, but she could see the set in the middle much more clearly than the others.

In fact, she could see the complete outline of its face, without any clear idea of its complexion or other features.  This one suddenly opened its mouth wide, making itself into a complete circular shape, leaving its eyes bulging, staring into empty space, as if completely unaware of Samara’s presence.  That is when Samara noticed that the five sets of eyes almost made a circular ring shape, with two sets at the top and two sets at the bottom.  The four eyes outlining the bottom of the circle seemed to be the only ones that were aware that Samara was there.  She shivered at the picture of it all, still wondering where they had come from.

And that’s when she noticed the humming once again.  But it wasn’t vibrating from all of them, only from the set of eyes in the middle, the one that still had its mouth open.  It was soft, low, but it was definitely the same melody that she had been hearing the last several times that she had visited this well.  After a few notes, she finally heard singing, she heard words.  The open ring was singing the words “...the baby is left alone to look at the well...”  

This song, these lyrics, seemed very familiar to Samara.  She quizzed her mind for a few seconds to figure out where she had heard it before.  And that’s when Samara recalled that it was an antiquated nursery rhyme that had supposedly originated in Korea.  She had only heard it once, but Samara had been drawn to it immediately.  It was so sad and, apparently, there were ghost stories associated with it.

Samara felt the need to know more about this song, including its complete lyrics.  She wanted to be able to sing along with the well.  Nothing else, nobody else, had ever made her feel as welcome; nobody seemed to accept her the way that these five creatures did.  They did not shy from her at all; they did not make her feel unloved or unwelcome.  But Samara still did not know who or even what they were.

[For those unfamiliar with the nursery rhyme referenced above, https://en.namu.wiki/w/%EC%84%AC%EC%A7%91%20%EC%95%84%EA%B8%B0.]

[harlemofhorror]

The Ring's Best Trope Gets A Hilarious Twist In Webcomic

If you have not heard of this cutest comic series ever, then you are missing out! Inspired by Sadako (Samara) herself, it puts a new spin on the whole idea, making it truly endearing and heartwarming. As a mother myself, I especially enjoyed the comic 'Happy Mother's Day 2025' and love the fact that the mother, Emiko, is as critical to the series as Erma herself. I sincerely encourage you to check it out!

[harlemofhorror]

Forlorn, Little Girl: 2

Knowing that her parents were not going to do anything to retaliate against any of the horses, much less the one in question, Samara’s anger only continued to fester.  She had continued going to school, out with her mother to wherever she might be going, even with her father to feed the horses, acting as if everything was normal and that she was not stifling any feelings at all, but the anger continued to boil inside of her.  But she didn’t know how to let it out.  Even though she was certainly positive that she had to find a way.

That’s when she found the well that she was sitting on today.  Samara had just been walking around, a lonesome seven-year-old, looking for a way out.  Looking for comfort.  Trying to think of a safe way to get even with the horse without her parents finding out.  The well had quickly become one of her favorite places to hide, to think, to be alone.  She found herself spending time there every day for weeks on end, just to enjoy the quiet.

Until she heard it and realized that it wasn’t quiet anymore.  And the more that she heard it, she started to question whether it had ever been completely silent at all.  What she heard was singing.  Muffled, distant singing.  But Samara was sure of it.  And it sounded so beautiful.  She found that she heard the singing ever more clearly the closer that she got to the well.

And, one day, sitting there, on the ground next to the well, under the trees, she found that she started to believe something that couldn’t possibly be true.  But the humming, the vibrations, they seemed to come from within.  Was she one with the well?  Was the well within her?  Samara started questioning her own sanity as she could clearly see that the well was outside of her.

Could there be two wells?  Because it just seemed to Samara that, as the singing continued, she knew every word of the song.  She knew the rhythm.  Samara knew how the song would go before it even went to the next beat.  She finally decided to sing along.  The song was in her heart, it was reverberating in her brain, she might as well go along with it.  After all, if this was not Samara’s own voice that she was hearing, then it was a voice that could clearly hear her.

Forlorn, Little Girl: 3

Keeping the music in her head, but not speaking about it to anyone, not sharing the thoughts that she was having, Samara continued to live her young days with her parents, pretending that she had forgotten all that had happened.  After all, what other choice did she have?  Her parents had both already shown their ineptitude towards her, as if they had never raised a child.  While it was true that she did not have any siblings, somehow they were able to show generosity towards the horses but not towards her.  But, believe me when I say, Samara had not forgotten.

Collecting grievances seemed to be a trait that was inborn in Samara.  Although she tried so hard, although she did not want to be bad, even in her own perception, anger was not an emotion that she let go of easily.  That’s why she had been drawn to the horses at first; she was trying to find something to calm her down on that day when her father yelled at her.  Again.  But he always seemed to be yelling at her for one thing or another.

But the horses had proven on that day that they didn’t want to be around her either.  Samara had only been trying to be nice to one of them, trying to feed it a carrot, and it kicked her in the head.  Of course, neither of her parents had ever warned her not to walk behind one either.  Oh well, she had recovered, according to them, and everything was as it should be.  She went to school, had her dinner, completed her chores, every day everything was in its tight little square.

Samara went back to the well once more late one night.  She walked to the well once or twice a week, late at night, without her parents being any the wiser.  She couldn’t help but to smile at herself, knowing that in some ways it was nice that her parents didn’t pay that much attention to her.  But as she got closer, she heard the music once more.  And it was louder; it was not coming from her head.

As she crept closer and closer, taking tiny, dainty steps, she recognized every note.  It was the same music that she had heard the first time, the same music that she had been humming to herself for weeks now.  It seduced her, lulled her into getting closer, letting her know that she was wanted there.  She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, luxuriating in its warmth as the music wrapped around her.  When Samara opened her eyes once again, she realized that she was being watched by several sets of eyes.

Forlorn, Little Girl

Sitting on the stellar but smooth rock next to the calm waters, Samara combed her luxurious black hair with the wide-toothed comb that her mother had given her before she died.  This was a favorite pastime of hers as she did it often, loving both the feel of her hair as it went through her fingers and the sound of the water as it played next to her.  Sometimes she wished that her mother was here with her, but she tried not to concentrate on that too hard.

She had always loved her mother.  She just never understood why her mother didn’t love her, why she always wanted to make those horses her priority.  Those horses were particularly brutish animals and had always gotten nervous around her, showing their anxieties in strange ways.  Sammy remembered a particular occurrence when she had first met one of the horses, or remembered meeting the horses anyway.

She had tried to be nice to the black mare, going up to it very slowly with her hand outstretched.  Sammy had really wanted to pet it, but the animal had shied away quickly from any movement that she had tried to make.  Finally, after several tries, Sammy was all the way up to it and felt the strength of the animal.  She looked up, knowing that the horse was towering over her, so much taller than she could ever be.  Certainly not the first or the last time, but the young girl had felt completely intimidated.

Samara slowly continued to comb her glossy hair as the memory lived on in her mind.  After what had happened, of course she was going to hate horses.  She was deathly afraid of them for good reason.  And her mother had done nothing except to move that one particular horse.  The other horses continued to have all of her attention, all of her love, as if nothing had ever happened, as if horses could not possibly be dangerous.

The black mare had kicked Samara so hard that she had been in the hospital, in a concussion, asleep for over two days.  The machines had kept her alive until Samara had found the strength to heal herself.  It was then that Samara started to slowly understand that she was special, that she wasn’t the ordinary girl that most others were and thought that she was, too.  Sadly, however, shortly afterwards when her mother refused to do anything back to the horse, was when Samara also realized that she was alone.

[harlemofhorror]

[harlemofhorror]

Theories: Football Game?

The Ring Fan Theories (WMG) - TV Tropes

In due time, I will be addressing my own opinions about each theory from the link listed above. Note that they are only my opinions, and while I absolutely adore Samara Morgan, anybody can feel free to disagree with me in a lightful manner. Though Samara herself is serious, I believe that she would consider all of this only banter anyway.

THEORY: Samara did not record her videotape over a football game at the cabin.

IMO: HITH!! did 'The Sixth Sense' enter Samara's realm? (Read the blogger's own beliefs from the link above.) While some (and I use that word loosely) similarities could be stretched from both movies, really these two characters, Samara Morgan and Cole Sear, exist in totally different stratospheres.

Contradicting the original blogger completely, I believe that Samara has such immense supernatural powers that she definitely could videotape over something "already in progress". However, I do believe in this instance that she did. I believe that somewhere along the way - and I could write another novel describing when and where, but I will not be doing that - she found this videotape and used it for her own purposes. Yes, obviously she had already been dropped down the well before doing this, but she escaped and found out about the powers of now-extinct developed technology. Anyone underestimating Samara's powers are truly in for a rude awakening.

[harlemofhorror]

SUBMISSIONS/RPs

Always looking for a cowriter on any RP that revolves around any established horror character. I like to take characters that are already out there in the horror genre and let their story continue, flourish. Changes can be made to the character, making them into something "new", or letting them stay who they are but their stories continue. So, if interested in writing with me, whether with me as Samara or something else you might have in mind, send me a shout out. I prefer no original characters OCs but can work with something/someone who has a definite plan on what they would like to do. I'm very open-minded.

[harlemofhorror]

Forlorn, Little Girl: 2

Knowing that her parents were not going to do anything to retaliate against any of the horses, much less the one in question, Samara’s anger only continued to fester.  She had continued going to school, out with her mother to wherever she might be going, even with her father to feed the horses, acting as if everything was normal and that she was not stifling any feelings at all, but the anger continued to boil inside of her.  But she didn’t know how to let it out.  Even though she was certainly positive that she had to find a way.

That’s when she found the well that she was sitting on today.  Samara had just been walking around, a lonesome seven-year-old, looking for a way out.  Looking for comfort.  Trying to think of a safe way to get even with the horse without her parents finding out.  The well had quickly become one of her favorite places to hide, to think, to be alone.  She found herself spending time there every day for weeks on end, just to enjoy the quiet.

Until she heard it and realized that it wasn’t quiet anymore.  And the more that she heard it, she started to question whether it had ever been completely silent at all.  What she heard was singing.  Muffled, distant singing.  But Samara was sure of it.  And it sounded so beautiful.  She found that she heard the singing ever more clearly the closer that she got to the well.

And, one day, sitting there, on the ground next to the well, under the trees, she found that she started to believe something that couldn’t possibly be true.  But the humming, the vibrations, they seemed to come from within.  Was she one with the well?  Was the well within her?  Samara started questioning her own sanity as she could clearly see that the well was outside of her.

Could there be two wells?  Because it just seemed to Samara that, as the singing continued, she knew every word of the song.  She knew the rhythm.  Samara knew how the song would go before it even went to the next beat.  She finally decided to sing along.  The song was in her heart, it was reverberating in her brain, she might as well go along with it.  After all, if this was not Samara’s own voice that she was hearing, then it was a voice that could clearly hear her.

[harlemofhorror]

Forlorn, Little Girl

Sitting on the stellar but smooth rock next to the calm waters, Samara combed her luxurious black hair with the wide-toothed comb that her mother had given her before she died.  This was a favorite pastime of hers as she did it often, loving both the feel of her hair as it went through her fingers and the sound of the water as it played next to her.  Sometimes she wished that her mother was here with her, but she tried not to concentrate on that too hard.

She had always loved her mother.  She just never understood why her mother didn’t love her, why she always wanted to make those horses her priority.  Those horses were particularly brutish animals and had always gotten nervous around her, showing their anxieties in strange ways.  Sammy remembered a particular occurrence when she had first met one of the horses, or remembered meeting the horses anyway.

She had tried to be nice to the black mare, going up to it very slowly with her hand outstretched.  Sammy had really wanted to pet it, but the animal had shied away quickly from any movement that she had tried to make.  Finally, after several tries, Sammy was all the way up to it and felt the strength of the animal.  She looked up, knowing that the horse was towering over her, so much taller than she could ever be.  Certainly not the first or the last time, but the young girl had felt completely intimidated.

Samara slowly continued to comb her glossy hair as the memory lived on in her mind.  After what had happened, of course she was going to hate horses.  She was deathly afraid of them for good reason.  And her mother had done nothing except to move that one particular horse.  The other horses continued to have all of her attention, all of her love, as if nothing had ever happened, as if horses could not possibly be dangerous.

The black mare had kicked Samara so hard that she had been in the hospital, in a concussion, asleep for over two days.  The machines had kept her alive until Samara had found the strength to heal herself.  It was then that Samara started to slowly understand that she was special, that she wasn’t the ordinary girl that most others were and thought that she was, too.  Sadly, however, shortly afterwards when her mother refused to do anything back to the horse, was when Samara also realized that she was alone.

[harlemofhorror]

Name:  Samara Morgan

Fandom:  The Ring

Species:  Otherworld

Gender:  Female

Pronouns:  She/her

Age:  17, but will range

Muse Status:  Active, Primary

Nickname:  Sammy

Birthday:  December 11, 1970

Zodiac Sign:  Sagittarius

Birthplace:  Nara, Japan

Current Residence:  Aurora, Colorado

Height:  5’2”

Weight:  106 lbs.

Hair Color, Style:  black, straight and long

Eye Color:  gray

Style of dress:  only wears long, flowing dresses, usually black or white, but sometimes other neutral colors

Parents:  biological father Galen Burke, biological mother Evelyn Osorio, adopted parents of Anna and Richard Morgan, now lives on her own

Siblings:  brother Kiri, sisters Devika and Tiare, not much about any currently known

Likes:  water - whether from a well or in a huge ocean, trees - especially climbing them, creepy crawlies - but especially spiders and earthworms

Dislikes:  horses - she is terribly afraid of them, closed tight spaces - for the same reason, computers and video cameras

Searching for:  affection from anyone who truly loves her

Strengths:  telekinesis, for her size she has incredible physical strength

Weaknesses:  the need for approval, she often cannot comprehend the behavior of other people

Education:  currently in high school

Criminal past:  nothing on record, but she has murdered several, including animals, out of lack of comprehension

[harlemofhorror]

Snowy Blossoms

[harlemofhorror]

Art by Apofiss

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[harlemofhorror]

[harlemofhorror]

These men have been running through my mind lately, Hall Pass Upgraded!!