Castle Rock dives into a spooky town in Maine. Strange things happen there. Dark secrets lurk everywhere. It is all about identity, trauma and evil. Characters struggle with their past and present. Complex and interesting, they pull you in. Haunting tone and atmosphere make it a must-watch for horror fans. You will think, you will feel and you might even jump a little!

Meet the characters from Castle Rock

The Kid

Oh man, The Kid is this eerie wobble of a presence — equal parts ancient and painfully young-feeling, like someone who remembers ancient winters but still misses recess. He’s silent more than he talks, watches more than he moves, and there’s always that weird hint that he’s not entirely sure which side of a story he’s on. Creepy but oddly sympathetic; you root for him even when he does the unsettling stuff. Also, I swear he hums to himself sometimes? Or maybe I made that up.

Henry Deaver

Henry is the brooding lawyer with a suitcase full of regrets and very organized file folders, the kind of guy who apologizes mid-sentence. He’s painfully empathetic (to a fault), intuitive about people, and keeps getting dragged back to Castle Rock like it’s a bad habit he can’t quit. Quiet strength, haunted past, but he’ll roll up his sleeves and actually do the hard, awkward thing — usually with a pun or two, because of course he does. He collects typewriter ribbons in a shoebox for reasons that make sense in his head.

Annie Wilkes

Annie is terrifyingly cheerful on the surface — like a grandma with a very sharp knife and a suspiciously homey apron — and then utterly unhinged the second plans go sideways. She’s clingy in the worst and most memorable way, obstinate as a freight train, and believes with absolute conviction that she knows what’s best (for everyone). She loves a good cup of something sweet, hums showtunes, and will rewrite your day whether you want it or not. Also, she bakes, and the pie may or may not be partially a threat.

Molly Strand

Molly is steady, kind of no-nonsense, the person people call when a thing actually needs doing — sheriff-y energy but softer, like if a badge had a sweater. She’s resilient, practical, and believes in small, stubborn decencies, even when the town keeps trying her patience. Has a laugh that sneaks up on you and a secret stash of horror paperbacks under her bed (don’t tell her book club). Occasionally she’ll go off on a surprising tangent about conspiracy theories and then apologize like three times.

John ‘Ace’ Merrill

Ace is charismatic in that terrible-older-kid way — loud, dangerous, and always convinced he’s the center of the story. He lords nostalgia like it’s armor: tells the same bar stories, smokes too much, and runs a little crime empire that’s equal parts menace and weird community-service vibe. He’s both a bully and weirdly magnetic; people follow him even when they shouldn’t. Also, he collects matchbooks for reasons he won’t explain and cries at the end of old westerns.

Abdi Howlwadaag

Abdi has this calm, careful energy — the kind of person who arranges chairs by color and remembers everyone’s birthday even if he says he doesn’t. He’s thoughtful, deeply loyal to his family and community, and has a dry sense of humor that sneaks up on you. He’s practical (fixes things, files taxes, tends to plants) but also carries a notebook of half-written poems, which is adorable and slightly confusing. Sometimes he’ll tell a story and get one or two details wrong on purpose, like he’s keeping an alternate ending just in case.

Jackie Torrance

Jackie is this wild little flint of a character — trying to outrun a legacy while also leaning into it, messy but genuinely brave. He’s impulsive, a little heartbreaking, and has a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing at the exact right time. Loves cooking late-night ramen? Yes. Hates talking about his dad? Also yes. He paints, poorly but passionately, and leaves his brushes in the sink like a small act of rebellion.

Dr. Nadia Howlwadaag

Nadia is precise, brilliant, and quietly fierce — a doctor with a thousand notes and the patience of someone who’s stitched together broken things before. She balances scientific rigor with a tenderness that catches people off guard, and she won’t hesitate to shut down nonsense (medical or otherwise). She collects old medical pamphlets and has an inexplicable fondness for cheap gummy candies, which is the cutest thing. Also, she sometimes talks to herself in accents when problem-solving, no shame.

Ruth Deaver

Ruth is the kind of mom who carries a flashlight in her purse and a dozen unspoken apologies; she’s practical but soft-edged, with ironic sweaters and a memory for small kindnesses. She’s protective, faintly sarcastic, and hides worry in sarcastic comments that are half-true and half-warning. There’s this enormous reservoir of love under the exhaustion, and occasionally she’ll break into hymn-singing for no reason, which is both comforting and slightly alarming. She also keeps a drawer of odd receipts — sentimental hoarder, maybe?

Joy Wilkes

Joy looks fragile at first glance but is secretly a lot more complicated — hopeful, messy, and stubborn in ways that surprise even her. She flutters between cheerful optimism and a darker streak of realism, like someone trying very hard to choose the sunny path while knowing the other one exists. She loves small domestic rituals (tea, perfect kettle whistling) and also reads things she shouldn’t at three in the morning. Occasionally she says things that don’t add up, and that’s honestly the best part.

Chris Merrill

Chris is volatile, loud, and wound tight — the kind of kid whose bravado is a coat you can see through. He’s fiercely loyal to the people he loves, quick to anger, and somehow also desperately wanting to be seen as more than his family name. He does dumb crimes and then has weirdly tender moments of regret, like apologizing to a dog in the rain. Also, he’s got a hidden talent for whistling complicated tunes and denies it fiercely.