Miles Ekhardt

In Welcome to Derry — the latest chapter in Stephen King’s terrifying universe — the fear is familiar: red balloons, storm drains, that feeling that something dark is waiting just below the surface of ordinary life. But the first person you meet in this new story isn’t a monster. It’s a kid. That kid is Miles Ekhardt. Sixteen. From the Midwest. He’s the one who opens the series. He’s the first face you see. He’s the one who pulls you into Derry.

On screen, he looks like he was born for it — the kind of cold open performance that makes you think, “Oh, this kid’s a pro. He must have a whole machine behind him.” But when we talked, the reality was much more human. He described auditioning, waiting months, assuming he didn’t get it, then suddenly being pulled back in after filming had already started. He talked about strikes, travel, tutors on set, six months of on-and-off school, and trying not to get flagged for truancy.

Not exactly a neat Hollywood fairytale. More like a 16-year-old figuring it out in real time.

When I asked who inspires him, he didn’t name a big star. He said the acting itself keeps him going — “just the feeling of being in it.” And then he said something that stopped me: People overestimate my competence. I’m just getting good at looking like I know what I’m doing.

It’s funny, because that’s kind of what Welcome to Derry is about too. On the surface, it’s a town that looks normal. Underneath, it’s full of things people don’t want to face. Fear, denial, secrets, shame — all the things we pretend we’ve outgrown, hoping no one notices how scared we actually are. 

That’s what I loved about Miles. He’s standing in the middle of a massive horror franchise, with millions of people watching, and he’s honest enough to admit: I don’t always feel as capable as I look.

Maybe that’s the real invitation of stories like Welcome to Derry. Not just to be scared by clowns and shadows, but to ask: What fear am I hiding behind the impression that I’ve got it all under control?

Because courage isn’t pretending you’re not afraid, it’s stepping into the scene anyway — script in hand, heart pounding, fully aware that the world might be overestimating you, and choosing to grow into that expectation instead of running from it.