The Hound

In the oppressive heat of a late spring day, Nat finds herself trapped in a sweltering van, the silence thick with unspoken tensions. Her new life with Liz, a whirlwind of antique hunting and storage auctions, feels miles away from the carefree existence she once knew. But when a routine stop at a storage facility takes a bizarre turn, Nat is plunged into a chilling mystery that blurs the lines between life and death, forcing her to confront a truth far more unsettling than any dusty antique.

The late-spring morning offered no relief from the oppressive heat, the sun already a blazing orb overhead, its light fractured by hanging dust. Inside the stifling van, Natasha Loman shifted, the damp jeans clinging uncomfortably to her skin. The broken air conditioner exhaled only hot air, mirroring the tension that simmered between her and Liz.

"Honey, you're dripping," Liz said from the driver's seat, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror where Liam sat, a melting grape popsicle clutched in his hand. He was hidden beneath an oversized baseball cap, only his scowling mouth visible.

"I don't want it," Liam mumbled, purple syrup already threatening to stain the seat. The van jolted to a stop behind a battered pickup, its tow hitch adorned with a pair of absurd gag testicles. Nat braced herself reflexively.

"I'm watching the road," Liz snapped, her voice trembling. The tension was a plucked string, threatening to snap.

Nat sighed. Liam wasn't supposed to be here today. As Liz accelerated too harshly, a sign for "Al's U Store It" loomed ahead. At least the first task of this long, hot day was done.

The Hound

Psychological Taxidermy domestic drama unsettling Southern Gothic