The Lord

Vic finds a room to rent in a metal band’s decrepit Brunswick share house. Her relief at finding shelter during a housing crisis, however, crumbles away faster than the lead paint peeling off the walls. The house, which doesn’t seem to show up on maps, features a shower that either burns or freezes, a ceiling with holes that have holes of their own, strange plant life that spills forth from every crack in the walls – and Terry, a housemate who seems aggressively unbothered by any of it. All of this would be fine with Vic if it weren’t for two problems: her sleep deprivation from being woken by a horrible, foundation-shaking screaming noise from behind a mysterious locked door; and her unshakeable impression that something inside the house is getting very hungry.

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