The cottage

A lone driver claws his way through a dust‑choked plain, his mind consumed by a simmering fury toward the children he blames for his own emptiness. Will Durkin’s hatred feels almost ritualistic, a raw edge sharpened by a hard‑won life of isolation, and his thoughts linger on a tiny, white cottage that seems to glow against the leaden sky. The house, a cheap doll‑house turned real, holds eight rooms and a golden weathercock, a silent stage for the twisted experiment he plans to impose on his step‑kids.

As the wind howls and a distant rumble hints at unseen forces, Durkin rolls into the yard where his wife watches from the kitchen doorway and his children play unaware. He sees the doll‑house as a tool to probe their thoughts, eager to unleash the punitive justice he believes they deserve. The atmosphere crackles with an uneasy mix of domestic dread and something far stranger stirring beneath the desert’s surface.