Lockwood

Yes.

Early in the book, the sophisticated, out-of-his-depth tenant, Mr. Lockwood, actually defines the word wuthering for the reader.

It's a harsh provincial adjective describing the intense atmospheric tumult to which the farmhouse is exposed in stormy weather.

The title of the book isn't just an address.

"Mr.

Lockwood, your new tenant, sir.

I do myself the honor of calling as soon as possible after my arrival to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange.

I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts-" "Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir," he interrupted, wincing.

Even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathizing movement to the words, and I think that circumstance determined me to accept the invitation.

I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.

When he saw my horse's breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put out his hand to unchain it, and then sullenly preceded me up the causeway, calling as we entered the court, "Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse and bring up some wine." Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose, was the reflection suggested by this compound order.

No wonder the grass grows up between the flags and cattle are the only hedge cutters.

It is going straight to digital and on demand October 16th.

The official synopsis is Mr. Lockwood arrives at the remote and storm-battered Wuthering Heights, unaware that Catherine's vengeful ghost walks its halls.

Her obsessed lover Heathcliff feeds her bloodlust with human sacrifice, hoping to give her soul a new body to inhabit.

As Lockwood grows sick and delusional, he is drawn deeper into their deeply undying love and must escape before he becomes their next victim.

So we're going to have human sacrifices.

I think an adaptation of Wuthering Heights as a horror story works.