Cloudstreet Creative
Number One The large house loomed above the family, casting a dark shadow over them as the sun began to set behind it. Its exterior was cracking, the paint was peeling and in some places the red bricks were exposed. Number One Cloud Street was big and foreboding, like it was waiting for something bad to happen. The twins Arch and Flo stood behind their parents quietly, little toddler Shep on his mother’s hip, and Stack in the truck, refusing to get out. Its whispering, Stack said quietly. The house says go away. She stared at the white picket fence, dreading the very idea of going beyond the boundary line, as if shed never get out again. Esther and Bill glanced at each other before looking over their shoulders to look at their daughter. Oh dont be daft Stack, houses cant talk. Now all you stay here while I go up, aight?The young girl watched as Bill gazed up at the large house, swaying on his feet. He took his hat off his head and scrunched it nervously in his hands as if it were an old newspaper, and walked up the front steps of the house. He rapped his knuckles on the dark wood of the door before taking a step back, rocking on his heels impatiently. Everyone seemed to notice the large tree just out the front of the property, reminding them all painfully of the accident that had turned their lives around. The old oak tree in their backyard had been a home for the three kids growing up, always up in the boughs, having a laugh and daring each other to go higher. It wasnt until the day Arch had grabbed onto the same branch Stack was sitting on that someone got hurt.
We aint lookin to buy nothin! A voice called from inside as the door swung open, revealing a woman wearing a floral apron covered in white smears, some marking her face like an abstract painting. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring at Bill with narrow eyes. There was something about her that Stack couldnt quite figure out. She almost seemed hazy, like she didnt belong there. It was if the house was trying to wipe her away but she was a stain that just would not budge. G’day! Were the Reids. Still got rooms, yeah?The woman, Poppy Powers, eyed him suspiciously before turning to call over her shoulder. Michael? Michael! Some bloke’s ‘ere, asking ‘bout the rooms. Michael, come over ‘ere!The boxy woman stepped aside as her husband came up behind her, peering out at Bill and the rest of the Reid family. He looked at them skeptically, before his expression grew into a smile. He held out a ghostly hand. Stack wondered if Number One Cloud Street was their home or if they just simply lived there among the other hazy figures she could barely make out.