This is the first instalment of Clouds Behind the Moon by Olivia Hides
The creature was waiting for me. It was standing in the centre of the grassland. I could just make out its towering figure; its sickly smooth, white skin faded in the darkness of the night. In the shadows of surrounding bush, I struggled to keep silent.
The hairs on my body were raised, goosebumps freckling my skin. I could hear the crinkle of dead branches underfoot, the breeze against my arms, the shallow unevenness of my breath. A lump caught in my throat and each swallow only made it worse.
I was waiting for it to see me.
I was still watching the creature when it locked its white eyes on me. A clawed hand reached forward and pointed a delicate finger in my direction.
My mistake was assuming it was alone.
ONE WEEK EARLIER
I had no idea what time it was when the curlews woke me from my dream. I lay there, drenched in my own sweat and tangled in my sheet, forced to listen to the human-like screams outside my bedroom window. My heart rate sped up. I took a few breaths and closed my eyes. Bird cries, I thought. Only birds.
The light was breaking through my cotton fabric curtains, causing my boxed-filled room to be doused in powder blue. I reached for my phone and saw it was only 5:17am, but the sun was out and the heat was already reaching the corners of the room.
Unable to roll back to sleep, I wandered barefoot to the kitchen, craving my first cup of coffee for the day. My sister June was awake as usual, glasses on as she read from her laptop at the kitchen bench. She had her favourite cup in her hand – tea, most likely – and her right foot perched on her seat. Her long red hair was wrapped in a loose-fitting bun on top of her head. If I was in a better mood, I would have joked it looked like a bird’s nest.
The kettle was half-full and already warm, so I placed it back on the stovetop.
‘You’re up early, Val,’ June commented, eyes not leaving the screen.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ I said.
‘Too bloody hot.’
‘Something like that.’
‘Those birds are driving me crazy. If I wasn’t sleeping before, then I’m definitely not now.’
‘Clear Mountain – an insomniac’s dream,’ I said, laughing.
‘Cute.’ June smiled, looking over her reading glasses at me.
‘What time do you have work?’ I asked her. The kettle whistled.
‘Not till eight. What about you? First day jitters?’
I didn’t reply, just filled my mug with boiling water. The smell of coffee filled the air. I lifted the mug to my face for the scent. The steam caused sweat to collect on my brow.
‘I start at seven,’ I said. ‘Thought I’d ride my bike into town.’
‘At least it will be downhill. The ride home will be a bitch. Downside to living on a mountain.’
I was dreading my first day at Sam’s Stupendous Store. Sam was a founder of the island and had known our grandmother well, apparently. He’d offered me a position as sales assistant after word got around that I was handing out my resumé in town.
June and I moved to Clear Mountain Island after our grandmother died and left us her six-bedroom brick house. June originally planned to move out here on her own, after applying for the position of local veterinarian. At the last minute, I decided to join her; I was worried about her settling in the house, let alone leaving Australia, all on her own.
According to their website, 700 people inhabited the eerie, mountainous island. With shores hugged by the Pacific Ocean and too small for an airport, the only access to the man-made island is via a boat off the coast of New Zealand. After our mother died five years ago, our grandmother had sold her Melbourne two-storey townhouse to relocate, having fallen in love with the luxuriously marketed island lifestyle. Clear Mountain Island was the destination for those wanting the quiet retired lifestyle. Having created hundreds of jobs and given its residents an elite status, who could resist?
Our newly acquired property was encased by forest and bush, the other suspended against the edge of a cliff that ran down to meet the water. Every morning, I was met with the warble of wild birds and crows, and of course the cries of the curlews. Despite being encircled by wildlife, the area felt empty.
I got ready for the day, packing a bag and making my lunch, surprised by how fast the morning flew by. No doubt when I arrived at work, time would return to its slow, sluggish burn as I spent my day in the quiet shop.
I pulled at my brown hair – frizzy from the humidity – trying to put it in a ponytail. I felt a sinking in my chest down to my feet, the dread of opening the front door weighing on me. I had a sudden burst of panic: am I getting a bit agoraphobic?
‘You look worried, sis.’ I looked up and saw June leaning against my bedroom door. ‘When are you going to unpack these boxes?’
‘When I get to it, mum.’ I laughed and June joined me. It was easy to see why people loved June. She had an easy laugh – it sounded just like our mother’s. ‘And I’m not worried. I just don’t want people to start asking me questions about Gran or giving me their condolences. I just want to get through the day.’
‘I know you took her passing hard, Val, but people are going to say what they like.’ June moved into my room and started to fold a T-shirt I had thrown over the armchair that still smelt like our grandmother. ‘I’m sure there are many people who miss her. They’ll want to connect with you. Keep her spirit alive, that sort of thing.’
‘I get it. I’ll try not to offend anyone.’
‘Just be yourself,’ June said, smiling.
Clouds Behind the Moon is written by Olivia Hides and will be published serially throughout the year. Read part two.