Welcome to Red Creek.

"This is supposed to be Spring in the country!" Candice groaned silently, as the ribbon of dull grey asphalt road ahead seemed endless. Her sister, Montana, asked again, "Are we nearly there yet?"

Their tired father did sigh, and said one more time, "I think it's only another hour before we reach the township of Dusty Hollow."

Their mother was gazing straight forward, muttering, "We can see why it's called Dusty Hollow."

Around them, the fields were red and bare, no crops and very few trees, only straggles of dry yellow spiky clumps of grass here and there. There were a few skinny cattle, but not much scenery. Candice asked, "Does it ever rain here?"

'There's a drought on, kids. All we can do is hope and pray for rain. This is a fresh start, we are all in this together," her father replied, 'At least we'll have a house to live in. Won't take us long to unpack. What do you call a car that eats too much?"

Candice and Montana tried not to answer yet another of their Dad's weak jokes.

"I don't know," Candice finally answered,

"A snack mobile!"

Candice and her sister tried not to smile, as they looked at the back seat, littered with wrappers and drink containers. It had been a very long road trip. Their father was determined to be cheerful. He smiled in the rear vision mirror at Candice, who gave him the thumbs up.

Times had been tough for her family recently. Her parents' once bustling fish and chip shop had gone broke. It was because of the failing economy. Living in their suburb had become too expensive. Their whole family had cut down on things they used to buy or spend money on. Finally, their folks had decided to sell their home, get rid of the house mortgage and monthly bills. So they drove off west. There, Candice's parents had bought into a farming co-operative. Their share meant a four bedroom house to live in, plus some land to grow food for themselves, and to make money as well.

Montana wriggled in her seat, but kept her lip zipped. After some more time, there appeared a sign, "Welcome to Dusty Hollow, home of Red Creek." Underneath was on arrow, atop a poster saying, "Broken Lake, fishing for all."

Candice's father slowed down to the small town's speed limits, commenting, " I think there's a pony club here. You two gals can learn how to ride, might even be stars."

Montana looked thrilled by this idea, but Candice whispered, "Fat chance." She was dreading starting a new school. She had to leave behind her best friend, Georgia. Way off west here, she would be in her last year of primary school. Then she would have to take a bus to reach Secondary college. Next year, some when.

Her Dad drove slowly down Main Street, as his female family looked at old grey, boarded up shops, with many "Closed" signs. There was a hotel there, called, "Cowboy Spur Tavern." By now it was nearly 3 pm. The Main Street seemed to be empty of any other people, no one was walking up and down. There was only one large reddish furred dog, his tail drooping, as he strolled along. The dog looked at their passing car, and did not even bark. The tarmac road left behind this decrepit, ancient group of closed businesses. Soon the gravel

was the only road surface, crunching under the car wheels, trailing a cloud of ochre red dust.

Her father joked again, "I'm stuck in all this traffic jam!"

Candice was too horrified by this so-called Spring scenery to comment.

The road meandered to a bridge, and there was another sign. "Welcome to Red Creek."

As the car slowed down even more, dodging pot holes and deep ruts, all Candice could see was a river bed of red clay, cracked and baking in the shimmering hot sunshine. Their new home was in Hick Street, which was the first turn past the bridge.

"Seven Hick Street is our new address. Finally!" her father said, as they all gawped at this old run down house.

Her Dad asked, "What do you think, Candice?

Her mother spoke up in slight horror, "You've ruined us, Paddy Flanagan. Ruined, we're ruined. This house must be at least 150 years old. It's a wonder it's still standing."

"Built to last, like our family. Only needs a touch of paint, scrub some surfaces. Let's find the kettle, and sit down for a spell. Long drive, let's stretch our legs, then we can unpack later and tomorrow." Their father was always sounding positive.

Candice crossed her arms in front of herself. No one was smiling now. Around the faded timber home was a wraparound porch, might be nice to sit there in the evening. But as they all approached the front door, the vine leaves rambling over the verandah rustled as if there was a creepy breeze flowing. But the air was still, and Montana shivered. Candice's foot nearly got caught in a a rotting floorboard, as her Dad wrestled with the jammed front door.

Inside, this family found the day room, where a large, overstuffed couch was covered in shades of emerald mildew. Her mother said, "Yuk. These cobwebs are sticky. Look out for spiders, girls. Come with me, Montana, we'll have a cup of coffee and a cool drink before we bring in some of the boxes. This must be the kitchen," she said, opening another stiff.

"It's too old, Dad!" Candice told her father, who was messing around with a very old-fashioned power board. "Are there any ghosts here?" she asked.

"Shhh. Don't let Montana hear you. Ghosts do not exist, it's only a well-loved home, that's all."

Candice felt very doubtful, this place was the pits. The whole town of Dusty Hollow was the pits. She could only feel very afraid about what the primary school would be like. Their father had blackmailed them to move here for the benefits of fresh air, a pony club that might have only dead horses, a creek with no water, and a home which should be called SpiderVilla. Candice pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans, and tried to text her first impressions of Red Creek and Dusty Hollow to Georgia.

"Great! There's no signal on my phone!" she whined, then she moaned, "Dad, send me to boarding school, anywhere. You're welcome to Red Creek!" Her father was getting ready to tell her more Dad jokes. Who knows what would happen at Seven Hick Street? A tale waiting to be told......