The Lighthouse

By David Vernon

"We are going to see a movie in Bankstown – movies are great. All that darkness and silence. I like to sit at the back with my date and focus on each centimetre of space that closes between us in delicate little increments. I like to place my arm just near enough his to feel the warmth of him. I could close my eyes and draw the space between our knees, our shoulders, our pinkie fingers. The anticipation is wonderful. In that moment before we are something, we could be anything."

— from In the 'Moments Before and After' by Katie Bowers.

"Sylvia can still taste the menthol from his breath last night. She recalls how it burnt her lips when he kissed her. Now, she strains to hear his footsteps downstairs, clutching an all too small towel around her shivering body, trapped in her tiny bathroom. It was a foolish idea to think the shower would wash him away."

— from 'Suddenly Loud' by Liselle Mei

"It’s all butterflies and carnations until you wake up to an unwanted armpit in your face. I probably could come around to the idea (his musk is something I occasionally get on board with) but the jet-black forest is tickling my face and all I want to do is sleep. I roll over in hope of returning to less complicated dreams."

— from 'My Catch by Gavin' Douglas

"Sex and gender shape relationships, power, inequality and so much else in our culture. They are ubiquitous, treacherous and delightful; fascinating, complicated and vexed."
— Dr Hannah Holland

Thirty-two award-winning stories in this intriguing and thought-provoking short story anthology explore the many facets of sex and gender. From sexual violence to questions of gender identity these stories from Australian and international authors challenge our perception of who we are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Vernon
• Release date: Oct 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005115234

David Vernon

I am a freelance writer and editor. I am father of two boys. For the last few years I have focussed my writing interest on chronicling women and men’s experience of childbirth and promoting better support for pregnant women and their partners. Recently, for a change of pace, I am writing two Australian history books. In 2014 I was elected Chair of the ACT Writers Centre.In 2010 I established the Stringybark Short Story Awards to promote the short story as a literary form.

Book preview

The Lighthouse — thirty-two award-winning stories from the Stringybark Sex and Gender Short Award

Edited by

David Vernon

Selected by Abra Pressler, Clare McHugh, Dr Hannah Holland and David Vernon

Published by Stringybark Publishing

PO Box 464, Hall, ACT 2618, Australia

https://www.stringybarkstories.net

http://www.stringybarkpublishing.com.au

Smashwords Edition

Copyright: This collection, David Vernon, 2021

Copyright: Individual stories, the authors, various.

These stories are works of fiction and do not relate to anyone living or dead unless otherwise indicated.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the editor, judges and the authors of these stories.

Contents

Introduction

Wearing the Cost— Richard Baker

Playing with Pride — Aldo Longobardi

Fireworks — Rod Flanagan

There are Always Cons — Kristen Roberts

Add to Dictionary — Courtney Louise

Alabama Song (Whisky Bar) — Emily Seerup

Down Under— Maria Bonar

The Fairy Seamstress — Louise Thorne

In the Moments Before and After— Katie Bowers

Speaking of Dragons — Courtney Louise

Natasha — Deryn Pittar

Snowballing — Dan McLeod

My Name is Edith —Leonie Huggins

Moment of Truth — Leonie Crowden

A Man's World — Nicole Kelly

Grace of God — Anne Tavares

The Walk — Terence Phillips

Colder than Home — Hayley Young

Bright Future — Anne Tavares

Climbing Out — Nakita Kitson

You've Got a Friend — G. Laura Sheridan

Exhibit — Amy Wang

The Angler — Alex Talbot

A Brief Shining Moment — Colin Mayo

Bunny is Dead — Rod Flanagan

Opening Day — Deanne Seigle-Buyat

Suddenly Loud — Liselle Mei

Molly and the Cowgirl, 2010 — Sinclair Buckstaff Jr.

My Catch — Gavin Douglas

The Lighthouse —Mallory Miles

Whitehall Guesthouse — Danielle Scrimshaw

Cat Lady/Dog Man — Shona Levingston

The Stringybark Sex and Gender Short Story Award 2021

About the Judges

Judges’ Report

Acknowledgements

Other titles by David Vernon at Smashwords.com:

Introduction

— David Vernon

2021 was a tough year in Australia. 2020 had seen record bushfires ravaging the country, followed promptly by the arrival of Covid on our shores. Lockdowns ensued and in early 2021 we saw a plethora of appalling allegations being made against our politicians, both at Federal and State level about their misogynistic behaviour. Yes, it was all male politicians or their flunkies who were implicated in activities ranging from rape and sexual violence to juvenile stupidity such as masturbating on desks in Parliament House.

A mere three years earlier, Australia had suffered the trauma of the same-sex marriage plebiscite, forced upon us by a Prime Minister whose personal religious beliefs caused an unnecessary and divisive debate among Australians. The plebiscite was won by those who believe all people have equal rights by a solid majority of Australians — 62%. In the ACT, 74% supported gay marriage. This was a debate Australia did not need to have and yet our Government forced it upon us in the hope of restricting the rights of certain people based merely on their sex or gender.

I chose to run the Stringybark Sex and Gender Awards as I wanted to both raise awareness of the glorious diversity of humans and provide an outlet for people to explore this diversity. The over-arching requirement of the competition theme was that the reader was to be left feeling with a sense of optimism for the future. I was not after rainbows and unicorns but a general sense that we as humans can and will do better. Some of the stories you will read here will leave you inspired while others through identifying deep-seated gender and sex discrimination will open your eyes to the problems.

This was a difficult competition to judge. So many stories received were deeply personal but didn’t quite meet the competition theme, or not quite have the quality expected by Stringybark Stories. That fact that these entries did not make this anthology casts no aspersions on the bravery of the writer. I thank every entrant for entering this difficult and emotional competition and hope that through writing they gained a little more peace and perspective.

This is our thirty-ninth anthology since 2010 and it’s a ripper read. Enjoy!

David Vernon

Judge and Editor

Stringybark Stories

On behalf of the other three judges, Abra Pressler, Clare McHugh and Dr Hannah Holland.

Wearing the Cost

— Richard Baker

I’m not going to wear it, I said. Defiance burned brightly in my eyes. I stood in the kitchen, arms folded, wearing nothing but my pink unicorn undies.

But Shanthi, it’s so pretty, Mum pleaded, holding up the dress. Can’t you wear it? Just this once?

Is Mithrin going to wear a dress?

Ha! Appa said from the stove, flipping a dosa before turning to face us, Boys don’t wear dresses, he said, pointing at me with the spatula.

Why not?

Well, he said, turning his attention back to flipping dosa, it’s quite difficult to explain.

Well, it’s a good job I’m a big girl then, isn’t it? I said, unfolding my arms and pressing my fists into my hips. Appa looked at Mum and shrugged.

Your brother doesn’t want to wear a dress, Mum offered.

"I don’t want to wear a dress, I said. How is that different?

Mum draped the dress over the back of a chair and sat down, taking my hands in hers. She looked straight into my eyes and smiled, making the skin at the edge of her eyes wrinkle. My frustration eased. Your Uncle Richard sent you the dress as a present, she said. He’s visiting today, I’m sure he’d love to see you wearing it.

Why did he buy me something I don’t really want?

Mum took a deep breath and pressed her fingers into the sides of her head. Appa sat on the chair beside her, looked me in the eye and tried to take my hands.

Why is everyone telling me what to do? I snarled, snatching my hands away and turning my back on them. Nobody’s listening to what I want.

I’ve had quite enough of your attitude, young lady, said Mum. "Huff all you like, but you will be wearing that dress when your Uncle Richard arrives."

I felt a familiar sting pressing the backs of my eyes. Snatching the dress from the chair, I hauled it over my head and slammed the screen door as I stomped through the garden to the stringybark that watched over the house.

Crumpling the discarded bark beneath my bare feet usually had a sweet and joyful flavour, but my ugly desire to destroy something beautiful soured the taste. I leaped and caught the lowest branch, swung my legs up and felt the cool, newly exposed wood between my thighs as I wrapped them around the thick, smooth limb. Trusting my legs to hold me, I let myself fall back to hang upside down. The dress ruffled down to my armpits and covered my face, revealing my pink unicorn undies. Visions of Mum and Appa’s disapproving looks poisoned the experience. Growling, I swung, looped, and launched my way up and up and up until I made it to the best sitting branch.

I faced away from our stupid house with Stupid Mum and Stupid Appa inside. Beyond the thin, pointed leaves I could see the mountains we visit when people come from out of town, blanketed by their famous spooky blue haze. I love those trips to the mountains, even if Stupid Uncle Richard comes along. He always says I think I’m a boy, which is silly because I don’t.

I shook my head, imagining those thoughts peeling off the outside of my brain like bark, and falling to the ground for me to stomp on. I wrapped my arms around the trunk and pressed my cheek against her. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths, giggling softly to myself as a ripper of a fart escaped my relaxing body.

Crikey, Shanthi, what have you been eating?

Far out, Brussel sprout, I cried, looking up to find Mithrin a few branches above me. Good job I already farted, or that could have been a whole lot worse. My brother lowered himself to sit on the branch beside me, performing exaggerated fanning gestures in front of his face. Then he leant away from me, directing a ripper of his own my way. I coughed and laughed and spluttered all at once, splatting my hand with snot. I wiped it on my dress, which brought a shadow of a smile.

Hey, Mithi began, why don’t you want to wear the dress? He held up his hands defensively as I threatened to push him off his perch. I’m not on their side. I’m just trying to work out what you don’t like about it?

"Do you want to wear a dress?" I asked him, taking a deep breath to try to stay calm. I resented the fact that I was being made to wear a dress while he wasn’t, but my fight wasn’t with my brother.

Boys don’t usually wear dresses, he shrugged, I think it would feel weird.

It doesn’t really feel weird to me, I admitted, I don’t really hate dresses, but I’ve realised that dresses and skirts come with a set of rules that trousers and shorts don’t. Mithrin threw me a doubtful look.

Just at that point Mum called through the garden, Come down you pair of monkeys, just enough time for dosa before Uncle Richard arrives. I rolled my eyes, guessing from her cheeriness she thought she’d won.

Don’t believe me? I said to Mithi, Watch!

We channelled our inner monkeys as we swung down, racing from branch to branch. When we reached the lowest branch, we did as we always do; wrapped our legs around it and hung upside down. Once more, my dress dropped down as I dangled there. We laughed and scratched our armpits, grunting Oo-oo-oo.

Shanthi! Mum hissed, what have I told you about keeping your underwear covered?

See! I whispered to Mithrin before we flipped onto our feet and sat on the outdoor bench. Mithrin folded one leg up, resting his foot near his bottom while wrapping one arm around his knee. Mum smiled at him, handing him a plate of dosa. I mirrored his posture, causing my dress to scrunch up to my hip, exposing my undies again.

Shanthi! Mum exclaimed, pointing with a plate of dosa. I took the plate and shrugged as if I didn’t know what she meant. If Mithrin was going to understand, I needed the whole pantomime to play out.

Put. Your. Leg. Down, she said through clenched teeth.

Mithrin has his leg up! I said, quite matter-of-factly, pointedly keeping my leg up.

People cannot see Mithrin’s undies! she said, as if this cleared everything up.

What people? I laughed, looking around the garden with exaggerated drama. I knew defiance was going to get me into trouble, but I’ve learned that compliance also comes at a price.

You’re the only one that can see, Mum, Mithrin piped up. From this angle I can’t actually see them. When I caught his eye and shot him a fleeting, grateful, smile, he shrugged as if it was obvious.

That’s not the point. People should not be able to see other people’s undies. We have spoken about this before!

"Then how can I sit? my simmering anger raised my voice. The stinging feeling pressed behind my eyes again and my vision blurred. If I was wearing trousers, I would be able to hang from the branch and sit how I wanted. I tossed my dosa plate onto the table. The frustration that had been bubbling was boiling over, forcing its way out like steam from a pressure cooker. Mithrin can dangle upside down because he can wear trousers. He gets to sit this way because he can wear trousers. He gets to wear trousers because he’s a boy. I can’t swing from trees or sit a certain way because you and Appa and stupid Uncle Richard tell me I must wear a stupid dress! All because I’m a girl. IT’S NOT FAIR." I screamed the last.

Mum covered her mouth with her hand and slumped back into the chair, tears welling. For once it seemed as if she didn’t really know what to say. We all just sat still for a moment, until Appa came out carrying more dosa. Shanthi, what’s all the screaming about? The neighbours will…

I don’t care what the stupid neighbours think, I cut him off. It’s not fair! Mithrin looked down at his hands.

I stood, yanked my dress over my head and threw it up into the tree. My throat and eyes stung as I stood in front of my parents, for the second time today, arms folded, wearing only my pink unicorn undies, glaring defiantly through my tears. Appa slumped down beside Mum, a mixture of shock and sadness painted their faces.

Mithrin sprung up, wrestled off his trousers and t-shirt, threw them into the tree near my dress, and stood beside me, arms folded, wearing only his blue racing car undies.

The doorbell rang.

Richard Baker is an aspiring author residing in The Hills District of Sydney with his young family. He attempts to balance writing with being a good husband to a wonderful, supportive wife, while together they try to raise two boys as feminists. Facilitating a writer’s group at his local library has helped Richard become part of a network of writers whose thoughtful and robust feedback enabled him to polish this story into a publishable piece. Richard has previously been published in the Stringybark anthologies A Tick Tock Heart (2014) and The Scientific Method (2019).

Playing With Pride

— Aldo Longobardi

Your eyes should’ve been on the bloody game, Richards, not looking out in the crowd! What the hell was so important out there, anyway?

The rest of the team file in and pass me, avoiding eye contact as they follow the trudge of the boots in front of them to the changerooms. A few give me that look that says a mashup of better luck next time, Richards, and