The Four Seasons Project

By Sean Q Lee

The Four Seasons Project brings together 50 short stories and poems from 34 prize-winning writers. Each piece is based on one of the four seasons - summer, autumn, winter or spring. Whether you are a sun lover or a snow bunny, there is something here for you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sean Q Lee
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005098780

Sean Q Lee

Sean Lee is the editor of Short Stories Unlimited, a webpage dedicated to encouraging creative writing through short story and poetry competitions.He has spent many years writing about Australian Rules football and pro-cycling, providing colour pieces and expert opinion to various websites and publications including Conquista cycling magazine and Australian sports website ‘The Roar’.In 2011 he won the Stringybark Australian History Short Story Award for his depiction of the indigenous Australian game of Marngrook.

Book preview

The Four Seasons Project

a collection of short stories and poems

Edited by Sean Q Lee

Published by Short Stories Unlimited

http://www.shortstoriesunlimited.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright: This collection, Sean Q Lee, 2022

Copyright of individual stories and poems remains with the authors

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 these authors.

Proudly compiled on the lands of the Wadawurrung people

In memory of William Bean

William ‘Bill’ Bean was one of the first people to ever submit a story to us. He embraced our competitions like no other. Bill’s latest entry would appear in our inbox as soon as each new competition opened. The man loved to write. After submitting yet another highly commended piece to our winter short story competition, we were saddened to learn that Bill had passed away. He was 80 years old. Four of Bill’s stories appear in this anthology, the last of which was kindly forwarded to us posthumously by Bill’s wife, Joan. We dedicate this book to Bill’s memory. RIP William Bean.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

Pre-Season

The Seasons that Call Us by Ibtisam Shahbaz

Summer

Last Summer at Five Pines by Lisa Cortez

I Hate Summer by To Eskdale

Girl in Yellow by Anne Cleary

At the Dermatologist by Janeen Samuel

Ouroboros by Jospehine Sarvaas

Figures on Canvas (Summer) by William Bean

You Know, Cherries by Alida Galati

Gold by Karen Louise

Scrambled not Fried by Deborah Henley

Cheap Trick on a Summer Night by Gina Dawson

Once Upon a Road Trip by Elizabeth g. Arthur

On the Cusp in Summer by J. Marahuyo

Autumn

Autumn in the Orchard by Stephen Smithyman

An Aunt in the Country by Janeen Samuel

His Autumn Years by Sandra James

Dream Catcher by Alice Richardson

Figures on Canvas (Autumn) by William Bean

All the Best Paths by Beverley Lello

The Turning of the Leaves by Kirily McKellor

When Autumn Turns to Fall by Monique Hutchinson

Autumn in Canberra by Beverley Lello

Falling by Jay Creighton

Remembering Autumn by Karen Payne

Autumn Blue by Jay Creighton

Winter

Losing Sight of Christmas by Alan Bryant

The Old Black Kettle by Beverley Lello

Schoolyard in August by Monique Hutchinson

White by Peter Lingard

Alternate World by Georgie Waters

Misery is Tepid Coffee by Kirily McKellor

No Christmas by Jan Mosler

Figures on Canvas (Winter) by William Bean

Flu 2022 by J. Marahuyo

Cruellest Winter by Alice Richardson

Mountainside by Deborah Huff-Horwood

Haiku Winter Sequence by Agi Dobson

Spring

Sakura by Paris Rosemont

Spring Cleans by Jonny B

Nesting by Beverley Lello

A Fandom of Flowers by Margaret Owen Ruckert

Cerelia by Carole Kelly

It’s all in the Mind by Georgie Waters

Springtime, Roses & Cherry Blossoms by Monique Hutchinson

Spring Gifts by Jonny B

Bud by Leonie Kelleher

Alone by Peter Lingard

Figures on Canvas (Spring) by William Bean

Visions of a Butterfly Garden by Daniel Moreschi

Post Season

The Weatherman by Sev Romero

About our writers

2023 writing opportunities

Introduction

The idea for this book had been kicking around for a while. It just took a few years to congeal. Our initial aim was to provide opportunities for writers – new and experienced – to not only indulge in their craft, but to be rewarded for their efforts. Publication and payment were a must. But how to achieve this on a limited (read non-existent) budget?

The publication problem was easy to solve – collect all the stories and poems together in an ebook! Ebooks are relatively easy to create and dirt cheap to produce. To be able to pay our writers required more thought. In the end we ran a series of writing competitions, with the entry fees funding the prize money pool. We managed to cover our costs...mostly!

But rather than just run one-off competitions, we wanted to engage our writers over a longer period. We wanted to motivate them to keep writing throughout the entire year. And so, The Four Seasons Project was born; a series of linked short story and poetry competitions based on each of the four seasons – summer, autumn, winter and spring.

Writers were free to enter as many competitions as they wished. Some entered just the one, while others submitted multiple entries across multiple competitions. We were overwhelmed by the support shown to us by the writing community. Nearly 200 writers and poets submitted around 400 pieces for us to consider. This book showcases 50 of the best. Enjoy.

Sean Lee (Editor)

www.shortstoriesunlimited.com

Want something to listen to while reading through the anthology? Search for ‘The Four Seasons Project’ playlist on Spotify or click here.

PRE-SEASON

-

The Seasons That Call Us

by Ibtisam Shahbaz

Summer is the chiselled force of a man

Who melted into a smile in front of me

The warmth of his love brightened the room

His purpose louder than the echoes of his ambition

And yet when he glanced in my eyes, I saw the boy freeze underneath

All these years later, and a single glance is what makes him blush?

Winter crept above before I even noticed

Felt the sharpness of a chill before the words could be formed

An icy breeze transformed into a caress of electricity in my spine

Half my body became blue when I turned around to see

An almost skeleton peering back

But there was a depth to her

I couldn’t resist

Onyx eyes and locks softer than the finest chiffon

Winter and her cold, a presence almost needed

Here I am, a mortal stuck in the war of gods

A dance between summer and winter

Their opposing loves call to me

One feels like warmth

One, a hollowness in my heart

But why do I yearn for both?

The passion so parallel, sometimes I wonder if underneath these earthy materials

They too are beings of the one rhythm

Yet a bid adieu to my host for the season

Perhaps a mortal is what is needed

One who does not taste like the fire of the sun or the chill of ice

But one who is spring

Cherry blossoming with love

Calling to me

His autumn girl

A crisp of certainty rests on the earthy tones of the forest

Bronze leaves crunch under the weight of our love

His fruit of knowledge tastes so sweet

Almost as sweet as the marigolds interlocking in my hands

Birds hum when we walk past

I know we will live forever

Me and my man of spring

SUMMER

-

Last Summer at Five Pines

by Lisa Cortez

"We lay on our backs and a slight breeze touched the skin on my face and arms. I let my fingers sink into the cool sand and my eyes widened at the sparkling panorama in front of me."

For seven years we spent our summer holidays at Five Pines. Back then there were no high-rise buildings, no amusement park, surf shops, ice-cream kiosks or fancy ‘al fresco’ cafes. It was just a sleepy beach side village; a peaceful place to retire or spend a quiet holiday. Our family first went there at the beginning 1947—the war was over, and people were holidaying once more. I was five years old on our first visit to Five Pines, and although I don't remember that one, I vividly remember the last, in 1953.

I didn't realise it then, but we were considerably well off. Father was a bank manager, and we employed a cook and a couple of maids, who came and went so frequently, that now I can hardly recall their names. Mattie was one I will never forget however, for she was the maid who accompanied us on our last holiday to Five Pines.

We always booked two rooms on the first floor of the Five Pines Hotel. It had once been a massive two-story residence built on the esplanade at the turn of the last century. My parents had a spacious double bedroom with a balcony overlooking the sea, and I shared a smaller room with our maid. The best rooms were at the front of the hotel. At the back where Mattie and I slept were a maze of smaller cheaper rooms and a steep staircase leading up to the attic storage area.

Mrs Fitzgerald was the proprietor, and we came to know her well. She was a tall thin woman, always dressed in black, whose face was so angular that even when smiling, she looked irritated. She would make it quite clear that she only tolerated well-behaved children in her hotel.

Over the years, we also got to know the regular guests. The permanent residents were Miss Rose, Mr and Mrs Taylor and Mr Van der Brink. They made a strange foursome. The Taylors were a handsome couple in their early forties. Mr Taylor’s right leg had been mangled by shrapnel during the war and he walked with a limp. The couple had moved to the seaside, hoping to escape the unpleasant memories of the war. Unfortunately for them, Mr Van der Brink, a retired clockmaker from Holland never stopped talking about it. He had arrived in Australia from a war-torn Europe in 1945 and could tell many exciting stories about that time. He had decided to settle in Five Pines because, he explained, ‘a man could find a soulmate among the stars and the sea here.’ Mr Taylor tried to avoid the Dutchman and only tolerated him when he was needed to make up a foursome for their bridge parties.

Miss Rose, the last of the quartet was a softly spoken and kindly widow. She would have been in her seventies when first we came to Five Pines. I recall her being an elderly woman, dressed in smocked tops with frilled sleeves and lace collars. Mother always said she spoke perfect English and had once been a lady-in-waiting to one of Queen Victoria's daughters.

There were other guests who, like us, came for the summer only. Some of them I remember because we saw them every year, but little Elisabeth Glastonbury and her mother only came that once, as far as I know. Father didn’t accompany us this particular year. He had to stay home because of business, but Mother insisted on going anyway. I found out years later that she was recuperating from a miscarriage. Once there, she hardly left her room, and I was obliged to spend my time playing with Elisabeth.

Elisabeth was six years old and of no interest to me. I found her a spoilt and unattractive little brat. I was told to be kind to her and to include her in my games as her father had recently died. I tried showing her my games, but despite being four years younger than I, she was extremely bossy and given to tantrums if she did not get her way.

To humour her, I would play her favourite game, Kings and Queens. 1952 was the year of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, and the game was always played the same way. Miss Glastonbury would dress up as her namesake and I, playing her attendant, would have to crown her. How I loathed those pretences. I would have much preferred playing chasey in the large garden behind the hotel. Mr Van der Brink was the only adult who recognised how unhappy I was; the other adults all laughed and were delighted that Elisabeth had a playmate. Mr Van, as I came to call him, would take me aside and sympathise: It's too bad. You should be out running in the sand hills, swimming, fishing, finding crabs. Not stuck inside playing with that silly girl.

I liked Mr Van. He was funny and told stories that made me laugh. He wore tiny round glasses and could see very little without them. Each time we visited Five Pines, Mr Van, a keen amateur astronomer, taught me the wonders of the evening sky. With my mother's permission, he would take me onto the balcony of his room on fine evenings to peer through his telescope. These were the best times, especially during that last summer. Free from Elisabeth's whining voice and the responsibility of being on my best behaviour, I would spend a carefree hour examining the craters of the moon, or the clouds of Magellan.

I liked our maid Mattie, too. She had only been with us a short while and was delighted to be on holidays. Being an outdoors girl, her body glowed with a healthy tan. She was in her early twenties, slim build, and with the most magnificent breasts. I remember them well because lately I had become obsessed with those womanly features. It was not sexual preoccupation; I certainly did not want to touch or fondle them. I simply could not take my eyes off the shape they made under the thin cotton dresses that Mattie often wore. This was in a time before pointy bras became fashionable. It intrigued me the way her breasts moved with a life of their own; surging and swaying, out of sync with the rest of the body. Needless to say, I wasn't Mattie's only admirer. Wherever she went, men, young and old appeared from nowhere and gravitated towards her.

Tell us your name, girlie, they would say, or How about meeting us down at the local? or even, Give us a kiss!

You see Al, she told me. I can have my pick of any man. But a girl can't be too careful. I've got to consider my future.

Why, what’s going to happen to you? I was still intrigued by death and war.

I won't be looking after you for the rest of my life. I'm going to get married and live in a grand house and have servants of my own. And I believed her for she was too beautiful to remain a mere servant.

Mattie often wore a certain soft pink dress with buttons up the bodice. She left most of the buttons undone to reveal the beginnings of her gloriously rounded breasts. If she caught me looking at them, she would tease me.

Do you think it suits me, Albert? She twirled around, lifting her skirts.

What? What?

The dress, dear Albert, the dress.

One morning nearing the end of the holidays, Elisabeth and I were once again playing Kings and Queens in the upstairs children's lounge. Glancing out the window, she saw a litter of kittens cavorting in the vegetable gardens. These turned out to belong to a stray cat which had lived on the property for years. Excitedly, she ran into the garden and brought one of the kittens inside. Her mother shrieked and Mrs Fitzgerald’s face became so angular I thought it would splinter.

'Stray cats have all sorts of diseases. I forbid you to go anywhere near them,' Mrs Glastonbury said as the landlady took the kitten away. Elisabeth threw a tantrum, demanding that she keep one as a pet. Her mother was adamant, and as punishment Elisabeth was sent to her room.

I was thrilled to be free of the brat and begged my mother for permission to spend the day at the beach with Mattie. Mrs Fitzgerald organised a picnic basket, and Mother told me to behave myself, do as I was told, not to swim too far and to stay out of the sun. I promised.

As we left the hotel, the heat of the day hit us. The sea was a sage green, and the hot sun embraced the water, shattering it into a million sparkling mirrors. We pulled off our shoes and walked along the flat beach, paddling our feet in and out of the surf. We moved south along the coast away from the buildings. We soon came to the sand dunes where we discovered a small estuary meandering through the sand towards the ocean. Mattie decided this would be a good spot for swimming since the water was warm, shallow and free of seaweed.

The walk had made us hungry and we gobbled down the sandwiches. We then lay under the partial shade of a coastal sheoak and dozed. When I woke, feeling hot and sticky, Mattie was stepping out of her dress. She stood up in a one-piece bathing costume and called out to me.

Come on don't be shy. Take off your clothes and let's go!

I turned around and slowly removed my shorts and shirt leaving them in a tidy heap on the sand. Mattie, impatient, had already waded in and was lying on her back in the shallow water. I followed and squatted down beside her.

Mmm...isn't this simply delicious? she said letting her head loll back into the water. Her long hair fanned out and I thought she looked like a mermaid.

Tell me Albert, what would you wish for, if you could have anything in the world?

I shrugged my shoulders. What would you wish for?

To be rich….to marry a wealthy man.

You're pretty enough, I blurted out.

You think so?

Yes.

Do you think people might consider me beautiful?

Oh yes.

"Thanks Al, you're sweet. Now how about