That's Life! 30 Short Stories

By Brian Wilson

As the pages of life turn, we journey through the ever-changing seasons of the soul. Spring whispers of new beginnings, budding with the promise of growth and renewal. In summer's warmth, we bask in the fullness of our experiences, savouring moments of joy and abundance. Autumn arrives, painting our path with the colours of reflection and transition, as we gather the wisdom of the years gone by. And in the stillness of winter, we find solace in the quiet embrace of introspection, preparing for the cycle to begin anew.

Join us on a timeless and humorous exploration of life's seasons, where each turn of the page and each story reveals the beauty of growth, the richness of experience, and the timeless rhythm of the human spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Wilson
• Release date: Feb 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224637997

Book preview

That’s Life

The Seasons of Life

Spring

Summer

Autumn

Winter

You're only here for a short visit. Don't hurry. Don't worry. And be sure to smell the flowers along the way.

-Walter C. Hagen

Finally the dark clouds disperse and the sun smiles out from behind. A blue sky is revealed as a new season dawns, promising a brighter future and the opportunity to realise our ambitions. Spring has arrived bringing forth new beginnings; there is now light at the end of the tunnel. It seems that over the cold winter months everything had gone into hibernation.

Now, the refreshing smells of new life blossoms scent the air with happiness and expectancy. Birds once again happily chatter and bees hum as they diligently and meticulously gather pollen. Overhead, butterflies flutter as they emerge from their cocoons and add to the bright colours of spring. Perhaps now the storms of winter have all passed and life may move on towards a brighter and rewarding future, but then again, life can be so unpredictable and full of surprises―AUTHOR.

Wall of Water

Masaki wandered down the streets of Sendai, Japan. It was such a beautiful old Japanese city known as the city of trees because all around the city were trees and green spaces. Even the avenues were lined with trees. It was something different to most other Japanese cities he had visited. In many ways more like Australia. There was an air of tranquillity like a calm before the storm. Masaki being half Australian and half Japanese loved the city and part of him connected with the culture. This was a very old city dating back to about 1600 when a feudal ruler, Date Masamune, decided to make this his capital. Since then the city had grown to a population of over one million and had expanded from the flat coastal plains, over a hilly centre area to the bordering mountains inland, an area of 304 square miles. Masaki had visited the castle ruins called Green Leaves Castle and now followed the clear waters of the Hirose River through the town centre on its journey to the sea. Occasionally he would stop and peer down into the water to see if he could spot one of the large salmon.

It was 2.46pm on a Friday. Like most Japanese towns there were people everywhere and the roads were packed with traffic: cars, vans, motorcycles, trucks, buses, bicycles; it was a normal busy work day and business was as usual booming. Masaki had made his way some distance from the sky scrapers when the ground suddenly and violently shook. Earthquakes were common in Japan, but this one felt like the earth beneath him was going to give birth to a volcano. He followed the lead of the well- practiced Japanese citizens and took shelter against a wall that looked like holding its ground. In a crouching position he covered his head as protection against possible falling debris. The ordeal lasted a whole terrifying six minutes as Mother Nature showed her hand.

Tsunami, shouted a Japanese woman of about 25 as she quickly retraced her steps and made her way towards the higher part of town.

No worries, reassured a man shaking his head as he picked up his bicycle. We five or six mile from coast and have a large seawall if tsunami come. Everything OK.

It was true. When it came to earthquakes and tsunami, the Japanese were the most knowledgeable and the most prepared. Earthquakes were not uncommon for Sendai and other cities along the east cost of Honshu, but this was a Richter Scale 9 earthquake centred on the seabed only 80 miles east of Sendai. There had been tsunamis before. In a time of crises indecisiveness is mans’ worst enemy, but as an Australian he had no experience of earthquakes. Moving to higher ground seemed pragmatic, but was it just an over-reaction? Masaki knew that if a tsunami is expected then one in their right mind does not go down to the beach to watch it coming in. Yet he seemed to be caught as if in a nightmare where your brain tells you one thing yet you can’t stop your feet taking you in the opposite direction. He was only in Sendai for a day or just a few days; frankly he couldn’t remember how long as things had become a blur. Maybe it was shock after all it was his first earthquake and a massive one at that. Five or six miles from the coast, and a sea wall; well maybe a little more exploring should be safe. He looked at how others on the street were behaving. There were certainly more people heading back to town, but many continued about their business. The suggestion was that it was safe though deep down he knew it wasn’t.

Masaki, against his better judgment found himself continuing along his journey east. The buildings on the whole had stood up well to such a powerful earthquake, though having no knowledge of earthquakes he had no idea that normally aftershocks followed and it was often these that brought down already damaged buildings. Ahead he could see something. It was water running out of a street to the right which came from the direction of the Hirose River. Perhaps there had already been a small tsunami causing the river to overflow. People were now running from that direction towards him. Then he saw it maybe a kilometre away. It was a wall of water and it was coming straight down his street. He turned and ran but discovered that this wave of terror was closing in fast. Masaki knew that he needed to get to higher ground fast and spotted a tall tree. Having experienced floods in Brisbane he knew that trees tended to be resilient in such situations. He quickly climbed onto the branches and had gained at least two metres, when the water came. It was a dirty black cocktail of everything from branches, and building furnishings and debris to bodies of people and animals. He watched as people caught in the surge fought for their lives trying to grab any object that might save them from almost certain death. Further up the road he saw a car caught in the surge. It would soon be upon him. Maybe it would miss his tree, but what if it hit? He needed to be higher, but would his tree survive the impact of a car? He began to climb higher, but something was pushing against him.

Masaki

He heard his voice being called. It was Penny, his wife. Yes where was Penny? He had forgotten about Penny. Where had she been when he was exploring the castle ruins and town, and walking alongside the Hirose River?  He wouldn’t be in Sendai without his wife. Masaki suddenly became fearful that she might be caught in the surging waters. Maybe she was also up the tree.

Masaki. The voice came again. Now he felt a tugging. He looked up and there was Penny.

Masaki, wake up, we are here, the bullet train has arrived at Sendai.

The Vegie Co-op

Sam pulled his Mercedes station wagon up in front of the church. So this was where it all happened –the famous Friday vegie co-op.  It was a great idea buying the fruit and vegetable specials in bulk every week and breaking this up into consumer packages. He felt especially for the young families with student loans and mortgages to pay off; this would certainly help them to make ends meet. Ten dollars a week for fruit and vegetables was a big savings.

The new comer felt good as he strolled up to where a number of people had gathered. This was his chance to give something back to the community. His wife Sarah, wasn’t that supportive. She knew that whenever Sam got involved things tended to turn to custard; the man just couldn’t help himself. He was always looking for short-cuts. But then what could go wrong? After-all this was just a vegie co-op.

At the hall door an officious lady in her 60s was bossing people around.

Hurry up, there’s a queue behind you, she instructed Sam... and next time don’t cut across the lawn. That fence is there for a reason, she added.

I’m new here, so what am I expected to do? asked Sam.

First sign up against your group and you must wear a name tag, she added directing him towards a label and felt pen. These people who don’t wear name tags, she moaned. No, big enough so people can read it, she added in the same breath, before moving onto the next person who had braced themselves for a grilling of sorts. Sam had been warned about the teacher –appropriately named, as she still seemed to be under the illusion that she was in a classroom. Sam proceeded into the hall. Trestles had been set in an ‘L’ shape and behind them a number of women, currently chatting, had gathered ready to do the packing. It was all now just a case of waiting for the vegetables to be delivered before the production line could move into full swing.

The large truck finally arrived and the men, mostly of retirement age, set about unloading crates of lettuces and placing them beside the hall. An elderly man called Arthur was standing by the unloaded lettuces ticking each box off on a check sheet. Sam grabbed a sack barrow and joined those taking crate loads into the hall. Some large crates of pumpkins were now being lowered off the back of the truck and wheeled across to the side of the hall. Shortly after, a line of women appeared, placed one pumpkin into a plastic bag, then returning to the hall.

Ludicrous, Sam thought as he followed them in with a sack barrow of lettuces. Once in the hall, he grabbed the empty lettuce crates and returned filling these with pumpkins.

Now that is being pragmatic, he thought.