It’s a pleasure to be welcoming the Seasonal Collective as we shine a light on their anthology, Summer Paths.

This, the fourth and final selection of stories, completes the Seasonal Paths series created by a consortium of best-selling and award-winning North Atlantic writers.

In this anthology you will encounter unintentioned consequences, love in later life, the pull of family dynamics, misguided assumptions and murderous soulmates.

These yarns will take you to new worlds, into a ghostly abyss, across an ocean in pursuit of truth and into the darkness of ancient beliefs.

Make yourself comfortable and surrender to these multi-styled tales, all linked by the theme of summer, within the covers of this book. You will be surprised and entertained by what you find.

The Seasonal Collective has kindly shared an extract from Pierre C. Arseneault’s, The Year of the Goat with us today. We hope you enjoy. 

*****beginning of extract*****

I like to tell people, I loved Gus and his motley crew so much that I wanted to tell another tale with this same cast and so I wrote this comedy called The Year of the Goat in Summer Paths as a sequel to Melvin in Winter Paths.

The Year of the Goat

By Pierre C. Arseneault

A dry, cracking sound echoed through the sultry morning air as the wooden baseball bat connected with the softball. Much of the crowd in the bleachers stood, cheering as the ten-year-old girl dropped the bat and ran for first base.

“The kid’s good,” Harvey said, stuffing his age-spotted hands into his jacket pockets as he stood next to the chain-link fence that circled the baseball field.

“Isn’t that Scooter’s granddaughter?” Gus asked, lifting his beige bucket hat and wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. He wondered how Harvey could wear long pants and a jacket on such a hot summer’s day.

“Over here!” Gus heard a familiar voice shout. Turning his attention to the bleachers, he saw his friend, nicknamed Scooter since early childhood. He’d been the only kid in the area who’d had a push scooter instead of a bicycle. Scooter straightened and waved excitedly while shouting, the wispy white hairs that ringed his baldpate fluttering in the warm breeze. “Did you see that?”

Gus’s knees creaked as he followed Harvey up the side of the weather-beaten bleachers of the old ballpark.

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