Winter keeps the door
The last court still fully staffed. Built alongside the people who were here twelve thousand years before any court was. Lately, more comes through the threshold than goes back.
1994 2026
The city keeps two sets of hours. You are listening during the second kind.
Seasons Gone Bye is a serialized fiction podcast about the people holding a door that has held for a thousand years, in the years it finally starts to give.
Pull up a seat
What this is
There is a club in Pioneer Square with a café on the ground floor, and the coffee is always on. Upstairs, older things keep their offices. Four courts have managed the boundary between the seen and the unseen since before this city had a name, and they have done it the way anyone does a long job: imperfectly, at cost, and mostly out of sight of the people they are doing it for.
The boundary is starting to give.
Seasons Gone Bye follows the people who have to hold it anyway. A baron who cannot speak a word he does not believe is true. His sister, who is the best fighter within a thousand miles and would rather be teaching a self-defense class. A homicide detective whose case files stopped making sense a while ago. A teenage girl carrying a knife she did not ask for.
They will make every correct decision available to them. They will lose ground anyway.
That is the show. Not a mystery about what is in the dark. A story about what it costs to stand between it and everyone else, and about the people who keep showing up to do it.
The register
Mythic realism with something colder underneath. The horror is real and it is never the point. The point is the room it walks into.
The supernatural world in this show has a hard stake in this one. Its people live here. They keep their things here. They buy their groceries and hire lawyers and get their hearts broken here. Long lives and fantastic abilities do not insulate anybody from consequence, hunger, loneliness, or a bad decision made at two in the morning.
The show owes its spirit to a particular version of this city: the underground rooms where transcendence and loss sat at the same table on the same night. The friends who did not make it out of those years are in this work whether or not they are named.
The music stays on as long as there is something worth dancing to.
The club
Seasons Gone Bye is a four story club in Pioneer Square, once the tallest building west of the Mississippi, and each floor is further from the street than the last.
-
Fourth Floor
The Court
The fourth is where the court sits, and where an oath sworn holds absolutely, and where the people who run this city's unseen half argue about what to do next.
-
Third Floor
The Coven
The third belongs to the coven.
-
Second Floor
By Invitation
The second is by invitation.
-
Ground Floor
The Café
The first floor is open to anyone. Music, coffee, a decent pour, and nobody explaining anything to anybody.
There are two shrines on the ground floor. They have been there since the day the doors opened. The regulars learn not to ask.
The courts
Summer keeps the deeds
Across the lake. Land the maps stopped showing, held by a man who has been in this city thirty years and was old when he got here. He is not finished.
Spring keeps the seeds
Everything that insists on growing back. Grudges, weeds, second chances. Spring counts what returns, and it always returns.
Autumn keeps the debts
Every bargain itemized, every favor filed. Interest accrues in seasons. Autumn does not forgive a balance, it forecloses on one.
Spring and Autumn go where the weather goes. In this city the weather is Winter and Summer, and one of them is about to move.
The tide went out in 1889. Something stayed.
Who makes it
Seasons Gone Bye is written and produced in the Pacific Northwest, on land the Coast Salish peoples have lived on for twelve thousand years. The show is built with respect for that fact and in ongoing consultation about how it is represented.
Welcome to the table. Pull up a seat and grab a mug. It feels like it has been too long since we all just sat down.
1994 2026