"The Storm is Coming" anthology from Sleeping Cat Books

1 Comment by Sarah Holroyd - Dec 31, 2011
"The Storm is Coming" anthology from Sleeping Cat Books
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Storms can come out of a clear blue sky, or they can build over a long period. They can take many forms, all terribly destructive: a tornado or hurricane that destroys all your belongings, an abusive spouse who destroys your sense of well-being, or human actions that can devastate an entire society.

In this collection of short stories, poetry, non-fiction, and images, you will find the range of approaching storms, and the range of emotions involved in such cataclysmic events. Within these pages you will find Mother Nature on the warpath in the form of tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards, and vengeful plants. You will find storms approaching in the form of an abusive spouse, a fed-up spouse, and the down-trodden. You will find murder and suicide. But, as is always the case after a storm passes, you will also find life beginning anew.

Your pre-order of this anthology will help defray the production costs, including supplying each of the talented authors with a complimentary author's copy. Please see the Reward levels to the right to select the package that's right for you.

CONTRIBUTORS
Carol Alexander
Suzanne Alexander
Carole Bellacera
Tony Brown
Ann Carter
Joshua Daniel Cochran
Morgan DePue
Krikor Der Hohannesian
Daniel Devine
Cat Dixon
T. Fox Dunham
Farah Ghuznavi
Ken Goldman
Peter Goodwin
Danica Green
Ann Howells
Bruce Lader
Larry Lefkowitz
Joe Massingham
Catherine McGuire
Walton Mendelson
Randy Mixter
Sonnet Mondal
Lylanne Musselman
Ransom Noble
Hal O'Leary
Alan Philps
Henrik Ramsager
William Rasmussen
Herb Shallcross
Gill Shutt
Leslie Silton
Bruce Turnbull

EXCERPTS
It’s happening again. A familiar rage unfolds its sticky wings within the captive interior of my chest: a monstrous butterfly emerging gracelessly from its cocoon.

It’s the same every night. The taste of panic blooms bitter on my tongue. Swallowing hard, I wonder how much longer I can bear this charade.
-from “The Wait” by Farah Ghuznavi


After her taillights disappeared into the gloom, Vittorio shook his head and turned away from the window. It would all work out. God willing. Of course, that’s what he’d believed when they’d left their small village in Sicily a decade ago, thinking that California would be the answer to all their problems.

But nothing had changed, even after he and Rose Maria and 18-year-old Chiara had become American citizens. They were barely getting by on his wife’s income while Chiara went to public high school and worked an after-school job at McDonald’s. Three years ago, Vittorio had been laid off by UPS, and while he drew unemployment pay, Rose Maria had started the job at Day’s Inn, leaving him to stay home to take care of Paolo.
-from “Pride and Joy” by Carole Bellacera


Leaving the mugs behind he strolled down the corridor to the bathroom. He took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and put them on. He didn’t want to leave fingerprints here. Opening the bathroom cabinet, he located a bottle labeled Lunestra. They were Matt’s sleeping pills. Back in the kitchen he dropped two tablets into his mug of coffee and left the open bottle next to the coffee machine.

Taking both mugs he went into the living room and put them on the coffee table. He stood upright and glared at the body sprawled across the marble floor.

“Don’t bother to get up,” he muttered, seeing the bruise on the side of Matt’s forehead coloring up nicely.
-from “Sowing the Wind” by Alan Philps


“All right, you guys! Let’s hit the beach and let’s hit it hard!” the sarge yells, waving us on. “Move your sorry butts like there’s no tomorrow and you just might make it to tomorrow! Remember, fellas. Those who hesitate are the ones that won’t leave this beach alive. Let’s go!”

With that, the tank lurches forward, surrounded by the landing party, with Corporal Wooten leading the way, Sgt. Johnson shepherding us from the rear. The coolness of the clear water feels mighty fine, shoving aside the heat that was radiating from all that metal aboard ship and sendin’ beads of sweat down our foreheads.
-from “Poor Mama” by Tony Brown


Clara focused on the sound of the shutter banging in the wind, tracing it to a bedroom at the front of the house on the second floor, a room she hadn’t entered in years. The sound transported her back in time, back to that black day—the flash of temper, the crush of his fist, the pool of blood at the bottom of the staircase, the empty nursery.

I didn’t mean to hurt you…
-from “Weeds” by Suzanne Alexander


She sits back, takes him in. The boy looks harder now, like a man. He is eleven and violent. He has been taught this by his father. His mother is a wreck, a drunk, a waste. She doesn’t see her son growing to fill a shadow, to walk in bloody footsteps. She will die knowing she let a brute destroy her family. Meanwhile, his father sleeps with two women; he has a choice.
-from “Turbulence” by Bruce Turnbull

More Info

This page was created by Sarah Holroyd.

Sleeping Cat Books publishes anthologies, as well as providing publishing services to indie authors

Contributors' Messages

  1. Looking forward to reading the book. I am spreading the word on the internet.

    Randy Mixter , Jan 7, 2012