Sharon L. Clark, Author

Month: September 2020

A Moving Study in Family Relationships

I think when I picked up this novel I was expecting to learn more about the concentration camps built on American soil during World War 2. Instead, I was pleasantly drawn into this study of familial relationships and racial identity.

The Stories We Choose Not To Tell follows Angela Campbell on her path to self-discovery through following the paths of the strong Japanese-American women who came before her.

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Just as her family is burying her grandmother, or Obachan, Angela learns that she is expecting her first child – and she’s terrified. Her relationship with her mother, Judith, isn’t the best, and she’s afraid the pattern will continue with her own child. On top of this, her Aunt Pamela gifts her a collection of cassette tapes of a teenaged Pamela interviewing her mother, Aiko, Angela’s Obachan, about her time in the Amache internment camp. The story that unfolds pulls you in and immediately invests you in the relationships.

Angela dives into the box of tapes, as well as her mother’s old journals, and a bigger picture emerges. Making the connection between what happened to her grandmother, the way her parents were treated as a mixed-race couple, and current events, she is compelled to find a way to tell Aiko’s story. Along the way, as she strives to honor her ancestors, she loses sight of the family already surrounding her and loving her. I cried through the last several chapters of this novel.

Life is messy, relationships are complicated, and communication is everything. There are so many important facets to Kelly’s novel, I’m still thinking about it days later. I love Kelly’s writing style and adore her characters. I highly recommend this book!

Within (Part 4)

I’ve been working on the same novel, making revisions, for such a long time that I needed a little break to stretch my writing ‘legs’, so to speak. There will be a total of 4 installments and I will release a new section each Wednesday. “Within” was a quick short that I thoroughly enjoyed writing – and that I hope you enjoy reading!

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With a jolt, I’m back inside my own aching body, the cold of the cinder-block wall I’m propped against seeping into me.  My cheeks are wet, my head is throbbing with every heartbeat, and I feel excruciating pain in parts of my body I’d forgotten still existed. A musty, damp smell seeps into my nostrils, the soft whoosh from the vent the only sound. There’s very little light here, filtering through a grimy plate-glass window on the other side of the room. The walls are painted a dingy white, orange rust stains dripping down from the ceiling. What is this place? Where the hell am I?

I bet Kyle’s out there, on the other side of the glass, waiting for me to scream and cry and throw myself against the walls trying to escape. The energy has been sapped from my body, even moving my head is like trying to shift a boulder.

What the hell did he do to me? Every incident leaves me depleted and weak, but never like this. So, what’s different? He injected me with something. What the hell could do this to me, to Them? God knows I tried to tamp it down, hold the power at bay with anything and everything. Alcohol never worked. Not even ketamine. Whatever this is…I need more.

A creak catches my attention and my eyes focus just as Kyle steps into the room.

“Hello, Desiree.” He shuffles around the edges of the room. “How are you feeling?”

My mouth opens, but I can’t force out any sound. I can’t lift my hand, can’t speak, can’t wiggle a foot; and that knowledge seizes my heart in my chest. But that’s nothing compared to the chill that skitters down my spine at the cruel grin that slithers across his face.

“Very good. Excellent. You’ve been kept on a steady diet of succinylcholine and a lead derivative—my own little concoction—to keep you under control without killing you. It seems to be working very well, indeed. You can see me and hear me and register what’s happening to you, but powerless to do anything about it.” He closes the space between us and is suddenly kneeling in front of me. “Because there are plans for you, Des. Important plans.”

I cast my eyes around the room, anywhere but into his cold eyes, hoping to stave off the tears that are trying to spill out. Just kill me! I want to scream. I know he wants to, I know it as surely as I know I deserve it, and yet here we are. The tips of my fingers start to tingle, a shadow of feeling returning, and my breathing quickens. Kyle sneers.

“Yes, you should be afraid. You see, we don’t just need to know how you do what you do. No, you’re far more useful than that. We’re going to figure out how to harness your mutant power to use against our enemies. I can’t guarantee it won’t hurt…” He pauses to trail a finger along my cheek, then throws his head back and guffaws. “Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s going to hurt. A lot, Desiree. You are going to feel every ounce of pain you deserve and more. And I’m going to enjoy watching all of it.”

His laughter rings off the walls as the pale, violet glow seeps from my skin…

END