Jenni Clarke - Author

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Humanity has made terrible decisions in the past. Those who are effected can only hope we learn for the future.


August 9th

The pretty nurse with blue eyes, tells me it would be good to write down my feelings and memories. I am trying, if only to earn a smile.

A year ago, I witnessed the day humanity plummeted to an unimagined depth of cruelty.

The last sound I made was the scream of a wounded animal, as I watched my wife die in agony, alone on the path outside our house.


August 15th

People say when you die you see a bright white light. I saw the brightest light man can make, but I didn’t die. Many did. The heat which followed killed many more, cooking them where they stood. The smell is a memory I had buried with my past…I do not want to remember, but now I cannot stop. I cannot eat anything cooked.


I looked in a mirror this evening, the twisted scar around my throat is puckered and red. It is not as bad as some others carry.  


September 9th

I walked outside today. A few steps alone under the blue sky.

A year and one month ago I growled at the grey skies, wishing the sun would melt the clouds away. One small hole was all they needed. Those poor pilots. How do they live with their guilt? I can’t live with mine. One small hole in the clouds, one large hole in my heart.


September 12th

Tired.  The air is warm on my clammy skin. The pretty nurse asked me about my guilt. I ache already, how can it be worse. I sent my little girl to school. She didn’t want to go. She said her tummy hurt…

After the heat came a vibration, felt in every cell of my body. Half the town was flattened. I never saw her again. Her name? I don’t think I can.




September 20th

The pretty nurse was right, the pain may be acute, but a pressure is released.

I am no longer sad, but angry. My family, my friends, my work colleagues. Dead, or dying. I do not see anyone I knew. We lived our lives, trusted our leaders to make the right decisions. Who was right and who was wrong? We all heard of the Hiroshima horror, shook in our beds and cried for those poor people. My wife, MIyoko, held me tight and whispered her belief in the goodness of men.


October 15th

I dreamt of Yuka and Miyoko. They were whole and smiling. We ate together. I am ready to be with them. Cleansed of my hate. No longer silent.

The people of Nagasaki and Hiroshima died, and continue to die for a reason.

Mankind reached the boundaries of terror. There is only one way to go from here. Peace.


(Translated from the original by Kiyoshi Yamaguchi)

 Fiction - Finding Peace


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