Adina Zorin survived as a sex slave in the Auschwitz death camp. This is her story...
Holocaust-survivor Adina Zorin has secrets to reveal about her months spent in Block Twenty-four, Auschwitz's lesser-known brothel. Her granddaughter Natalie Clark has a wicked secret of her own that stands to interrupt the lives of those around her. Auschwitz is a brilliant story told in parallel frames, linking the evil of the past to the corruption of the present age.
Many people have successfully endeavored to write literary and commercial love stories--from Charles Dickens to Charles Frazier. Auschwitz, however, is a hate story that details the effects hate has on individuals and society at large.
To ensure that the Auschwitz reaches the audience that I intend, I am going the route of self-publishing. Thus, your contribution will allow for me to:
Hire a formatter for e-book conversion: $25
Obtain copyright: $35
Obtain an ISBN number: $250 for 10
I am excited about the difference that this book will make in the lives of those who read it. It is intended for people of every race, class, and age.
As a young author, I recognize the difficulty in breaking into the market with a respected voice. However, I believe that it is possible, especially with your help.
Check out an excerpt from "Auschwitz":
Guy could talk...and talk…and talk. Forever. About the same things. This particular conversation had long since run its course, but Natalie liked to think she was supportive enough—not to mention progressive enough—to avoid making interruptions in conversations like these. Guy was her best friend. That wasn’t going to change.
From her apartment balcony, Guy and Natalie peered out over the Toronto skyline. The large city buildings looked like steel mountains spread out around the winding black streets and highway. Cars crawled down the maze of roads, leaving a taupe glaze in the air. The traffic grew louder and more aggressive with each passing minute. Even kind Canadians hated traffic.
Natalie sat in a white wicker chair smoking a cigarette, twisting her hair around her middle finger. Guy leaned over he balcony ledge, swaying his hips back and forth idly, pushing his hair back from his eyes with the same hand he held his lit cigarette. He turned around to face her, his eyes shining. When Natalie smiled, Guy sauntered over to her, taking the chair beside her and snuggling his head into her lap.
He sighed as she stroked his hair. “I don’t get it, Nat. He doesn’t like the way I dress. This outfit is three-hundred dollars…on sale.”
“You’ve really been investing in your wardrobe as of late, huh?” she said, dabbing the ashes of her cigarette in the tray on the wicker table beside her.
Guy smiled sheepishly. “He thinks my clothes are too tight.”
“Did he actually say this?” She wore an expression of flagrant shock, eyes wide and jaw dropped.
“Oh, my gosh, yes. And icing on cake: he said this isn’t that type of men’s store.”
“And what type of men’s store would that type be, Baby?”
“You know….that type of men’s store.”
Natalie drew the left corner of her mouth up, forming a lop-sided smile. “Didn’t know there was a such thing.”
“Me neither, I guess.”
“Well, did you say anything back to him?”
“No.” Guy hurled himself to his feet limberly. He smiled. “You know what I think? Honestly?”
“What’s that, Honey?”
“Maybe he’s that way too.” He smiled coyly, then covered his face with his hands, laughing. “Maybe I’m just imagining things, you know? But he’s just so…”
Natalie crossed her legs, leaned back in her chair, and took another sophisticated puff. “You don’t even have to say it. I’m not blind. If he wasn’t yours, I’d be all over him myself.”
“Do you really think there’s a chance? I mean, honestly?” Guy sat down once more and leaned into her. He was an eager apprentice.
She poked her cigarette around the ash tray. “Uh…duh, Guy. Why else would he be giving you such a hard time? The attraction is obvious. It’s pent up sexual tension. It’s very Freudian, you understand? He noticed how tight your clothes are because he’s checking you out. Besides, Babe, who wouldn’t want to be with you? I swear, if I were a man, I’d totally be after you. It’s about time that you finally got a man.”
Guy smiled quietly and climbed over to sit on her lap. She wrapped her arms around his tiny stomach. He was so thin now that the bones in his behind stabbed her thigh. He had lost the “chub” to reach a perfect twenty-eight pant, but he had not lost an ounce of his sincerity. He’d always been bashful about his crushes with everyone else, but never with her. Concerning these matters, he was forthright to a fault.
Natalie had never been as shy as he. Then again, she never felt she had any secrets to keep. Guy was always afraid that people could hear his “gayness” in his soft, trembling voice. He spent most of junior high and high school quiet—quietly answering questions in class, quietly following Natalie around her house after school, quietly serving as water boy for the football team to catch glances of his twelfth grade crush.
Guy took a deep breath, obviously attempting to sober himself, to smolder his smile. “So, how’s work?”
Natalie bounced her legs to motion him off her lap. They moved to the balcony ledge and cast their cigarettes to the grass below. “Thought you’d never ask, Guy. She’s the same. Same old shameless self-promotion, you know?”
“Her again?” said Guy, turning his face toward the apartment building at their left.
“Daya,” Guy and Natalie said simultaneously, both nodding once.
“Yeah, Honey, I’m glad you remember. Great listener. As always.” She pinched his cheek, leaving a pink blot in the place of his dimple. She smiled and then frowned. “The b**** wants my promotion. She wants it real bad. But trust me when I tell you that she’s a diluted form of a Top Design runner up. She’s got no class. No elegance. Just a bunch of new school idealism and not enough skill to bring any of it to fruition.”
Guy cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re not a little—you know—a little competitive or something like that? Maybe.”
She glared at him. “So what if I was, Guy? Is it even about that?”
Guy sighed shakily. He tapped his foot against the cement.
“No, it’s not jealousy, if that’s what you’re trying to get at. It’s about the fact that I know the promotion belongs to me. You want me to explain it like a televangelist. Fine. I’ve named it and claimed it. It’s mine. You and I both know that. At least I thought we both did, Guy.”
“Well yeah. Definitely. But the promotion’s merit-based, right? So you have just as good a chance as her. It’s supposed to be equal and everything.” Guy held his left elbow. “But you’re the best, so you’re obviously gonna get it.”
Natalie rolled her eyes and began fumbling to light another cigarette. “Thanks, Julia. That’s exactly what I needed—a Saturday morning special about fairness. Like we live in a f****** fair world. I thought you’d be the first to understand that.”
Guy watched Natalie silently smoke her cigarette down to nothing. He looked back down at the grass. He must have figured she wasn’t planning on handing out any apologies.
Natalie punctured the silence. “By the way, Julia’s in New York with Grandmother Zorin.”
“Yeah. She’s making me look like an insensitive bastard too. She wants to spend time with her before she passes.”
He laughed briefly. “Should be interesting. She’s, like, really old now, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. Almost eighty-three, I think. That’s what Mom said. But I just don’t want to travel yet, you know? Not until, you know, not until this is done or whatever. I don’t want to go anywhere, you know, with this thing on my mind.”
Guy caught her eyes. “Yeah. I mean, if you follow the instructions, it should be over in like a week or something.”
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