The Homes We Seek

By Cendrine Marrouat

A beautiful love story against a backdrop of tragic loss ("By Candlelight")... A life-changing train journey ("The Train")... A young woman who abruptly runs away from home ("What Will Happen Next?")... A powerful tale of love and friendship ("Another Part of Her")... A meeting between a professor and her student ("Hot Chocolate")... A grieving young adult returning to the home of her parents after a five-year absence ("When I Left")... 

 

In The Homes We Seek, Cendrine Marrouat delivers narratives whose rich details, emotions, relatable characters, and life lessons will encourage you to release regret and anger, and find your inner bliss. 

 

The Homes We Seek groups six short stories from three of Cendrine Marrouat's books: "The Train," "What Will Happen Next?" and "In Her Own Words". 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cendrine Marrouat
• Release date: Feb 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224831081

Cendrine Marrouat

Cendrine Marrouat is a French-born Canadian photographer, poet, and author. She is also the co-founder or FPoint Collective, a photography collective; and Auroras & Blossoms Poetry Journal, a magazine that promotes uplifting and positive poetry, no matter the topic. Cendrine has also created the Sixku (poetry form) and the Reminigram (type of digital photography). Finally she works as the Head of Marketing and Communications at Connexion Franco Coop.

Book preview

THE HOMES WE SEEK

A Collection of Short Stories

––––––––

Cendrine Marrouat

Copyright © 2024 by Cendrine Marrouat

Book cover design by Cendrine Marrouat

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the author.

Table of Contents

When I Left

What Will Happen Next?

Hot Chocolate

The Train

Another Part of Her

By Candlelight

About Cendrine Marrouat

Where thou art, that is home. - Emily Dickinson

To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.

- Oscar Wilde

When I Left

The Peugeot 106 tore along the highway.

I spent the last two weeks cleaning, my aunt said. There were clothes and shoes everywhere... She looked and sounded spent.

I checked my watch. It was 8 a.m. The weather was going to be beautiful. The sky already boasted a deep blue—so deep, in fact, that I could not look at it without feeling complete awe. It was a similar awe to what I had experienced in the places where vastness makes you feel small and insignificant.

My aunt seemed lost in her thoughts. Instead of using small talk to try and interrupt the awkward silence between us, I decided to turn on the radio. Music might help ease the tension.

We’re almost there, she stated several minutes later. It’s a small town. Only a couple of roundabouts to go through, and you’ll see a street lined with a cemetery. The house is at the end.

My aunt had not looked at me once since picking me up from the hotel. I could read between the lines, resentment was in the air. My decision was to ignore it. Yes, I had been gone for a long time, but I was not here for her. I had more important things to worry about today.

Hello, Martine! A man’s voice brought me back to reality.

Hello, Yves, my aunt shouted back. The car had just stopped in front of a gate. She motioned me to get out of the car. As soon as I did, a man with greying hair greeted me. We shook hands and I introduced myself.

Oh, I know who you are, he said with a gentle smile. You look like your mother. Pleased to finally meet you, after all these years. He had the most comforting voice I had heard in weeks.

It’s very nice to meet you as well.

I live across the street. Your father entrusted me with duplicate keys, so you could let yourself in while he is away. I nodded and smiled in return. Well, here they are.

Thank you! How long—

I apologize but I must be off. Bye, ladies!

I watched him walk back to his house. Before opening his own gate, he turned around and waved at us. My aunt and I waved back.

————————

Ready? my aunt asked. The keys felt heavy in my hands. There were two of them: one for the gate and the other one for the front door of the house. I unlocked both as gently as I could.

Inside, the hall, living room and kitchen were bathed in half-light. The chilliness surprised me, triggering a short teeth-chattering moment on my part. My aunt noticed and glared at me. She was obviously struggling to contain her rancour...

The funeral had happened without me. Since then, my mother’s friends and family members had made it clear that my absence and behavior were disgraceful. Their comments barely affected me, though. Nothing could distract me from my mission of finally seeing the house in which I had never lived. Regular life would be mine again in a few days.

A tug on my coat’s sleeve stopped my first steps. With her eyes, my aunt signalled the damaged post in the handrail above us. To my horror, I suddenly realized that my mother had hanged herself at that exact spot! Distance had softened the blow, preventing me from fully grasping her deed—until now.

Moving as if in a daze, my first instinct was to reach for the window in the living room. Light needed to flood the place. 

It’s the first time in weeks, you know, my aunt pointed out. I just couldn’t bear the idea of bringing in the sunlight...

Auntie, I would like to be alone. Do you mind?