Veni, Vidi, Vici

“I’M HOME!” yelled Marc as he entered through the front door, his voice an echo through the empty hallway.

Dropping his keys down onto the marble kitchen counter, Marc slung off his jacket and immediately opened the fridge, retrieving a Tupperware container of turkey and some cheese.

“Maaaarrrcc?” sung a woman from an adjacent room.

“In here mom!”

A petite dark headed woman of about forty poked her head out from the kitchen doorway like a curious meerkat and smiled brightly, the lines around her eyes crinkling in joy. Marc, in the midst of making a triple-decker sandwich, halted and seeing his mother, broke out into a wide smile that mirrored hers.

“’Sup mum?”

“Same as always. What about you, sweetheart?”Marc’s mother asked while walking over and lightly slapping his had away from the sandwich then carefully aligning the slices of turkey cheese and bread for him.

“Mmmh, same as always.” He replied averting her curious gaze.

“You sure honey, lately you’ve been a bit restless, I’ve noticed. Is everything okay at school, with friends?” She paused, and then a leisurely, mischievous grin not unlike Marc’s, spread through her face. “It’s a girl isn’t it, my baby’s in love!” she cried with such exuberance that
her slight frame seemed to almost topple over.

“Argh!” exclaimed Marc throwing his hands in the air “I’m not in fuc-”

“Language!”

“Sorry...” Marc mumbled,lowering his voice, he then continued in his futile defence “I’m not in love mom, seriously, it’s just that my grades have been a bit low recently and I’m having a hard time trying to pick ‘em up.”

His mother’s only response was a thin raised eyebrow and an “are you serious?” look. She sighed and with a flapping hand motion, gestured her son out the kitchen and shook her head at him in mock disappointment. Marc laughed, grabbed his sandwich and sauntered out, smiling furtively at his mother sharp perception. Sometimes, he seriously still wondered if she could read minds.

When he walked past his father’s study, Marc stopped in his track. He reversed his steps until he was standing aligned with the doorway and looked. Wow. His dad was actually home.

The space before him held a heady scent of musk, wood and mildew that intruded Marc’s nose, drugging his senses creating an unpleasant giddiness that brought forth equally unpleasant memories. The walls and carpet were a matching deep burgundy and when Marc was younger, six or seven maybe, his father use to tell him that it was painted with the blood of naughty children who wouldn’t do as their parents asked. The furniture was all silver, cold and hard not unlike the man that sat in the middle of the room scribbling furiously in a moleskin notebook.

Now that Marc was here, he might as well have said something. So swallowing hard and facing probably the one and only man whom he was truly afraid of (yet he didn’t dare admit it to himself), he muttered “Hi dad.”

The words were rusty with their lack of use, and sounded rather bizarre coming from his mouth. His father was rarely home at this time, at 12:00PM at night maybe, after ‘an important business meeting’ or a ‘night out with the men’ but never before Marc was home. Isaiah Winston probably wasn’t the best father figure and certainly didn’t act very paternal towards his son but he tried his best and was half successful. Marc Winston was brought up as a high achiever, teacher’s pet and the golden boy. Yet the moment he hit high school, the realization of his father’s wrongs was a painful blow that changed him forever, from then on it was partying, booze, and girls, a feeble attempt to wipe away his ‘perfect’ past. Marc vowed to himself that he would never be like his father, never to have his dangerous temper, sadistic personality and greedy, arrogant attitude. But sometimes, he just couldn’t help but emulate these traits.

“Hello Marc.” rumbled his father in a deep menacing baritone.

Marc was almost suffocating from the tension in the air and he knew that after his father’s reluctant greeting, there was a silent but clearly comprehensible dismissal. He ran from the study so fast that if he were a cartoon, there would seriously be a trail of dust behind him. Why on earth was he so stupid? It wasn’t like they were going to hug each other and everything would suddenly be normal. Making a mental note to never ever do that again, Marc retreated to his room and slammed the door behind him.



Grace gingerly stepped into the metal monster and was struck with a sensory overload. The air was thick with the smell of human sweat, dirt and filth, the creatures were maddened animals that clambered over each other, unaware of their surroundings all drowning in the sea of cries, bellows, barks, yells, screams, shouts, shrieks and screeches. The school bus was a human zoo of the worst, most treacherous quality; it really was the survival of the fittest.

Since Grace didn’t have the brawn to survive the landscape, she provided with brains. Placing each foot carefully in a safe spot and nimbly skipping to another, Grace managed to manoeuvre her way through two metres of dangerous terrains to her usual spot near the front of the bus next to a tall brunette girl. The girl immediately turned her head from gazing out the window at grinned at Grace from ear to ear.

“Grace!” How was your weekend? Mine was really awesome ‘cause, get this right, I like sneaked out of my house at like 10 pm last night and my dad like didn’t even know! It was just so weird ‘cause I really thought that he’d find out. I mean seriously, he like has eyes in the back of his head or something cause he ALWAYS knows that I’m sneaking out! But it was so cool ‘cause I went to Malcolm’s party-did you go to that?- and Malcolm is just like so fricken cool and I had like twenty shots and I even got Vera to drink some –isn’t that just like so weird? Vera never drinks, oh but then she was like yuuuck this is gross, so yeah- oh and then I got so drunk and I woke up with this really really really hot guy on the sofa and oh my gosh! He was so hot! And I totally go his number and stuff and I even made it home by 6 am!”

“That’s awesome Sam. I’m really glad you had a great time and didn’t get in trouble for it.” said Grace, softly laughing at Sam’s bubbly excitement and over-enthusiasm.

Samantha Daniels shared Grace’s physics class and was made to catch the dreaded school bus by her parents when they found out that she’d attended a party and had gotten so drunk she passed out on the side of the road at 3 am in the morning in the middle of nowhere. Samantha was good company. She was vivacious, energetic and had a zest for life that Grace sometimes envied. Her endless banter masked the ugly background noises of the school bus and her anecdotes were at times - despite sometimes being a bit too wild for Grace’s liking - humorous and entertaining.

Grace sat back and listened quietly to Sam’s full ‘blow by blow’ of Malcolm’s party and wondered what it would be like if she didn’t have to catch the bus every day in her current tedious routine . Her parents had said to her a year ago, ‘we’ll get you a car, and driving lessons, sure thing’ but as the months dragged slowly onwards the statement was never acted upon, and since walking was definitely not an option unless a ten mile hike was carried out, Grace resorted to the school bus.

Grace knew that it was pointless to ask her parents again for a car, because like most of the things that she’d ever asked for, the request was pushed back in delay and they’d either say no completely or just forget about it. Kenneth and Lisa Lennon were similar, too similar almost. They share the exact same views on nearly everything, and Grace was one of them.
Grace was the second child after the beautiful Gabrielle Lennon, a miracle child for Lisa who was deemed infertile. They loved Gabrielle like no other and treasured her to no ends. And then eight years later, Grace arrived. Grace was no miracle child, Grace was no beauty and Grace was most unquestionably no treasure. Grace was an accident. And as the two grew, this description was re-enforced. Gabrielle was so intelligent, so charming and so bright. She made so many friends and her parents were so proud of their daughter. Grace, as a child was awkward, a social pariah, confused with what was happening around her and slow to react. Her parents, however, made no effort to help her, for their golden years were over; their dreams had been fulfilled with Gabrielle, a blossoming beauty that had the brains to gain a scholarship into Brown. So raising Grace for Lisa and Kenneth was reliving a watered down memory, an activity – or rather a duty- flowing listlessly across their daily to-do lists.

Snapping out of her musing trance, Grace realized that it was her stop. Waving goodbye to Sam, she stepped out of the bus and onto the barren road that stretched out before her.

The bus door closed behind her with a mechanical creek and drove off, far far away from her, leaving, seemingly like everyone else in her life.