The magic voice
Eric had moved to a Western country from Eastern Europe when he was ten years old. He had been born in a difficult time of communist regime in Romania and his parents escaped the hunger and censorship by finding work in the West, closer to his ancestor’s origins. He not only found his roots where he moved, he also found love.
At first, adapting to the new conditions was not an easy task; but Eric was a resourceful and adventurous boy, so he went exploring the neighborhood and quickly made friends with some other boys who were playing soccer, hide-and-seek or building rockets from paper and needles. Soon, he was doing just fine.
He wasn’t lonesome because he had brothers and sisters at home: but his family was sometimes regarded as an immigrant tree that was casting shadows over the wealthy people of the neighborhood. Some of the rich kids watched Eric and his siblings with contempt because of it. At school they would sometimes mock them and give them nicknames, which made him angry. Their parents weren’t very wealthy, so their clothes were most of the time the same, which added to the distance between them and the more wealthy children. He didn’t regret the company of the pretentious, though: he preferred to play outside, free from any constraints of etiquette and schedule. There was a little river crossing the edge of the town where he lived and he would go there in the afternoon and evenings to play by the water.
That was where he heard it for the first time.
He was just looking for shiny pieces of colored glass that he saw in the river, digging through the muddy leaves with a branch. He liked to collect colorful pieces of glass and stare at the world and at the sun through the rays of transparent hues that changed everything into a different view. It was a secret world he had access to, by looking through the pieces of broken glass. He found them in the streets, in the dirt, in the river… green, red, blue, yellowish or brown pieces of broken glass in many shapes. They had something mysterious: they were like portals to another space and time.
He had just seen a light blue piece underneath the leaves in the water and was trying to get to it, when he heard the sound. It was coming from somewhere nearby: it was a melody. He listened attentively: it had something magical. It was unusual. It was something he had never heard before. A voice so warm like the sunshine, magical like another universe, sweet and enticing like a spring day of freedom and happiness was connecting to his soul, linking the sound to his ears and beyond, to his mind, in a hypnotizing glow he could feel infusing his thoughts instantly. He dropped the branch and looked up. He couldn’t see anything from the riverbank, only the rooftops of some nearby houses. The melody went on; the voice was charming and mesmerizing, as if calling him closer.
What is that music? Whose voice is that? he asked himself, in bewilderment.
It was too out of the world. It was like nothing else he knew. He climbed up to the street and tried to get closer, sharpening his ears.
It was a melody he enjoyed a lot, even though it was the first time he could listen to it. He felt completely mesmerized. His heart started beating faster. He knew he had a new purpose: he had to find out whose voice had captured his soul so intensely. He looked at the houses, passing them by, trying to locate the one where the sound came from.
But then, the voice stopped. In just a few minutes, it disappeared.
Eric felt deprived of something, but also thrilled by the discovery: the neighborhood was magical and it had a voice from another world, singing of sunshine and captivating his imagination.
He returned to the river and picked the piece of blue glass he had found. He plunged his hand through the dirt and cold water, ignoring the wet sleeves and getting his knees muddy from leaning on the edge, taking it out to light. It was pastel blue and polished, almost round like a marble.
“What did you find there?” he heard someone ask him.
It was his friend, Jerry.
“A new treasure!” he exclaimed and showed him the piece of glass.
“It looks nice…”
“Nice? It’s magical! I’ll see Andromeda galaxy through it.”
Eric smiled and felt happy. It wasn’t the glass that was making him feel like something magical had happened: it was the voice and the way it thrilled him down his spine and up to his most imaginative thoughts. He felt so enthusiastic and elated, like floating on clouds. He was in love and he didn’t realize it.
In the coming days, he tried to find the voice again. He walked to the river each afternoon, listening attentively. He spent hours and hours roaming along the riverbank, but it didn’t happen.
And then one day, he heard it again. Only he wasn’t by the river: he was at school. He heard the voice coming through the corridor, resounding in the halls, between the walls and the windows, brightening the place with its surreal magic of sunshine and spring. Colors started flowing in the air like fireflies before his eyes. He felt his skin tingle with excitement. The voice was there again!
“Did you hear that?” he asked the other boys.
“Sure. That’s our new colleague”, a twelve year old answered him. “She’s rehearsing for the school festivity next month.”
“Do you know her? What’s her name?”
“Of course I know her, she’s in my class”, the boy bragged proudly. “She just moved in town recently. Her name is Estelle.”
Eric was staring along the corridor. Her name sounded charming and magical too. Estelle, he thought. It was just right. He needed to meet her immediately. He stared nostalgically and curiously along the corridor.
“Take your mind off her”, the boy warned him. “She’s out of your league. She doesn’t mix with immigrants like you… Besides, you’re still a kid. And she’s got enough real men in her class”, the boy continued, grinning defiantly and flexing his muscles mockingly.
Eric didn’t listen to him. He was used to that attitude, so he discarded the words like empty dry leaves falling from a tree. He was determined. He needed to meet her.
He turned around and walked towards the door to the music hall, much more preoccupied with what was inside. He placed his ear on the door, listening to the flow of the melody… and the magical voice. He closed his eyes blissfully. He didn’t realize how time went by.
And then a hand grabbed his ear, tearing it painfully.
“Why aren’t you in the classroom at this hour?”
The break had been over for twenty minutes and the school principal was walking along the corridors, checking on the children - standing in front of him unexpectedly.
“Go to your class at once, or I’ll call your parents and tell them about this!”
Eric ran away, but he was still happy and smiling he had heard that voice, even if his ear was strangely giving him the feeling of sudden ache and detached stinging burn.
He wanted to see Estelle. What did she look like? he wondered.
He imagined her like a summer day… like a spring trip in the fields… like sunshine rays touching his face as he closed his eyes, dreaming of her voice.