A cappella

Chapter 1: A cappella

A cappella (Italian) definition: singing without the use of instruments
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Max went for a run on the road behind his grandparent's house, a small countryside road that stretched through vineyards and meadows - a road full of history.

There, his mother, as a child, had learned how to ride a bicycle; there too his father had walked before him, having come as a visitor, while still a student with a weak command of his French language but believing that he would nevertheless dictate his foreignness through the power of his youthfulness.

Running here was painful and difficult, as if the asphalt was carrying the weight of the past and stuck heavily to his shoes.

Unaware of what might have happened in the past, Max carried on running, forcing his way through while trying to maintain his rhythm, attentive to the surrounding countryside scenery that was new to him, observing the white villas with their gardens full of roses and the horses already busy grazing the pastures.

"It was not unusual in those fields at the side of the river, frequently flooded, to come across a deer, a hare or a grey heron, sometimes even a stork too", his grandfather had told him.

However, Max saw nothing of the sort this morning, concentrated on regulating his breath, it even seemed as if he was the only one moving in that country décor, advancing along the river with long strides, which he tried to keep regular.

When he would stop a few kilometers later, short of breath, it was a white bench made of rocks that would draw his attention, offering a view on the nearby river.

He sat down, feeling satisfied, attentively watching the spectacle unfolding.

The river was large, muddy and was flowing nonchalantly, peacefully, between two riverbanks enveloped by trees; the sky was even larger, wide open in that flat landscape.

There was no one but him to observe the silent dance of a few dragonflies, the only movement besides the slow nearby water flow.

What he would see on the other side of the road would appear even more beautiful to him.

To the left of the river, a charming mansion of white limestone, three floors topped with a slate roof, with a façade of stone stairs leading up to the porch.

"Château la Capelle", he read aloud at the park gate. How much he would have liked to live there and have this Château as his own, his lands and his vineyards... It was his dream to own one in the south one day, to receive his family, his friends...

He would be standing there on the porch to greet them, at his side...yes... ofcourse... that fantastic girl he met at university, and who, with her long hair, brown and light and that pure face expression, would make her the perfect lady...

They would both be dressed like Mr Darcy and Elisabeth in the novel by Jane Austen ... or rather like the characters in Dowton Abbey during the interwar period... they would make parties in that garden, on that lawn with its fresh grass, under these old trees... "La Capelle"... he repeated that name whose sound seemed to him full of promise.

"A capella", he continued, driven by the similarity of the sounds. A cappella... he remembered having learned this expression watching a video of the Belgian singer Stromae as he was preparing to perform his hit song "formidable" In the metro of the city of Toronto, alone, without the help of any musical instruments, like any ordinary passenger who would start spontaneously singing his misfortunes away.

"I'll sing a cappella, it will be a great moment of solitude" anticipated the artist. And then when he sang, the crowd had gathered around him, an impressive crowd, who swallowed his every word and shared his every feeling.

Max felt he too would be capable of exciting a crowd, to find the words, the tone and the gesture that would shake or seduce the crowd.

He was not a musician, but he had a real taste for languages and an innate talent for communication, and he would love to learn to play an instrument, to work his voice.

He had read that anyone could improve their voice and learn to sing.

Sitting alone on the stone bench, eyes fixed on the shimmering surface of the water, with only dragonflies as an audience, which kept in continued pursuit of each other in the soft light of the autumn morning, he began singing aloud and a cappella:

"Formidable...Tu étais formidable, j'étais fort minable, nous étions formidables "... a great moment of solitude...

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Hiii there! My very first chapter on Wattpadd aaaaaaa!!! And you read through it! We are making history!!

Haha no but on a more serious note, thank you so very much for reading my first chapter and i hope you come back for more! A vote and comment would not hurt of course ;)

First impressions of Max?