Song of the Heart

Prologue - Young Beginings

"That's my boy!"

Thoughts of pride going through Armando Colmare's mind as his son picked up his father's old violin and played Paganinni's Twenty-Fourth Caprice in his family home in the Paris countryside. His son, Felicio, had been learning the piece for seven months at the time. Armando could not convince himself even further that it was indeed his son playing the musical masterpiece.

Armando was a maestro and concert master for the Òrchestraé de la Paris, the worlds' most famous orchestra. He had been playing the violin and in fact, every single instrument imaginable ever since he was in second grade. He was atop the list of the finest musicians in both classical and modern music.

Life soon changed for him when he got engaged to his fellow violinist, Avilea Folli. They decided to let go of their musical careers to raise a family worthy of being called "Colmare". With similar intents, they agreed to have a child. Who, would later be named as the best musician in the world. A child of whom they'd name Felicio Colmare.

Felicio grew up, under the guidance of his father, to be quite a playful one. He would collect the small, old jars of rosin that his father would have used up on his violin's bow. Oddly, Felicio would stay in his room and talk to his feather-filled little friends all day about what to play next.

Since he was born, Felicio had been brought up in the world of music. His father, being an expert after all, trained him for two hours every way, everyday. By the age of five he had already bested all the music teachers in France. At the young age of six he had already won countless competitions and played at several different recitals and concerts.

Ever since Felicio had started playing, he had always dreamed of completing all of Niccoló Paganinní's twenty four caprices. It had been his life's dream, to finally put to the test all of his knowledge and prove to his father that he was not a mere violinist but a violinist to be remembered throughout history.

" So, did I miss any notes?"

Felicio asked his ever-supportive father.

" Not a single wrong one, Felicio. "

His father taking in his long awaited reward. After nine years of constant training, he had finally heard his son play the piece of which millions of violinists fear so greatly.

" Come, son. I must show you something. "

He took Felicio into the depths of his personal music hall. Staggered with awe, Felicio could do nothing but stare at his very father's collection of instruments big and small.

Felicio's eyes wandered all over the great maestro's hall. Staring as if it were his last glimpse at all the violins, violas, cellos and basses hung across the vast walls of the chamber. The young virtuoso started thinking to himself:

" What am I doing here? Father only allows mother and himself to come here. "

Still pondering, his thoughts were interrupted by his father.

" Felicio, come here. "

Armando's deep opera toned voice fills the hall as is father calls him to his side. Little Felicio could only hope that he wouldn't get a scolding here. That was all in his little mind, after all. Yet again, he began muttering to his own conscience:

"What did I do wrong? Did I play it too fast? Perhaps I took to long in the fourth variation? Maybe I played too much whistle on the harmonics."

While Felicio was mentally preparing himself for a beating by his father, Armando took hold of a short, golden rope and untied it from the very side of the wall. The wall, draped with a lush, red velvet curtain concealing everything inside.

Felicio's mind, expectedly, began to wander again. It seemed as if he would not stop his questioning. His hands were getting sweaty. They started dripping in fear all over his father's old, Italian violin. He, although, was still in a world of his own asking questions.

" What did papa hide behind that red curtain?"

He asked himself still not sure of his father's intents.

" This, son, will all soon be yours."

The blooming maestro still was in awe when his father took the rope and pulled it down. As he exerted all that he could, the gears, pulleys and screws all started to move in a grand manner. Ticking and turning every second that they went.

The sound of mechanical glory filled the room. The odd way that the gears pulled each other. The harmonious spinning of the axles was beyond compare. Felicio had never seen such of a complex system in his life.

Light instantly filled the dark chamber. There was a flash of more than fifty chandeliers. The grand fixtures illuminated the once mystery-filled hall to reveal a grand gold plated orchestral stage. The pillars of which were a towering two stories high.

The floor was covered with a beautiful red velvet carpet. The echoes of the gears could still be heard in the back. The smell of the instruments that once occupied the stage still lingered. Every single whiff was taken in deeply by Felicio, savoring the moment.

Cold unnerving air suddenly blew past their faces as the curtain rose rapidly to the ceiling as it revealed the great stage itself, covered in gold. As of that moment a grand concerto started playing. The sound of which could not be leveled by any other. Filling the room with an undeniable presence. That of which, was strong enough to overcome any fear that was present before.

Music uplifted the two as they stood before what could be the grandest stage in all of musical history, music that summed up the maestro's forty-four years of playing and orchestrating, music that would take a permanent place in young Felicio's mind.

At the perfect moment, Armando began to sing in his deep and powerful voice. The darkness of his voice was perfectly balanced with the lyrics and music. Strong and unmatchable, his voice soared over the grand concerto to create a powerful blend, that of which, no man could ever take for granted.

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Years have I waited

and sought your perfection

Now I have taken

my reward of completion

You have been long with me

and yet you've sailed

The seas of music be

and told the tale

And if you've sought the end,

by God, you're wrong

The best of what you will pass

is still to come

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