The Voice

Last year, Gérard was told he would not ever sign again. For him, singing was his life, he was part of big operas and, a few times, had solo shows, which he loved so much! 

The day he got the bad news he would never be able to sing again, he deeply slept on it, with the help of powerful painkillers, vodka, and a little bit of cocaine. Later, he pulled himself together and figured out his own solution to get his voice and his life back to where they were before the accident. 

Hopeful, on his way to the Botanical garden, in the bus, he saw a man looking familiar, humming a tune from Gérard's childhood. His mind wandered back to his previous life of concerts and fame. Just like before, each note makes his body tingle and his soul soar a little more. Through the dirty window, as it is often the case at the end of winter, sidewalks strewn with garbage and rock dust.

The bus stop pulled him out of his daydreams. Gérard flew out on the sidewalk and ran to the ticket booth. For once, he hadn't stumbled, and despite the unseasonably cool morning, he felt unusually comfortable. 

Gérard crossed the gate without paying the guy who totally ignored him, then headed to the medicinal herbs area. He had found this recipe antique book, he has been studying herbs and plants to make this "Miraculous recipe that gives singers their voices back" (sic). Hey! The worst thing that would happen iss still only a stomach ache or a bad diarrhea! 

There, he cut flowers and leaves, pulled two roots from the ground, washed them, then put them in the bag with the other herbs, like a precious treasure.

Heading to the pond, he found busy lovers on his favorite bench. Gérard-the-smarty-singer chose his next best spot : this slight elevation under the weeping willow on the other side would make a much better scene for his come back to showbiz! (He had planned to sign as soon as he gained back his vocal cords).

Leaning against the tree, filled with ingredients from a handwritten recipe, the magic tea bag fell into the steaming water. Well, he had changed a bit the proportions for a quicker and more effective effect, with an ounce or two of vodka, for flavor. What difference would it make? The taste reminded him why it had maple syrup in it! He waited the prescribed time then drank it all up. Gerard could feel the roaring crowd and see the water lilies change into a platform. Bright flowers turned towards him, like bright spots.

As straight as a post, he stood up, took a few breaths to warm up his air column, then he blew this easy, clear, sharp and pretty spun note, that came back in an echo of accuracy and precision. The magic potion worked. As he closed his eyes, the show went on: the public, and his parents, grandparents, every ancestors cheered him on at each vocal prowess.

Later, he found himself back at the Garden, under the willow, but something had changed.  He could not recall when he had been this solid and strong on his feet but well, did it matter? He went back to the bus, went in, ignored by the driver: no card required. Bizarre! Up ahead, seated at the back, a man looking like a great-grandfather seen in the family album started singing loudly: no one seemed to care. Gérard started signing with him for the rest of the rides.

Since that day, the "bus opera by nights" driving people to Botanical garden, nowadays is known as the most haunted sites of the city. And very few drivers accept the ride to the Botanical Garden, but it's now part of the Haunted sites to visit!

Translated with the help of www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version) and Google Translate, and Linguee.

Edited by me.

Am I rambling too much?

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