New Year’s Eve, 1946
They seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
First came the music, unexpectedly and suddenly, as if someone has switched on the radio and turned it to the classical station. Perplexed, the diners lift their heads from their conversations and looked around, wondering if they had somehow skipped over the dinner-and-a-show portion of the evening.
Acadia House had always been a fine diner. People always forgot that it was a restaurant because of its exquisite atmosphere. Frankly, it was all too hefty to be one. From its Victorian terracotta pillars that rose from the elegant marbled floor, to the deluxe indoor waterfall, to the hundreds of custom-made elm wood tables placed impeccably across the mural dinning room. The chandelier lit, five star hotel-restaurant had been the home to a host of special guests through out the years. Athletes, celebrities, foreign visitors, political ambassadors – anyone who was ever anyone had been served at Acadia at some point during its 40-year history.
Tonight was no different. As the music - fittingly Beethoven’s Fifth symphony – continued to play, in came a group of dancers. They poured into the restaurant from all directions, scattered across the floor, poised themselves in pre-rehearsed positions, and began to dance in a syncopated movement.
The diners were undeniably intrigued. The unannounced entertainers included men and women, all of whom had the physique of seasoned gymnastics. They were energetic and robust; their moves were gracefully choreographed, though it was impossible to separate them apart because of their strange wardrobe choice.
The black tights they wore wrapped around their entire bodies, extending all the way up to their chests and covering their heads. This, with their unified dance moves made them looked animated, almost comical. Whatever this performance was, it was quite unlike anything they’ve ever seen before.
Even the waiters had stopped serving. Like the rest, they were captivated by the strange sight. They gazed on as if hypnotized, so much so that one of them continued to pour hot coffee into a woman’s cup, without realizing he’d missed his aim.
Before long, the soothing music was getting into their heads. An odd yet relaxing vibe oozed the room. People no longer questioned the unusualness of the scene; pretty soon everyone lost their train of thoughts and gave up trying to make sense of what was going on. So much so that when the explosion first dropped, it seemed to have come out of nowhere.
It happened so abrupt, in fact, that those who sat closest to the kitchen, where the inferno originated, had less than a fraction of a second to register what had happened before being engulfed by the giant fireball. A shock wave sent the tables flying, along with the still dazed diners. Snapped back into reality, they panicked and screamed. It was remarkable how quickly a fire can burn. The blissful evening the diners were enjoying just a few seconds ago had now turned into a scene of terror.
Calmly –almost too calmly - the masked dancers took a final bow and backed out of the burning restaurant. Spilled drinks and broken glasses were everywhere, sharp debris flew in the air. The diners helplessly glanced around in astonishment as they crawled across the soot-covered floor, coughing and crying for help. Stunned bystanders gathered in the street, covering their mouth in horror, wondering what kind of a careless mistake could’ve caused this catastrophic accident.
Only, it was no mistake. And it was the farthest thing from an accident.
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Project Vigilante
Teen FictionFor Tammy Rynn, being a student in 1967 is both dangerous and exciting. The Culterculture movement is at its all time high, and everything seems like an adventure. LSD, sexual freedom, the Beatles, anti-vietnam war, youth rebellion, it is a thrillin...