by David Brant
the square, it is all part of the pageantry of their own sacred moments, all part of the hopeful and optimistic mix - and to other and varied extents for almost all of those who have responded, by the most natural and basic of impulses to this prospect of giving thanks…
…such was the bounty that was being received due to the courage and vision of the Center leadership - truly a thankful happening up to the moment of chaos.
Suddenly and with awesome force it surely does flip, triggered by those pops and cracks, enflamed by the natural fears, stoked by those who are always bent on such action for its’ own sake…
…all around the lovely square and plaza, as the forces converge and the trigger takes effect - the full range of elements of this sphere of happenings, all at once and with a lively spirit they exchange blows and taunts…
…in the entrance plaza and within the hall, the frenzy of the novel Thanksgiving festivities actually stops - a nano moment of stillness and quiet that is thoroughly surreal…
…a minor miracle in itself, provoking the briefest bit of timely thanks from most - after all that is what they are here for - that is the mood, the spirit - but just as quickly it is dashed as the alarm takes hold, given unneeded power by a riot of shouts - “shots” “shots” “some of their mob” “figured they’d do this” “you crazy f…” “it’s just kids” “it’s the cops”…
…one of those monumental struggles - the instinct to understand in pure opposition to the impulse to strike - either or both could be right or wrong…
…out in the square, from the perspective of some distance it seems just as unreal - the shaded mystery of the dark of night adds its’ own element of mystery and terror, just as the natural beauty adds its’ element of disbelief.
It’s an outbreak of craziness, infecting one and all, but in different ways and degrees - all the while the stars and moon continue to cast their soft magic, the gaslights still send out their warmth, the trees go on swaying romantically - it still is a holy evening of thanks - but…
…it’s watershed time - the lovers hold in place, not frozen but rather in tune - jarred, yes, but in an elevated state of alertness and thought, absorbing it all, knowing in some strange but sure way that this is one of those critical points…
…from the direction of the pops comes a disconcerting chorus of whoops of glee and joy…
…now the lovers pivot to look behind and there, fast approaching is the other couple that had jumped off the bench at the disturbance in the plaza, now holding hands with looks of worry and determination at the sounds…
…together they note movement on the periphery - the many policemen, discreetly there all along, they have shifted into visible action and are responding, running swiftly towards the points of alarm…
…these servants of the peace emerge from their cloak, they are truly everywhere - brave and essential and one with the townsfolk.
Unreal sounds - Pop Pop Pop - the Crackling and Whoops and Cheers - from somewhere else in the square - they continue and echo through the night.
From the plaza, another shout of “Gun” - joined by “Gun Shots” from the hall - then the first true screams emanate from within the mass of revelers - then like a shot of emotion, a roar of panic erupts…
…pushing the hardest into the very center of the blur of humanity are both the police captain and the Center leaders - straining beyond all experience to grasp it all - crazy to locate the gun - if their was one - what if one of these nuts pull one in response…
…these natural shepherds find themselves locked as one, “I can’t find my family” “did you see a gun?” “look, coming out of the square - look at those couples coming out into the light” “those shots came from there” “were they really shots?”…
…“there they are!” screams one of the toughs, pulling a gun from his pocket.”
Everyone sees it!
“Stop!” commands the captain as he pivots to the scream and sees the gun emerge.
His head spinning, one of the Center leaders follows the gunner’s eyes to the lovers emerging from the trees, then over to another point in the square from which screeching kids are bursting out into the street, then back to see the gunner raise his arm to aim, he screams “stop him!!!”
One of the hooded muscles had closed to the shouts, and now, in one continuous movement he brings his training to bear and locates their source, then the direction of his aim, then launches his own practiced strike in an all out lunge at the gun arm, lifting and breaking in one smooth motion, causing the discharge to go up into the trees.
Just as swiftly the captain and a swarm of his patrolmen wrestle the crazy to the hard pavement.
Quickly the situation is secured, the police and the hooded muscles - soldiers home on leave - they work seamlessly to take charge…
…a natural clearing occurs - of space and minds, both - adrenaline spent, fury dissipated, all share a collective moment of elevated state and are able now to truly see…
…slowly approaching from the park are the two couples - lovers now bound in a life experience - they had maintained clarity all along and had understood their peril - fully realizing the struggle to disarm the gunner aiming in their direction - or perhaps at the young folk who had also emerged nearby from the trees, exuberant and triumphant from setting off of fireworks in close company with the spirit of this evening of Thanks.
A gust of wind bends the trees - elevating eyes and rewarding with a magical dance of the gaslight off of the branches.
Seemingly for the first time, they all are noticing the beautiful air on this Thanksgiving eve, the magic play of the stars and moon glow, and now the kindly faces of their native fellows. Together the natural leaders take over and gently usher all towards the doors and on into the hall.
So close to disaster, so near to harm, racing towards it just moments ago, listening to the alarmists, getting caught up in the frenzy and rage - terror building upon itself…
…and now, thankfully, thank goodness, and with special thanks to the lovers and young folk who almost paid a horrendous price for the collective madness - the spell is broken and with pure joy, for its' own sake, they sit down together.