Richard C. Dellinger's Blog
May 1, 2017
My 5-Sentence Mystery for #MysteryWeek
The Blind Faith Cafe
I had never intended to become a restaurant manager after college but, times being what they were, I was just happy to get a job — first washing dishes in scalding hot water, then bussing and waiting tables, and finally as the lowest-rung-of-the-ladder manager who had to close down The Blind Faith Cafe late at night while the other managers enjoyed dinner with their families and drinks with their friends. Rafael, the cleaning guy, had cranked up the dining room lights and pushed the tables and chairs to one side as he ran the vacuum cleaner back and forth across chunks of soba noodles and tofu — it was a vegetarian restaurant — and emptied the bins overflowing with farm-raised, fresh organic trash. And that’s when I saw it, clear as day, as I balanced a cash drawer in one hand and cup of Red Zinger in the other — a heavy, white blanket of smoke billowing over the seat of one booth into the next like a creeping fog on a London morning or dry ice at a middle school Halloween party. I shrugged it off, since my back ached and I was craving a juicy burger, and didn’t think about it for another second until rush hour the next day when a firetruck pulled into the back parking lot and a dozen firefighters climbed onto the roof and pulled the dead body of homeless man, who was trying to stay warm on a frigid Chicago winter night, out of the exhaust stack of the laundromat next door. The smell hit me like a punch to the face and my stomach turned as I realized that the mysterious ghostly mist from the previous night was the fleeing soul of a desperate man — but who was he, and where did his soul go after brushing past me in the night?
I had never intended to become a restaurant manager after college but, times being what they were, I was just happy to get a job — first washing dishes in scalding hot water, then bussing and waiting tables, and finally as the lowest-rung-of-the-ladder manager who had to close down The Blind Faith Cafe late at night while the other managers enjoyed dinner with their families and drinks with their friends. Rafael, the cleaning guy, had cranked up the dining room lights and pushed the tables and chairs to one side as he ran the vacuum cleaner back and forth across chunks of soba noodles and tofu — it was a vegetarian restaurant — and emptied the bins overflowing with farm-raised, fresh organic trash. And that’s when I saw it, clear as day, as I balanced a cash drawer in one hand and cup of Red Zinger in the other — a heavy, white blanket of smoke billowing over the seat of one booth into the next like a creeping fog on a London morning or dry ice at a middle school Halloween party. I shrugged it off, since my back ached and I was craving a juicy burger, and didn’t think about it for another second until rush hour the next day when a firetruck pulled into the back parking lot and a dozen firefighters climbed onto the roof and pulled the dead body of homeless man, who was trying to stay warm on a frigid Chicago winter night, out of the exhaust stack of the laundromat next door. The smell hit me like a punch to the face and my stomach turned as I realized that the mysterious ghostly mist from the previous night was the fleeing soul of a desperate man — but who was he, and where did his soul go after brushing past me in the night?
April 19, 2017
April 18, 2017
The Blind Faith Cafe
Right after college I worked as a manager in a vegetarian restaurant in Chicago called "The Blind Faith Cafe". One night after the restaurant was closed I saw a strange heavy fog billowing from one booth into another. It was bizarre, but I thought it had something to do with the ventilation and the fact that the booth was next to the cold, frosty windows. A few minutes later one of the waiters saw a puff of white smoke on the opposite side of the dining room and commented on it. It was strange. The next day, during rush hour, a firetruck pulled into the back parking lot. Firemen were climbing all over the roof. When I stepped outside to see what was going on, I witnessed them pulling the dead body of homeless man out of the exhaust stack for the laundromat next door. He was trying to stay warm. The smell hit me like a punch to the face. And, that is when I remembered the ghostly white smoke from the night before. Had I witnessed my first ghost? It was pretty convincing. And it would be a great way to start a story, don't you think?
