The Golem (a short story)
And something a bit different.
Last week I mentioned I was going to do something a bit different with my latest fiction post. Here it is:
In order to provide a bit more of a “this is how the sausage is made” insight into my writing process, I thought it might be interesting to take one of my older stories—one which I’m a bit more distanced from—and break down the aspects of it that in my view either make it work or keep it from working.
I’ll try to focus on broader technique like pacing, scene selection and directional choices to keep it from becoming too much of an inside baseball exercise. But we’ll see how it goes.
I wanted to try this out because I’ve recently become conscious that I talk about “the process” in these posts quite frequently, without attaching it to anything specific.
The story I’ve included below is another one of the NYC Midnight entries where I had twenty-four hours to come up with a narrative that fit a certain theme and word count. This makes it a bit easier to dissect because I’ve got a built-in excuse that it’s not my “best” work.
Hopefully, the contrast in quality between this one and my more recent bits of writing will be self evident. But who knows?
On Friday I’ll put up a second post, breaking down things I would change about it if I were to write it again. The holes I see in it etc.
THE GOLEM
Our young narrator is living in a Polish Ghetto during the early persecution of Jews in WW2. All around him some very adult events are taking place, but he is adamant on keeping the 'game' alive right until the end.
From memory, the criteria for this story were:
Genre: Historical Fiction
Location: A garden apartment
Object: A piggy bank
I’ll never forget the day my dad played arts and crafts with us. All the adults from the neighbourhood joined in right there in our living room- my sister Gretchen, Mr and Mrs Edelman, even old man Benowitz! At first everyone acted like they were a bit too grown up for it- making faces, glancing at one and other as they held up their yellow cardboard. But it didn’t take long for my Dad to get them into the spirit. He said he’d give 9 marks to whomever came up with the best star design. Immediately old Benowitz started talking trash as he snipped away like a madman! He’s such a funny looking guy- big wide shoulders with a tiny wee head, skin all grey like clay- so when my Dad pointed out, “Benowitz! Put those eyes away, you look like the Golem of Prague!” Mrs Edelman almost fell off her stool laughing!
My star won. I kinda cheated though. All that talk of the Golem reminded me of Rabbi Judah Loew and the star he used to wear at the top of his hat. He’s a wizard. I couldn’t lose really, could I?!”
The coolest part of that day was how long the game lasted. Usually, adults get bored waaaaay before I do. But they continued the star game for aaaaages! Walking around the streets with them and everything. That just shows how fun my Dad can be when he’s around.
My Dad turned into a big kid after that night. When he heard my 9 Marks clink into that piggy bank, I think I made him a bit jealous. He came home from work the next day with this bag full of cash. My sister Gretchen rolled her eyes and called him an idiot, but I thought it was the coolest thing. Our house had been so cold and smelly since my Ma left, I’d started to think we were poor. But to see all that cash?!
He couldn’t fit all that in a piggy bank though. Instead, he took the sharpest knife from the kitchen draw- the one we only use to slice tomatoes- and made this really thin cut in his and Ma’s old mattress. After he’d slipped all that money inside, I tried to go back and find the slice mark, but I couldn’t even see it!
Dad showed me the Garden Apartment on my ninth birthday. It started to rain just as we stepped outside, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He walked me right past the old well in our back courtyard and crouched down beside this bed of bright red poppies. Little clouds of dust poofed up at him as rain thudded onto the ground, but he shuffled in the dirt until he found an edge he could get his fingers underneath.
The Garden Apartment is the BEST birthday present I’ve ever been given. It’s only got one gas light, way deep down the end, it’s filled with all the spaghetti you can eat and best of all, the beds in there are hammocks!
Dad made me open that hatch four times myself before we went back home. He ordered me, “never tell anyone about the Garden Apartment-”
I don’t know who he thought I was gonna tell. I hadn’t seen any of our neighbours since the arts and crafts day. I think it had something to do with what Old Benowitz said before he left that night, “Daleeing the vinyetyable” or something like that.
“-and you can only ever go there if men in uniform turn up at our front door.”
I checked out the window every morning for those men, fingers crossed I’d see one soon!
The afternoon he left for the long business trip he’s ever been on, my Dad started the strangest game we’ve ever played. He talked all fast, panting between words, asked me to go grab my piggy bank and come up to his bedroom.
When I got there, all of Ma’s best jewellery was laid out on the dresser. His eyes were all red, but sometimes that happens when he’s been laughing really hard. He put two of her shiniest rings into my piggy’s slot right away and then asked me to choose my favourite from the rest of them. I picked the little locket that had both him and my Ma together inside miniature windows. That made him cry for real.
Next he took me over to the bed, showed me where he’d made that slice all those months ago and asked me, “you ready to play hide and seek?”
I nodded.
He said, “No matter what you hear. You stay in this hiding spot until you’re sure everyone’s gone from the house. Ok?”
I nodded.
Man it was hot in there.
Breaking glass.
Scary stranger’s voices.
A scream from my sister.
But I kept playing.
I waited until the streetlights ticked on before I climbed out. No one had closed any of the windows, so the house was freezing. When I got downstairs, I froze in a different way. On the other side of the curtain stood a man’s shape- NO -the shape of a Golem! He was smoking, facing away from me. When I saw the uniformed man next to him, the Garden Apartment screamed out to me, but I stopped myself.
My Dad told me that Rabbi Judah Loew created the Golem to protect people like us. He used to say he wished we’d had the Golem around when my Ma got taken away. I took a good long look at that man beside Benowitz. No star in sight, but he did have a hat with big shiny panels plus some sort of staff.
Not how I pictured a wizard. But then again. I’ve never seen one in real life.
Right up until they turned around, I was unsure. But when I saw those wide smiles on each of their faces I knew everything was going to be ok.
Chilling and thought provoking. Very cleverly written.