Life in the City
Page 6
by Kelly M. Logue
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On the day the Nazis came to our ghetto to beg for money—Rabbi Loeb was seen gathering clay at the foot of our graveyard. No one questioned his actions. The community simply nodded in agreement and turned a blind eye.
I was the only one who had the curiosity (or perhaps foolishness) to seek answers. The Rabbi showed me in. On a table rested the pale form of a man made of clay. I knew immediately what it was—the Golem of legend—a creature whose very existence is a mockery of man and God. Its cold eyes stared up at us, and betrayed its soulless shell. Here I was, witness to this deformed corruption of man, and I was helpless to turn away. The creature had cast its spell over me.