Beware!

by R. L. Stine

  We Jews all need to be lions these days. We all need courage. Because the people here in the city of Prague treat us cruelly.

  Yes, the emperor allows us to do business with his people. And yes, he allows us to walk the streets of Prague freely during the day.

  But the Jews have a curfew. We must return to our homes in the ghetto by dark. If we are found outside our houses, we are arrested and dragged away.

  My house is tiny and falling down. My three brothers and I share one room. They are younger than me and like to play and make noise. My sisters are always singing and laughing in the next room. I cannot find a quiet place to study.

  I am the hotheaded one in my family. I am always the one who starts the fights with my little brothers. My mother says it is because I am a redhead. My temper is as fiery as my hair. So sometimes I complain to the Rabbi. “Why must we be forced to live on these dark, dirty streets, in these cramped, run-down houses? We have no room to breathe!”

  He sighs, and I see the sadness in those deep, dark eyes.

  “Jacob, it does little good to complain,” he replies. “We live as well as other people.”

  But lately, he knows that isn’t true. Everyone knows the danger we are in.

  The ugly rumors have started again. People spread them all over the city.

  Evil people say that the Jews kill Gentile babies. That we need their blood to make the flat bread that we eat for Passover.

  The rumors are a crazy lie. Of course we do not kill babies. We love babies. We do not use blood to bake our bread.

  When I heard the rumors were starting again, I became so angry, I nearly exploded. I slammed my fist into the thin wall of my room. I wanted to scream and cry out my anger.

  I ran to Rabbi Levi’s house. He tried to calm me down. “The rumors will pass, Jacob,” he said softly, stroking his beard. “Only fools would believe such lies.”

  But then the rock throwing began. Chanting ugly lies, people set fire to one of our stores. A man was beaten on his way to the temple to pray.

  Even the Rabbi had to admit that our lives were in danger.

  “Rabbi Levi, we must get together and fight back!” I cried.

  He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Jacob,” he said, “it is not our way.”

  “Then what can we do?” I demanded.

  He stroked his beard thoughtfully and did not reply. He paced back and forth in his small study like a caged lion. Soon, he was thinking so hard, he did not even remember that I was in the room.

  Imagine my surprise when he sent for me late the next night. Imagine my amazement—and my horror—at what he had decided to do.

  The messenger told me to meet the Rabbi in the town square. He told me to bring a pack of old clothes, the biggest clothes I could find.

  “But it is the middle of the night,” I whispered, afraid of awakening my three brothers, who shared my bed. “Why does Rabbi Levi wish to see me now?”

  The messenger raised a finger to his lips and motioned for me to hurry.

  It was a cold, foggy night. The wind howled around the hunched houses of the ghetto, making shutters bang and walls creak and groan.

  I gripped my bundle of old clothes tightly and ran through the cobbled street. It had rained earlier in the day, and my shoes splashed in deep puddles, sending waves of cold water up my pants legs.

  By the time I reached the town square, my heart was pounding. Through the fog, I saw two figures approaching.

  I held my breath. If these were the emperor’s men, I’d be in terrible trouble. Jews weren’t allowed out at this time of night.

  I let out a sigh of relief when I recognized Rabbi Levi and my friend Isaac. Isaac is big and strong and very quiet. He studies very hard and seldom smiles. My jokes never make him laugh.

  I opened my mouth to speak. But Rabbi Levi silenced me with a shake of his head. Then I realized that in his hands he carried the sacred Torah, the scrolls of Jewish wisdom and laws. “Follow me,” he whispered.

  Ducking our heads against the wind, we moved silently between the dark houses. The only sound was the soft splash of our shoes on the rain-wet street.

  As we neared the river, I began to shiver. Not just because my coat was thin and the wind was cold. My fear grew with every step. I could not help thinking of the trouble that would follow if we were caught.

  I could hear the gentle lapping of the river waters against the shore. The ground became soft. Our shoes sank into the clay of the riverbank.

  The fog swirled around us, blanketing the rest of the world from view. Such an eerie silence. Such a tingling cold. I felt as if I were walking in a dream.

  “We shall stop here,” the Rabbi said suddenly.

  He carefully set down the holy Torah scrolls and dropped to his knees. Isaac and I dropped down beside him.

  Without another word, Rabbi Levi dug his hands into the soft clay. He motioned for us to dig alongside him.

  Even in the foggy darkness, I could see the light in the Rabbi’s eyes. They burned like bright flames against the black night.

  As I bent to the ground, the wind ruffled my coat, chilling the back of my neck. My hands trembled, but I forced them deep into the cold, wet clay.

  Why were we digging? I dared not ask.

  The Rabbi told us how to mold the clay. We were making a shape. But what kind of shape? I did not know.

  “Ohh.” I let out a gasp as I saw a figure begin to form. I saw arms and legs, a broad trunk, a head, long arms and legs.

  It was as if the figure had risen up from the earth itself.

  Shaking in fright, I stumbled back. Isaac remained bent over, his hands working the clay.

  I gazed down at the clay figure—a huge man, on his back, eyes closed as if asleep.

  “Rabbi, what are we doing?” I choked out.

  Rabbi Levi didn’t answer. He stood up, his eyes still aflame, and turned to Isaac. “Isaac, circle the shape seven times, right to left,” he instructed. “And chant these words as you walk.”

  I watched as Isaac began to move around the clay figure, chanting the words the Rabbi told him. The fog seemed to thicken. Isaac looked as if he were a ghost, circling the clay, whispering to himself.

  At last, Isaac stopped. I uttered a cry as the figure in the ground began to glow. Brighter. Brighter. Until it glowed as red as the brightest fire.

  What magic is this? I wondered, frozen in fear and amazement.

  Then I felt Rabbi Levi’s strong hand grip my trembling shoulder. “Jacob,” he whispered. “Circle the shape seven times, left to right.” He told me the words to chant.

  I was shaking so hard, I had to force my legs to move. Slowly at first, then faster, I began to circle the glowing mud creature.

  When I stopped, my chest was heaving. Despite the cold, clinging fog, my forehead was sweating.

  To my shock, the glow from the figure faded quickly. Steam hissed from the body. Water spouted from the clay like a fountain.

  First fire, then water. And now black hair curled from the figure’s head! I watched in awe as nails stretched from the fingers and toes.

  “Rabbi—what is happening?” I finally found my voice.

  “What have we done here?” Isaac asked. I could see the fear on his normally calm face.

  “Do not be afraid,” Rabbi Levi whispered. Then he bent over the figure. He poked his finger into the clay of its forehead. And he wrote “EMET,” the Hebrew word for truth.

  “Come,” the Rabbi instructed. He lifted the Torah scrolls into his arms. And then he led us in a slow dance, seven times around the clay creature.

  When we stopped, the Rabbi quoted from the Book of Genesis: “And the Lord God . . . breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”

  And the creature . . . the creature . . . it opened its eyes!

  I couldn’t stop myself. I let out a scream.

  My cry was muffled by the thick fog that circled us. And by the groaning of the creature’s arms and
legs as he climbed to his feet.

  “We have created a golem,” the Rabbi stated.

  A golem. A man who was not a man. A living creature who was not alive!

  “Jacob, hand him the clothing,” Rabbi Levi instructed.

  But I was trembling so hard, the bundle fell from my hands. Slowly, silently, the golem bent to pick up the clothing. Quickly, he covered himself with it.

  Isaac and I stumbled back. The golem was a giant. He rose up over us like a mountain. His eyes glowed like black coals. He clenched and unclenched his fists, as if testing them.

  Isaac and I couldn’t hide our terror. Only Rabbi Levi stood unafraid. “Golem!” he shouted up to the creature. “We have created you for one purpose—to help the Jews. You can hear but you cannot speak. You are stronger than any man. But you will use your power only at my command. You are my servant, golem. Do you understand my words?”

  In reply, the golem bowed low to the Rabbi.

  Rabbi Levi reached out and touched the word “EMET” on the golem’s forehead. The word faded into his gray flesh. The golem stood up straight again, waiting silently for his next command.

  Rabbi Levi turned to Isaac and me. He suddenly looked very tired. Wisps of wet fog clung to his beard. “No one must know what we have done here tonight,” he whispered. “No one.”

  “But how will we hide such a giant?” I asked.

  “We will not hide him,” the Rabbi replied. “We will call him by the name of Joseph. I will tell everyone that I found him wandering the streets. I will take him into my house as a servant.”

  A red morning sun peeked over the hills. Rabbi Levi ordered the golem to follow, and we began walking toward town. The giant’s heavy, plodding footsteps seemed to shake the earth. His dark eyes stared straight ahead—sad, inhuman eyes. We had to run to keep up with him.

  Can such a giant truly be controlled? I wondered. I know the Rabbi is wise. But has he made a horrifying mistake tonight?

  The next afternoon was bright and sunny. A cool wind brushed against my face as I made my way to the Rabbi’s house. I carried my heavy books in a bag that bounced on my shoulders.

  I stopped at the front door. What would I find inside? Would the golem still be there? Would he still be alive?

  The Rabbi’s wife opened the door and led me to Rabbi Levi’s study. She shook her head and muttered to herself. “Strangers he brings into the house. Strangers who do not even speak.”

  Sure enough, I saw the golem sitting on a stool in a corner of the study. His huge hands rested in his lap. He stared straight ahead, not moving a muscle.

  Rabbi Levi closed the door behind us and turned to me. “Are you ready for your studies, Jacob?”

  “Yes, Rabbi.” I sat down and began to empty my books onto the table. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the golem.

  Rabbi Levi rubbed his beard and gazed at the golem too. “Perhaps it is time to send Joseph outside.”

  He stepped up to the golem. “Joseph,” he said. “Stand up.”

  Still staring straight ahead, the giant creature rose quickly to his feet. He had to bow his head. The ceiling was too low.

  “Joseph, you will go out and search the streets,” the Rabbi ordered. “You will watch for trouble. You will protect our people in any way you can. You will return at sundown.”

  The golem didn’t nod his head or blink his eyes or give any sign that he understood. He stepped past us and lumbered out of the room. I heard the front door slam behind him.

  I jumped to my feet. “Rabbi, can I follow him?” I asked. “Can I see where Joseph goes?”

  Rabbi Levi motioned for me to sit back down. “Jacob, the golem has his job, and you have yours. Your job is to study and become wise.”

  I slumped back into my seat and opened my study book. The Rabbi began his lecture, but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about the giant—the giant I had helped create—and wondering what he was doing.

  When my lessons were over, I thanked the Rabbi and ran out to the street. The sun had disappeared behind clouds, and the air had turned cold. My heart thudded as I made my way through the crowded, narrow streets toward the town square.

  After a minute or two, I heard angry shouts and saw a small crowd of people in front of the tailor’s shop. As I came closer, I saw the tailor, red-faced, shaking his fists furiously at a tall, blond man wearing a long, brown coat.

  “I made the coat for you, and now you must pay for it!” the tailor screamed, spitting the words in the man’s face.

  The blond man backed away, a grin on his face. “Pay a Jew?” he sneered. “You are lucky that I gave you work to keep you busy.” The big coat flapping behind him, he pushed two men out of his way and stomped down the street.

  But he didn’t get far. The golem suddenly stepped from behind a building and blocked the blond man’s path.

  The crowd gasped in surprise. The tailor’s mouth dropped open.

  Joseph gazed down at the blond man blankly. He clenched and unclenched his big fists.

  The blond man appeared lost inside Joseph’s broad shadow. “L-let me pass,” he stammered.

  Joseph moved quickly, so quickly the crowd gasped again.

  He grabbed the blond man and lifted him off the ground. Then, without any trouble at all, he turned the man upside down and began to shake him.

  He shook him until the man’s moneybag fell from his pocket and clattered onto the street. Joseph raised the struggling man high in one hand. Then he bent and tossed the moneybag to the tailor.

  “Let me down! How dare you! Let me down!” The man struggled, kicking and thrashing his arms in the air.

  Joseph let him down by tossing him through the air. The man thudded into a store wall across the street and fell to the pavement, groaning and moaning in pain.

  The crowd waited until the man staggered dizzily away. Then everyone burst into applause and cheers for Joseph. They tried to clap him on the back. But they couldn’t reach high enough.

  The golem didn’t seem to notice their excitement. He had his eyes on the sky. He saw that the sun was setting. He walked through the cheering crowd and lumbered obediently back toward the Rabbi’s house.

  In the next few weeks, I followed Joseph whenever I could. I stayed in the shadows and watched as he strode through the streets, dark eyes narrowed, hands lowered to his sides.

  His expression wasn’t angry. He didn’t even appear alert. He moved as if he were sleepwalking. But when there was a problem, when one of the emperor’s people tried to mistreat a Jew, Joseph sprang to action.

  Some men were chanting angrily and throwing rocks at a Jewish store. Joseph stepped up to them and banged their heads together so hard, they whimpered like dogs as they staggered away. The next day, he lifted two thieves, one in each hand, and carried them to the police station.

  After a short while, the streets became quiet. All was peaceful. Everyone knew that the silent giant was on patrol.

  The golem was a hero. At home, my three brothers pretended to be Joseph. They strutted around the house, acting like giants, throwing each other around.

  But the peaceful times did not last long. The ugly rumors did not stop.

  Ignorant, hateful people still claimed that Jews killed Gentile babies for their blood. We heard rumors that the emperor’s soldiers planned to attack our ghetto.

  One cold, blustery evening, I followed Joseph along the cobbled streets. Wrapping my thin coat around me, I lowered my head against a strong gust of wind.

  When I raised my head, I saw that Joseph had walked up to a Gentile peddler’s cart. The cart was covered by a canvas sheet. And as Joseph approached, the peddler, a short, fat man with a round, bald head, stepped away.

  “What do you want?” he cried, staring up angrily at Joseph. “I have heard about you. Stay away from me. I am an honest peddler.”

  Joseph plucked the peddler aside as if he were a feather. Then he reached for the canvas cover on the cart.

  “Stay away from there!�
�� the peddler screamed. “I sell only apples and dried fruits. There is nothing there for you!” He tried to pull the giant away. But, of course, he hadn’t the strength.

  Joseph tore away the cover. He bent over the cart and picked up a large box.

  “Put that down! Put that down! I shall call the police!” the peddler whined.

  Joseph raised the lid of the box.

  Even from across the street, I could see clearly the contents of the box. My stomach lurched. I tried to cry out in horror, but only a tiny squeak escaped my mouth.

  A baby. A dead baby.

  The peddler was going to sneak it into the house of a Jew. And then the Jew would be blamed for killing a baby. And the emperor’s soldiers would attack all of us.

  My whole body was still trembling from the sight of that poor, pale little corpse. I leaned against the building to keep from falling over.

  Across the street, the fat peddler tried to run away. But Joseph was too fast for him. He easily lifted the peddler off the ground and plopped him into the cart. Then he raised the whole cart over his head.

  People came out of shops and houses to watch the amazing sight. Practically everyone in the ghetto followed the golem as he carried the peddler, the dead baby, and the cart. And dropped them at the police station.

  Joseph was surrounded by cheering people. Once again, he was a hero. But he didn’t seem to care. His expression remained as blank as ever. I watched him make his way back to the Rabbi’s house as he did every evening.

  Soon after that night, the emperor sent out a decree to his people. He ordered them to leave the Jews alone.

  Joseph continued to patrol the streets every day. But there was little for him to do. At night, he slumped on his stool in the Rabbi’s study, rested his chin in his hands, and stared blankly at the wall.

  Late one night, Rabbi Levi sent for Isaac and me. “The golem has served us well,” the Rabbi said softly. “Now it is time to put him to rest.”

  Isaac and I were both shocked. After following the golem in the streets day after day, watching his courage and strength, I had come to think of him as a human. But of course he was not human. We had brought him to life from the clay at the riverbank.