Golem (800-word freaky flash fiction) by Oren Shafir

Image from Der Golem film 1920

Heinrich only kept him alive because he amused the men. Eliyahu spoke four languages, and he could tell you the full name, birthday and birthplace of everyone in the camp, be they officer or soldier, Jew or gypsy, communist or dissenter, man, woman or child, alive or dead.

But Eliyahu was an idiot really. A giant idiot, with a coarse and abnormal face, less like man than dog really. He would ramble on incomprehensibly mixing information about errand lists his mother must have given him back in his little Jew village - about what to get at the butcher’s and what to say to the Rabbi - with random passages presumably from the Jewish holy books.

Heinrich saw now from a distance that the poor fool was covered in mud from head to toe and surrounded by guards. That wouldn’t do. There had to be rules. Heinrich may not agree with every order from above, but that didn’t mean he had to tolerate cruelty beyond what was necessary. Not ín his camp.
This moral point of view was something Heinrich considered central to his character. It might have been different if he had not been with his father that time. Seen him struck down by God in the form of a lightning bolt. Thought him dead. And then to see him come back to life. And the fact that his father had confided only with young Heinrich about what he had seen.

A long tunnel, longer than you can imagine, yet as narrow as the eye of a needle. With a light at the end where the Face of God was waiting. And as you travel the tunnel, completely removed from time, you relive all the good and bad deeds of your life. It was the bad deeds that had made an impression on Heinrich though. How each bullying, betrayal, and even  singular inconsiderate action that his father had committed had caused him immeasurable pain to relive, and feel even, from the victim’s point of view. Well, if it had caused so much pain to his father – a good man – then what of a scoundrel?

But then, most of all, at the end of the tunnel was the Face of God. That’s what his father had called it. A presence rich and warm and beautiful beyond mortal understanding. As a result of being a confidante regarding his father’s spiritual experience, Heinrich had little fear of death, and in life, he did not want to be responsible for inflicting unnecessary suffering.

This was why he now barked at his men, “What are you doing to this poor fool?”

“It’s not us Herr Colonel,” one of the men said, suppressing his laughter, “He says he’s building a monster.”

Now Heinrich could indeed see that Eliyahu was building something, the way a child at the beach throws himself wholeheartedly into building a sandcastle. But instead of sand, Eliyahu was using hay, sticks and mud.

He was ranting as usual: When I am ready, I will pronounce the name, and the golem will come to life, and then, the wicked shall suffer, and the truth shall be known. Heinrich had to suppress his own laughter. He was about to order two of the men to drag the idiot out of the mud. But then the giant fool said it:

“And then the Golem will come for you all and that pig, Hitler, will die.”

The air stopped moving. Heinrich could feel the eyes of all his men upon him. There was nothing to be done. The fool must be shot, and if he wanted to keep the respect of his men, he would have to do it himself and right away. Heinrich drew his pistol and headed towards Eliyahu planning to put it to his temple and get it over with quickly.

He pulled his pistol out and started forward quickly, but then stopped moving. Or rather continued moving, but in place. That is, he was literally running in place as his boots slipped in the slick mud. He tried to dig his right heel in and force his way ahead, but instead his leg flew up in the air behind him propelling him forward. Heading for a landing straight forward and face down in the mud, Heinrich instinctively flailed his arms and squeezed his hands. The bullet went straight into his own head.

***

The tunnel was just as his father had described it. Long and as narrow as the eye of a needle and with a light at the end where the Face of God was waiting. Only it wasn’t the face of God.

It was something course and abnormal, its eyes uncanny, less like man than dog and with a face made of hay, sticks and mud.

END

Read another freaky flash by Oren