Here is a story about the human perspective of a familiar monster. I kicked around for a few years and fleshed it out. Not sure what the spark was. It seemed more like I was documenting what had happened rather than writing a fiction.
Chapter 1
My mother did not know
that she had been infertile
until the moment that I was born.
My birth was unique.
My mother wore her
locket every day of her life--including the moment that she and my father
joined together so that I would come to grow inside of her. The locket held a tiny, seemingly trivial
note. It was an idea...and an ideal. Etched inside of the golden Magen David (Star
of David) was a single Hebrew word:
"Emet" or in English..."Truth".
The word began with the
letter "Aleph"..the first letter in the Hebrew alphabet. "Mem" is a letter in the center of
the alphabet. And the letter "Tav"
completes the alphabet. Thus, the word
encapsulates written language as a shorthand for all ideas, thoughts and hopes
of Man captured by the written word and the connections that are within.
The written word allows
generations from the past to live on and be heard long after the original life
of the keeper of the word has returned the earth. This is why a book must be treasured for the
sacred object that it is, and if it is burned, it should be mourned for the
profound loss that all of humanity must bear.
But words alone do not
keep the ideas alive...it is the truth behind the words that give the
communication such lasting power. False
or unwise ideas may have initial power, but eventually...the truth is all that
remains. Eons of scrutiny, debate and
passion will filter the truth from the lies...the good from the bad...the hope
from the hopelessness.
Which...apparently, led
to me.
The locket had been a gift to my mother from her mother, who had in turn received it from her mother, my grandmother, my Bubbie. My Bubbie received it from her mother. We do not know how old it is or when it became a part of my family, but now we know why it was made for my ancestors. These matriarchs in my family, who lived their own lives and had their own joys, and obviously their own children, carried the locket for me. It might not have been specifically for me, but these women knew that someday one of their descendants would give birth to a child without a soul, and as a gift to that soulless child they would give that child a chance...the gift of life. The most powerful facet that defines a life is the truth. Or in other words...reality.
For truth is the foundation that all life is built upon. The truth is the only thing worth clinging to, so when a child is born without a soul, a soul can be attracted by a pure and selfless commitment to the truth. Not even these ancestors know where my soul would come from, but they knew that without a solid foundation based on the truth, I would never have walked the Earth.
It would come to be worn by me during all of my days.
The pregnancy had been just like all others, in that all pregnancies are completely unique experiences. When I was born, I was nothing but an unformed lump of clay. My parent's were expecting a child. Their hearts became filled with unconditional love. They had been prepared by generations of tradition, faith and observation of the world as it evolved with our family. It was my grandmother that first realized that after all this time, our family was blessed/cursed with the birth of a genuine golem. And she observed the confusion in the delivery room, for none of the doctors or nurses were prepared to deal with my peculiar entrance into this amazing world.
My mother and father were stunned. There had been a chair for him to sit in. The doctors and nurses has all stepped back in a widening circle of wonder gazing on the formless earth they had removed from my mother. It was my grandmother that kissed my mother's wet forehead. She removed the locket from around her neck, and slipped the locket off of the chain. My grandmother kissed what would soon be my forehead and on that spot placed it firmly but gingerly in the clay. She then closed her eyes, took a deep cleansing breath and said a silent prayer of thanks and hopefulness. She opened her eyes, smiled and stepped back.
It was then that all in the room watched as the soft mud formed itself into a small motionless child. The lights began to fade, and a small warm golden glow began to emanate from the locket on my forehead. They then realized that the lights were not being extinguished, but were being drawn to the amulet. Wispy streams of light flowed to the amulet and then the golden haze began to flow throughout the pile of pulsing, breathing, drying mud on the operating table. All lights were being drawn in streams through the air...the lights on the ceiling...on the wall...on the monitors...on digital watches. All lights. Eventually, all of the light in the room had been absorbed in the locket and the only thing anyone could see was the glowing form of a child. Except for my eyes. My eyes were completely black. No light would ever emanate from them. They only absorbed.
As the golden glow dissipated, my cold, rosie/tan skin became apparent. The clay had dried and I was left with a skin that was both alive and not yet alive. The lights in the room all returned to their previous levels. I was no longer on the table, but I was sleeping silently in my mothers arms, with my eyes closed. From a distance I could have been mistaken for a normal baby. From a distance.
For truth is the foundation that all life is built upon. The truth is the only thing worth clinging to, so when a child is born without a soul, a soul can be attracted by a pure and selfless commitment to the truth. Not even these ancestors know where my soul would come from, but they knew that without a solid foundation based on the truth, I would never have walked the Earth.
It would come to be worn by me during all of my days.
The pregnancy had been just like all others, in that all pregnancies are completely unique experiences. When I was born, I was nothing but an unformed lump of clay. My parent's were expecting a child. Their hearts became filled with unconditional love. They had been prepared by generations of tradition, faith and observation of the world as it evolved with our family. It was my grandmother that first realized that after all this time, our family was blessed/cursed with the birth of a genuine golem. And she observed the confusion in the delivery room, for none of the doctors or nurses were prepared to deal with my peculiar entrance into this amazing world.
My mother and father were stunned. There had been a chair for him to sit in. The doctors and nurses has all stepped back in a widening circle of wonder gazing on the formless earth they had removed from my mother. It was my grandmother that kissed my mother's wet forehead. She removed the locket from around her neck, and slipped the locket off of the chain. My grandmother kissed what would soon be my forehead and on that spot placed it firmly but gingerly in the clay. She then closed her eyes, took a deep cleansing breath and said a silent prayer of thanks and hopefulness. She opened her eyes, smiled and stepped back.
It was then that all in the room watched as the soft mud formed itself into a small motionless child. The lights began to fade, and a small warm golden glow began to emanate from the locket on my forehead. They then realized that the lights were not being extinguished, but were being drawn to the amulet. Wispy streams of light flowed to the amulet and then the golden haze began to flow throughout the pile of pulsing, breathing, drying mud on the operating table. All lights were being drawn in streams through the air...the lights on the ceiling...on the wall...on the monitors...on digital watches. All lights. Eventually, all of the light in the room had been absorbed in the locket and the only thing anyone could see was the glowing form of a child. Except for my eyes. My eyes were completely black. No light would ever emanate from them. They only absorbed.
As the golden glow dissipated, my cold, rosie/tan skin became apparent. The clay had dried and I was left with a skin that was both alive and not yet alive. The lights in the room all returned to their previous levels. I was no longer on the table, but I was sleeping silently in my mothers arms, with my eyes closed. From a distance I could have been mistaken for a normal baby. From a distance.
*************************************************************
The story has an end,
but is not is complete. To read all the chapters, including notes for future
elaboration, please follow the following link:
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