Two outsiders discover the solution to a problem can sometimes take on a life of its own.
 

Benny had always been a strange kid, so when Jacob found him by the riverbank, coated in muck, he wasn’t too surprised.

“Whatcha working on there, Benny?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t told me yet.”

Benny knelt down and scooped up a squishy armful of red clay and perflumped it on top of an already-sizable mound beside him. It was nearly as tall as Benny, who was just under five feet high in shoes.

Jacob cocked his head to one side. “You’re making whatever it is. Shouldn’t you be the one who decides what it’s going to be?”

“Naw, it doesn’t work like that. I could do it on my own, but it wouldn’t come out right in the end. It’s better this way.”

“So, you just came down here this morning and decided to make a mountain of mud?”

“No, I came here to fish, then the clay called out to me. ‘Benny,’ it said, ‘take me and start building.’”

This was stranger than average, even for Benny. “It called to you? You mean, out loud?”

“I heard the words inside my head. You gonna just stand there flapping your mouth, or are you gonna help me?”

Jacob thought about it for a minute. He could pitch in with Benny and get coated with slimy, smelly, Georgia mud, or he could head back home and probably get beat up by the Bolton boys somewhere along the way. His jaw and ribs still ached from the last time.

He rolled up his sleeves and started packing more clay onto Benny’s pile.

After an hour or so of the two boys’ combined effort, the mound was the size of a tall man, and Jacob had to stand on tiptoe to add more clay to the top. “I can’t reach any higher, Benny,” he said, simultaneously wiping sweat from his forehead and adding a rusty smear to it.

“That’s high enough. I know what to do with it now.”

“Is it talking again? I didn’t hear anything.”

“It talks inside my head. I told you that already. Go find a couple of sticks and some sharp rocks. We’ve got to shape it now.”

“Shape it into what?”

“A man. It wants to look like a man.”

“This is sounding creepy, Benny. I don’t think we should be doing this.”

Benny’s eyes flashed. “We have to do it. It’s important.”

“It’s a pile of mud, Benny. What could be so important?”

“It says it’s important, and I believe it. I’ll finish it myself if I have to.”

Jacob stared at Benny, wondering if his friend had finally lost his marbles. Talking mud...it was nuts. This sort of thing had made Benny an outcast. It was hard enough for both of them, being Jewish in a backwoods town full of Baptists, but acting weird on top of that would surely get you pounded, or worse.

Benny didn’t have any friends, except Jacob. Jacob sighed, and trotted off in search of the improvised sculpting tools.

The two boys spent the next hour carving on the mound of clay, Benny confidently slicing through the soft, wet mass, Jacob picking at it tentatively, at Benny’s direction. Benny would stop from time to time and stare off into space—listening, Jacob presumed, to the voice inside the mud. Sometimes he would murmur softly, “Yes, I see,” or “I understand, don’t worry.”

The mound slowly began to take the shape of a squat, humanoid figure. It stood bent forward a little, thick arms hanging at its sides, hands balled into fists. Its legs were almost as big around as Jacob’s body, and its feet were broad, with round, stubby toes. The face on the round, bald head was nearly featureless. A pair of shallow depressions lay roughly where the eyes should be, a lump of clay served as a nose and little flat mud pies for ears.

Benny scratched a deep gash, a suggestion of a mouth, across the lower part of the statue’s face, then stood back to look the figure over appraisingly.

“Not bad, considering we both stink at art. Yes, I think it’ll do.”

“I don’t like it, Benny,” Jacob whispered. “It looks like some kind of monster.”

“It’s not a monster,” Benny replied firmly. “It’s a soldier.”

“Did it tell you that, too?”

“No, it just said it wanted to be a man, but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a soldier. You got any paper?”

Jacob rummaged around in his pockets, came up with some string and a gum wrapper. He held the wrapper out to Benny. “Just this.”

Benny took the wrapper, examined it, and nodded solemnly. “Good enough.” He pulled a stubby pencil from his pocket and began scrawling letters on the paper.

Jacob leaned closer to get a better look. “What are you doing now?”

“Writing. It’s what comes next. I’ve got to get the letters just right. Here, what do you think—did I get enough curve on the yodh?”

“The what?” Jacob snatched the paper out of Benny’s hand. The color drained from his face. “Benny, that’s...that’s...you’re not ever supposed to write this out. It’s holy, it’s...”

“God’s name. I know. But it’s got to come alive now, and this is the only way to do it.”

“No, you can’t. Rabbi Jepthah told me the story once. About the golem. He said it was a bad thing. It was supposed to help people, but it was evil magic and only hurt everyone in the end.”

“It will help this time. It told me so. I’m tired of getting picked on and beat up, just because I’m different. Aren’t you?”

Jacob didn’t have an answer. He just knew it was wrong. “Benny, we can’t!”

“I’m too small to do anything about it,” Benny said, resolutely, “but he’s big enough, and he says he’ll stop them from hurting us ever again.” He walked over to the statue and jammed the wrapper into its mouth.

The golem quivered, began to stir.

Jacob watched in horror as Benny, a quiet little smile on his face, bent down and picked up a heavy chunk of wood lying nearby. It looked long enough and strong enough to serve the creature as a club. He placed it into the golem’s flexing hands and stood back, admiring his handiwork.

“There, it’s done.”

“What’s done?” a familiar, sneering voice called out from behind them. Jacob spun around to find his nightmare redoubled.

It was the Bolton boys—Billy, Ross, and Nate. Billy was the oldest, a tub of lard a year older than Jacob and Benny, but he was too stupid to be the leader. That role fell to Ross, a skinny, acid-tongued jerk that Jacob could probably have beaten in a fair fight. The youngest brother, mop-haired Nate...well, Nate was almost as weird as Benny. He had a penchant for spouting off Bible verses as he helped Billy and Ross torment their chosen targets.

But there was something different today. Following along behind the Boltons was Grace Barnett, the Baptist preacher’s daughter, wearing a Braves cap, plaid shirt, and jeans, her usual attire outside church. Jacob’s heart fell. He’d carried a secret torch for Grace since he first saw her, and to see her in tow with his worst enemies just added insult to injury.

Ross grinned wolfishly. “Well, looky here...Glass Jaw Jake and Itty Bitty Benny are makin’ mud pies. Surely that can’t be kosher.”

“The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt,” Nate chimed in.

“That there’s a statue, Ross,” Billy mumbled, staring dully at the golem through half-lidded eyes.

“I know what it is, lummox. I say we make them eat it.”

“I don’t think statues are s’posed to move, Ross. That one’s movin’.”

Nate pointed a shaky finger at the golem. “It’s just like in Revelations! He had power to give life unto the image of the beast! They’re in league with the Devil!”

Benny’s eyes were glowing with maniacal hatred. He leaped atop a nearby rock, brandishing a stick like an officer’s sword. “There, golem! There are your enemies! Attack!”

“Benny, no!” Jacob shouted. “You can’t do this! It’s murder!

The golem slogged menacingly toward the Boltons, club raised. Jacob thought the trio would break and run, but Ross grabbed his brothers by the collar, holding them in a tight bunch.

“That thing don’t move very fast, Benny-boy. What’s to stop us from fetching the police?”

“The golem is relentless,” Benny sneered. “He’ll never stop chasing you. He’ll find you, he’ll pound you into hamburger, and you won’t hurt us or anybody else again. Nothing can stop him—not you, not the police, not even the National Guard.”

In desperation, Jacob jumped between the golem and the Bolton boys, though his primary concern was to shield Grace, who seemed to be in a state of shock, her eyes unfocused, mouth agape. “I won’t let you do this, Benny!” he declared. “It’s wrong. You’re acting just like them.”

The golem stopped, letting out a short moan and looking from Jacob to Benny. Benny shook his head. “Get out of the way, Jacob. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

Jacob shivered, but stood his ground. “I’m not moving, Benny.”

“Go ahead, Benny, hurt ‘im good,” Ross said, “Save us the trouble.”

“Before you unleash that creature, Benny, I want to ask the Bolton boys a question.” Everyone turned to look at Grace, who was now perched on a fallen log, stepping carefully along it with her arms extended, like a tight-wire artist, as if nothing unusual was happening.

Ross ignored her. “Y’know, I think we’ll just run around this walking dirt clod and whup ol’ Benny-boy directly. Hard to give orders with your teeth kicked in.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Boys are so stupid. There’s a better way to settle this...a way that won’t kill people or break things.”

“I think we should let the lady speak her piece,” rumbled Billy.

He smiled shyly at Grace, who favored him with a nod. “Thank you, Billy.”

Ross shrugged. “All right, I’m listening. But hurry up, we got some heads to smash here.”

Grace clasped her hands behind her, addressing the Boltons like a patient schoolmarm. “Which God is stronger, the Christian God or the Jewish God?”

“There’s only one,” Jacob muttered.

“Hush, Jacob,” hissed Grace. “Ross, who’s stronger?”

“That’s a dumb question. Our God is.”

“Through the greatness of thy power shall thine enemies submit themselves unto thee,” Nate chanted in agreement.

“Very well, then,” Grace said, “let’s have a competition. You boys make a statue like the one Benny and Jacob made, and we’ll let both creations fight it out. Winner gets bragging rights, and nobody gets pounded. Is that all right with you, Benny?”

“Fine by me. I’d like to see those three lunkheads try to raise a golem.”

“Ross?”

“It ain’t fair. We don’t know witchcraft.”

“It’s not witchcraft!” Benny protested, “It’s the power of God!”

Grace turned to Jacob. “How did Benny make the statue come to life?”

“You won’t believe it. It sounds crazy.”

“We have a living statue here, Jacob. Can’t get much crazier.”

“All right. He wrote God’s name in Hebrew letters on a piece of paper and fed it to the golem, but Benny said the clay was talking to him before...”

“So,” Grace moved on briskly, “I expect that for a Christian, the proper verse from the Bible would do the same, wouldn’t you agree, Nate? Or don’t y’all believe in the power of God?”

“The Word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword,” Nate declared proudly. Ross didn’t object. In Jeff Davis County, the only thing worse than an atheist was a communist. Billy just gazed at Grace with an expression of reverent awe.

Grace smiled. “It’s settled then. Benny, you, Jacob, and your...friend, stand over yonder. Bolton boys, get started.”

The three bullies set to work, reluctantly at first, but with growing enthusiasm as the clay began to take shape. Billy did the heavy lifting, Nate provided the detail work, and Ross barked orders to the other two. Their sculpture was less blocky than Benny and Jacob’s, the curves smoother and more human-like.

Benny gleefully monitored their progress, shouting less-than-helpful advice every now and then, as if he were the prophet Elijah taunting the priests of Baal on Mount Carmel. The golem stood silently beside Benny, occasionally shifting its weight from side to side, any thoughts that might be contained inside its lumpish head, unfathomable.

Jacob, meanwhile, watched with a sense of impending doom, as he imagined all the nasty things that would probably happen after the Boltons finished and their statue remained lifeless.

“They’re really quite good at this,” Grace whispered in Jacob’s ear.

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “What? Oh...yeah, I guess so. Who’d have thought they could do anything besides beat people up?”

“Maybe they just needed a bit of encouragement. I like to think there’s a little good in everybody.”

“I don’t see the point of this,” Jacob sighed, “You know it isn’t going to work.”

“We’ll see. Nobody’s head has been bashed in yet, so that’s a plus.”

“True. But, why...why are you here, anyhow?” I didn’t think the Boltons were your sort of crowd.”

“Nate saw the two of you walk into the forest this morning, and I overheard him telling his brothers. I’m tired of their bullying ways, and I thought I might be able to stop them from hurting you.” Grace paused. “That is, you and Benny,” she added hurriedly.

Was she blushing? It had to be some trick of the light. “Thanks,” Jacob said. “I think you’ve only delayed the beating, but I appreciate you trying.”

She smiled. “I also thought it was sweet the way you tried to protect me when...oh, I think they’ve finished. Here comes Ross.”

Ross trotted up to Grace and Jacob, his brothers ambling in trail. “Thing’s done.” He looked over his shoulder at the statue with a satisfied grin. “Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Looks a dang sight better than Benny’s pile of mud.”

“Anybody can make a clay doll,” Benny jeered. “Let’s see you losers bring it to life.”

Ross snapped his fingers. “Nate. Gimme the verse.”

“This’ll need clergy, Ross,” Nate replied, shaking his head, “It’s a spiritual work. Bible says, ‘the priest's lips should keep knowledge, and they should seek the law at his mouth.’”

“Ain’t no preachers or deacons out here in the forest, Nate. You’ll have to do.”

Billy scratched his head, as if trying to dig out a thought, then his face lit up. “Grace’s dad’s a preacher. Could she write it out?”

“That’s not fair!” shouted Benny, “You can’t help them!”

“Nonsense,” Grace sniffed, “I’m just taking dictation. Besides, Nate’s handwriting is simply awful.”

She pulled a little notepad and pencil from her back pocket and began writing in an elegant, looping hand as Nate recited: “And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. Genesis, chapter two, verses six through eight.”

“That’s not fair!” Benny hollered again, “It’s from the Torah!”

“King James Version,” Ross snapped, “That ain’t Jewish.”

Jacob shrugged. “He’s got a point, Benny.”

Benny growled, but gave no further protest. Grace tore off the page where she’d written the verse and handed it to Ross, who carried it over to his statue and pushed the paper into its curving grimace of a mouth.

The new golem quivered and stretched, emitting a low, rumbling groan. Benny’s golem moaned in reply and lifted its club.

The Bolton boys hooted and hollered, exchanging handshakes and backslaps, while Benny glowered in silence. Jacob stared, dumbfounded, at the sight of two golems facing each other across the clearing.

Grace took a position midway between the golems and off to one side, waving a white handkerchief. “All right, we have our two warriors. When I drop this hankie, Benny and Ross will order them to attack. Last fighter standing is the winner. Ready?”

“Ready!”

“Ready!”

The handkerchief fluttered to the ground.

“Charge!” Benny shouted.

“Get ‘im!” Ross yelled.

The two golems plunged at each other like sumo wrestlers, meeting at the center of the clearing with a sodden thump. Rather than swinging their fists, they grappled, bodies intertwined, as Benny and the Boltons screamed orders for various gruesome acts of dismemberment and mayhem. Jacob looked on in mingled awe and terror. The creatures seemed evenly matched, Benny’s a little broader and stronger-looking, the Boltons’ longer-limbed and nimbler.

Suddenly, the golems broke off their wrestling match, clasped hands, and bounded away through the forest at a remarkable speed.

“Noooo!” Benny wailed. “Come back here, you cowards!”

Ross stared at the departing golems in slack-jawed confusion. “What the—what just happened? Why ain’t they fighting?”

Benny ran after them. “They’re headed toward the quarry!” he called back over his shoulder. “I know a short cut! Come on...we can still finish this!”

“C’mon you two, after ‘em!” Ross ordered. The Boltons sprinted after Benny, quickly disappearing into the trees.

Grace giggled and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Oh, that was perfect! Perfect! Did you see that, Jacob? Wasn’t it wonderful?”

Jacob sat down on a stump, his head spinning. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? How did you know?”

Grace joined Jacob on the stump, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “I was scared at first, when I saw Benny’s golem, then I heard a voice calling to me from down by the riverbank, and she told me what I needed to do.”

“She? You don’t mean...”

“That’s right. The Boltons made a girl golem. They didn’t mean to, it was just the nature of the life inside it. Those two poor things didn’t want to fight each other, they just wanted to be together.

“It was true love,” she concluded dreamily.

Jacob shuddered. “That kind of love I can do without. What do you suppose will happen when Benny and the others catch up to them?”

“Oh, I doubt they’ll catch up. Judging by how quick they took off, those creatures can move pretty fast when they want to. The boys will get tired eventually, then they’ll come back.”

“But then it’ll just start all over again. Benny and the Boltons will make more golems, and eventually they’ll find a couple that will fight.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Grace looked toward the river, brow furrowed. “It’s quiet now. Whatever life God left in this riverbank is all used up. No telling how long it’s been there, just waiting for someone to pull it out of the mud and give it substance.”

“Which leaves the Boltons nothing to bash except Benny and me,” Jacob sighed.

“They seemed to enjoy the sculpture. Maybe I can encourage them to turn their orneriness into something more useful. I’m sure Billy will listen to me.”

“No doubt,” Jacob chuckled. “It’ll be harder to convince Benny that everybody in this town isn’t out to get him.”

“They aren’t. You’ve got more friends here than you realize. It just takes folks a while to warm up, and it helps if you meet them halfway.”

“Seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

Grace straightened her cap. “I usually do.”

“So what do we do until everybody comes back?”

“I think the golems had the right idea.” Grace stood up and held out her hand to Jacob. “Want to walk me home? I could swear I hear a dish of ice cream calling us.”

Jacob took Grace’s hand. He was still splotched with mud, but she didn’t seem to mind.

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