At sunset, a group of women storms into the town hall shouting:

“Elders! Hurry! The town is in danger!”

Evron stands as the spokesperson for his colleagues:

“What’s up, women?”

“A band of enraged goys is heading here with bad intentions!”

“Lightning has struck the golden dome of their church and now they blame the Jews for it”, another woman explains.

“According to Stefan Sobreski, they have the intention to bathe all Jewish men of legal age in Bordelaise sauce!”

A premonition of impending catastrophe falls on the wise men of Chelm. They have had very bad experiences related to the Bordelaise sauce. In a bistro of Lublin they were charged an astronomical amount for a chicken a la Bordelaise and, on another occasion, in a French restaurant they ordered a dish called “Escargots bordelaises” ignoring that in French the word ‘escargots’ means snails which, as every Jew knows, are not kosher.

The elders begin to mourn and tear their clothes:

“Oy vey! We’re lost!”

“Completely helpless!”  

“What are we gonna do?”

A woman blurts out indignant: “What are you, a bunch of men or a bunch of cowards?”

“They are not incompatible things”, Feivel answers.

“You have to organize the defense!”, another woman shouts.

“The defence?”, Evron says. “Of course! The defence! Why didn’t I think of that?!” And turning to the women, he reassures them: 

“Don’t worry, women! Let everyone be locked in their homes and close the shutters. Just leave the rest to us.”

“That’s all? Do you think that is going to stop them?!”

“Trust us. Do what I tell you and you will not run any danger.”

Although skeptical, the women run back to their homes. 

The other elders do not seem less skeptical than the women:

“Have you gone mad?! Do you want us to deal with this bloody mob ourselves?! I have dentures, in case you didn’t know!”

Shortly after, the elders are positioned in the middle of the path on the outskirts of the village, next to the cemetery. In the opposite direction, a mob of peasants armed with sticks and huge bowls of Bordelaise sauce come running towards them waving their sticks. 

In direct response to a signal from Evron, the hidden Golem suddenly makes his appearance. The mere sight of him causes the mob to abruptly halt, turn around and run away like a bat out of hell.

“Hurray!”, the elders exclaim in unison and, encircling the Golem, begin to dance the horah (the circle dance typical of Jewish joyous occasions) while the Golem remains impassive in their midst.

But suddenly Chatzkel emits a frightening yell as he points toward the graveyard fence. 

Everyone stops and looks over there. What they see freezes the blood in their veins: a scary-looking little man crosses the gate carrying a skeleton on his back.

This is a non-profit blog whose purpose is to raise funds for children in need. So if you want to make a donation in exchange for this story, click on this link to UNICEF. I really appreciate it!

The dybbuk

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