“So… the boy I thought I killed because of my creation survived after all.” Shabsi stared at Sylvester

P

resently, Shabsi looked up for the first time since he began relating his story. His eyes were flowing freely with tears.

“I caused someone to be killed, don’t you see…” Shabsi croaked. “I was selfish, foolish, and I resolved to live alone for the rest of my life.”

Suddenly, a figure emerged from behind the boulder. It was Sylvester.

“Sorry for eavesdropping. It’s a nasty habit I have… ever since I was a child.” Sylvester grinned. “Thank you for that incredible story, old man. You are quite the orator. Now, you don’t mind if I fill you in on some details, do you?”

Sylvester stepped closer — so close that for the first time, Shimshon could see just how old the evil man was. He hid his wrinkles well on his ghostly face, but Sylvester must have been at least 80 years old….

“See these scars?” Sylvester pointed to his neck and arms. “I still bear the marks from your golem, Shabsi. Nobody thought I could survive my wounds, but I beat the odds, and have been doing just that ever since that fateful night… You changed my life, old man. Changed it forever. But not for the worse — oh, no! — only for the better. You see, once I witnessed, quite personally, I may add, just how powerful the golem creatures are, I knew that one day I would build myself an army of golems that would help me rule the world.”

“So… the boy I thought I killed because of my creation survived after all,” Shabsi stared at Sylvester. “And now I see quite clearly — it would have been better if Pinchas had finished you off then and there.”

“I’m still standing.” Sylvester shrugged. “But you won’t be for long if you don’t cooperate.”