Sylvester howled in anger and pain as he plunged his arms into the fire and knocked the scrolls out of the flames
Reb Shabsi knew that, sooner or later, he’d break from Sylvester’s constant pressuring. Daily, Sylvester reminded him of his past sins, causing him to doubt whether he had ever been a decent person. The traumatic incident he had been involved in as a young man, the one that changed his life forever, was constantly brought up.
One night, as a fire roared in a fireplace under the open, star-studded sky, Reb Shabsi looked across the flames at Sylvester.
“I’ll make them.”
“What?” Sylvester was so shocked, he momentarily forgot what Reb Shabsi was referring to.
“The golems. I’ll do it….”
The flames crackled over the firewood, spitting and hissing, as tendrils of smoke drifted into the night sky.
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