One of the items tucked in Max’s stash was described as an action figure. My old partner didn’t describe things very well. I opened the box to see a rough shape, which might be considered a foot tall action figure, except it was made out of clay and had indistinct features, especially compared to today’s artistry. It had a pair of eyes and mouth, but its arms and legs ended in rounded stumps instead of hands and feet.
I carefully lifted the figure out using both hands and noticed the clay was still damp, after who knew how many years. I had no information on this particular item, and trying to research a clay figure like this wouldn’t get me anywhere.
After lifting the figure out, I noticed a curled slip of paper nestled with the straw. I unrolled it to see odd-looking letter, like Arabic or Hebrew. Yes, Hebrew, and that sparked enough of a memory of a folktale that I knew what this was. I had never heard of one this small, but why not?
I took the curled slip and placed it in the figure’s mouth.
The clay moved. It stood up on the table where I placed it and looked at me with vacant eyes.
“Can you understand me?” I asked. In the stories, golems were controlled by speaking instructions to it.
It didn’t answer. Idiot. They can’t talk.
“Raise your right arm.”
It stood there.
I pointed to it, then raised my right arm.
It raised its right arm.
“Well, that’s something at least. I’m guessing you weren’t made to be a protector so much as a helper. Bet you could do wonders for household chores.”
It stood there.
“Yeah, the language barrier. All right, time to go back in the box until I can figure that one out.”
I plucked the curled paper from its mouth, and it lost its animation.
I’ll have to work on this. A golem might make for a good protector of this stash, even a little one.