A letter regarding the power of letters

Tobias Rothman
12006 Houston Street
New York, NY 10016

Dear Mr. Rothman,

Please allow me to first state that this letter is intended only for the eyes of Mr. Rothman. If you are a friend, associate, business acquaintence or family member of said gentleman, I urge you to put this letter down now and deliver it to him forthwith. I will not be held responsible for any damage that may come to your life after you read my story, but rest assured, once you know of these things your world will change in ways you cannot imagine.

At the very least, I assume I now have your attention, sir. I should begin with an introduction. In fact, this letter shall serve as little more than an introduction. It is my intention to begin a correspondence so that we might share information and perhaps meet one day soon when my business brings me to Manhattan (as it often does).

I was referred to you by Mr. Shelton Rabin, with whom I believe you are quite well acquainted. I understand that in addition to being one of the finest sources of diamonds in the United States, you are something of an expert in matters regarding the Kaballah and mysticism as well as other occult matters. It is upon this subject that I write to you.

Matters of the occult are not unknown to me. I grew up in a small schtedle in Poland where I learned the Torah as a matter of course and the secrets of Kaballah at my father’s side. Though I found the mystic teachings of our People interesting, I never thought that I might find a practical use for such skills. Then my brother Hyram and I went to war.

At first the war was like any other. We were trained in combat and learned the art of pugilism from our bunk mates even as the officers tried to drill us in other forms of hand to hand combat. I myself found that a pistol felt as natural in my hand as the Talmud.

One night found Hyram and I as the last surviving members of our unit, deep inside enemy territory. We knew then that we had no hope of survival. Yet we remembered the teachings of the Kaballah. We went to a local stream and there we found clay. Using certain methods that I’m certain you know as well as I, we fashioned the clay into the form of a man and upon his brow we wrote in Hebrew the word for truth, “Emet.” (Damn these American typewriters! What I wouldn’t do to have the holy letters upon these keys.) I must admit that we were nearly surprised when the golem actually stood up, ready to protect us from our enemies. And protect us it did. Before that day I thought that I had seen war, but I had never seen violence such as this. The creature’s strength was inhuman and without a soul there was no limit to the amount of harm the beast lay upon our enemies’ bodies. But when there was no one left the fight, the monster turned on its masters.

We ran all night trying to evade the creature, but as dawn rose over the mountains it caught up to us, lifting Hyram off the ground by his throat. I had no choice but to destroy the creature. And so I lifted my pistol (with only one bullet left, mind you) and took careful aim on the letters we had inscribed on the creature’s forehead. I shot the first letter, the Aleph, thus changing the word “Emet” (“truth”) to “Meit” (“dead”). The golem was no more and my brother yet lived.

But from that point on, I could not avoid the things that walk unseen in our world. It was as if summoning that magic had left a mark upon me. Even here in America it finds me. I have since married as has my brother. We live in Oklahoma City, having joined one of the Land Runs, you see. If you are not aware (as many outside of this young state are not), the Land Runs were executed to encourage settlement in this area that was at the time Indian territory and not even a state. Families and individuals lined up on a marker, each of holding a handful of wooden stakes and measured lengths of rope along with all our other worldly possession. A gunshot rang out and we ran to use our stakes and rope to measure out a parcel of land. A parcel of land that is our own to do with as we will. Hyram and I have built a fine house for our families and I am proud to say that our habidashery, Sir’s London Shoppe, is the finest in town. We’ve recently built a deck raised above the sales floor so that we can keep an eye on our customers and our sales people.

But I digress, sir. I am contacting you to enquire about certain symbols I have seen upon the body of a creature words cannot describe. I hope that you will write me back soon so that we can begin a dialogue on matters beyond the mortal world. Perhaps we will both learn answers to questions that have plagued us for far too long.

Sincerely yours,

Gus A. Paul


P.S. I would also like to discuss the purchase of a small portion of diamonds from you. I would like to present my lovely wife, Birdie, with a necklace and earrings that she might wear for certain social events. I am certain that in time the jewels will be handed down to our children and their children, perhaps making their way into wedding rings and the like as jewels so often do.