In old Prague, among the narrow streets of the Jewish Quarter, a story is whispered about a powerful creature that once protected the city from danger. It is said that in the 16th century, when darkness and fear surrounded the Jewish community, Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel, also known as the Maharal, decided to use ancient magic to create a protector – the Golem.

The Maharal was a wise and learned man, an expert in Kabbalah and mystical teachings. One night, when the moon shone on the surface of the Vltava River, he decided it was time to act. Accompanied by his closest disciples, he went to the riverbank. The lanterns cast long shadows on the water’s surface as the rabbi began to recite ancient words. His voice was quiet yet firm as he molded the clay from the bottom of the Vltava into the shape of a massive man.

The entire city was enveloped in silence. Even the stars in the sky seemed to hold their breath. Rabbi Loew took a “shem,” a small piece of parchment inscribed with God’s name, and carefully placed it in the mouth of the clay figure. Suddenly, the ground trembled, and light burst forth from the Golem’s body. The clay hands moved, the eyes opened, and the Golem came to life. He stood there, mute and enormous, with eyes glowing like two burning embers.

The Golem began to perform the tasks the rabbi assigned him. Protecting the Jewish town, he became a guardian and protector, before whom every enemy trembled. His strength was incredible, but his obedience was equally terrifying. Without his own mind or emotion, he carried out every wish of his creator with relentless precision.

One day, however, things changed. The Golem, driven by insatiable energy, began to lose control. His massive footsteps echoed through the streets of Prague, and his strength began to threaten even those he was meant to protect. The Maharal knew he had to stop his creation before it was too late.

On Friday evening, just before the start of the Sabbath, when the city was shrouded in silence and calm, the rabbi quietly climbed to the attic of the Old-New Synagogue. With humility and fear, he approached the Golem, who stood motionless in the middle of the dark space. Slowly, with hands trembling from exhaustion and sadness, he removed the “shem” from its mouth. At that moment, the Golem collapsed to the ground, turning back into a heap of clay.

The local residents say that the body of the Golem was stored in the attic of the Old-New Synagogue, where it remains to this day, waiting for the moment it will be called back to life. And when the night wind blows through the streets of Prague and the moonlight dances on the stones of the old houses, it sometimes seems that you can hear the heavy footsteps of the Golem, quietly walking through the city, still protecting those who were entrusted to him.

Such is the legend of the Golem of Prague – a story about a protector made of clay, who lived and perhaps still lives somewhere in the shadows of this ancient city.