Originally written for A Very Bookish Celebration, a flash fiction anthology that is no longer available. Each story had to tie in with a holiday and a classic tale. A unique challenge for sure! This is a story about the Jewish holiday Purim and pulls in the biblical book of Esther.
Beware the Wolf
Poland, 1942
Shivers crawled over Riva Beniamin’s skin as Mama placed the covered basket in her hands.
“If anyone stops you, remember, these are just pastries for a friend.” Mama bent her knees so she could gaze into Riva’s eyes. “If they know about Purim, they’ll know you’re just delivering shalach manos. It’s normal. At least not unheard of, even in these times.” Mama’s lips rose in a little smile, and her fingers brushed Riva’s cheek. “You’re a brave girl, resourceful, smart. You’ll have no trouble. It’s just like bringing shalach manos to our friends before the war.”
Riva nodded. “Yes, Mama.” Being eleven, she usually felt very grown-up. So why, when she had such an important task, did she suddenly feel so young, so incapable, as if the only thing she could do was bury her face in Mama’s skirt?
“Remember, tell Pani Danzon only that the hamantaschen are filled with poppy seed,” Mama whispered. “She’ll know what that means.”
Riva nodded again, a firm nod that tried to shore up her courage. “Poppy seed” meant that hidden in one of these hamantaschen, beneath the dark fruit filling and the dough wrapped around it, was a coded message that would save the Danzon family’s lives.
Mama smiled one more time and straightened before enfolding Riva in a hug. “And, Riva, remember it’s Purim today. Remember Queen Esther.”
Mama meant it was impossible for Riva to fail, on such a day of heroism, with such a heroine to inspire her. Queen Esther risked her life to save her people, the Jews, when their lives teetered on the edge of a knife. How could any Jew do less, even for just one fellow Jew?
Yet as Riva stepped outside the door with her threadbare gray coat buttoned against the early March cold, she understood why some Jews gave in to cowardice—mistreating or betraying their people, siding with the enemy who sought to destroy them. Life was so very dear. Risking it as Esther did and as Riva was doing now meant putting other lives above your own, when all you wanted to do was keep yours safe.
But as Esther—and Riva—realized, some things were worth more than life.
Riva gripped the basket handle with all her fingers as she walked down the side of the cobbled street. Ragged three-story houses loomed over her, and all she saw of the sky was patchy gray clouds streaming over a watery blue. A biting wind slithered through the street, funneled by the buildings. The basket was comfortably heavy, filled with plump, triangular hamantaschen tucked beneath a cheerful red handkerchief.
Surely no one would guess that the basket contained an act of rebellion that could get Riva killed if seen by the wrong eyes.
She didn’t know exactly what the note said—it was best that way—just that it warned the Danzons they were to be arrested and should go to a set place at a set time to be spirited out of the city. Riva’s role was small but crucial. It gave her a sliver of relief to realize that if she were caught before she reached the Danzons, just she would be in trouble. The Danzons’ names weren’t written down, and they had a few more days to be rescued through other means.
Riva was the only one in her family who could deliver the message to the Danzons. David was too young at six years old, and Mama and Papa were too old, since shalach manos were traditionally delivered by a child. Even if they didn’t worry about the tradition, a child would be safer—draw less attention, seem less suspicious.
What are the chances that a soldier or informer would stop me, let alone search my basket, let alone find the note inside a pastry? Impossible! Riva assured herself as she hurried along.
She wanted to return to her family, the task completed, the thrill of success thrumming in her veins instead of this cold fear. She wanted to dress up in her homemade princess costume for their little Purim party that evening, enjoying their own baked treats. She wanted to celebrate and remember the victory God gave His people over two thousand years ago. She wanted to live through the day and come home safe. Please, God, let me accomplish my task.
As Riva rounded corners and followed crooked blocks along the familiar path to the Danzons’, her favorite lines from the megillah, the scroll of Esther they would read that night, whispered in her mind. She heard Mordecai’s words to his cousin, Do not think that you will escape in the king’s house more than all the Jews. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this? She heard Esther’s reply, I will go in to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.
For such a time as this. If I perish, I perish. Riva drank the words and felt her soul’s thirst satisfied. This was an honor, risking her life for fellow Jews. She was doing God’s work.
Still alert for danger, Riva arrived at the Danzons’ apartment building a few minutes later. She entered through the creaky door, climbed dark, rickety stairs, and followed the hallway to the Danzons’ door. She knocked softly, so tense that she couldn’t manage more than that.
“Who is it?” came a muffled voice.
“It’s Riva with shalach manos.”
The door cracked open, and Pani Danzon’s face peeked through. “Shalom, Riva. Chag Purim sameach.” Her voice was still questioning.
Riva held out her basket. “The hamantaschen are filled with poppy seed.”
The woman blinked. “Oh. Oh!” She opened the door all the way and grasped the basket. “Thank you! God bless you, Riva.”
“May He bless you, too.” Riva nodded as she backed away. “Chag Purim sameach.”
The door closed as Riva ran down the hallway. She slowed at the staircase. It wouldn’t do to stumble, even though her heart floated so lightly that falling seemed impossible. She had done it. She had imitated Queen Esther, in her own small way. Baruch Hashem!
Glossary
Shalach manos – Sending of portions (Yiddish/Hebrew). The proper Hebrew term is mishloach manot.
Pani – Mrs. (Polish)
Hamantaschen – Haman’s pockets (Yiddish). These pastries are triangular to mimic Haman’s hat or his pockets. Eating these at Purim symbolizes the defeat of the Jews’ enemies.
Megillah – Scroll (Hebrew)
Chag Purim sameach – Happy Purim (Hebrew)
Baruch Hashem – Blessed be the Lord (Hebrew)
