A haunting voice, a forgotten legacy, and a golem waiting to wake.
Welcome to ADAM, a bi-weekly serialized historical fantasy rooted in Jewish mysticism and folklore. Each installment reveals a new chapter in the unfolding tales of three Jewish women living during three different moments of history. This chapter follows twin sisters Avital and Annalise as they arrive in Mandatory Palestine in 1936. If you’re just joining us, welcome! You can catch up anytime using the full Chapter List. If you’re back, I’m so glad to have you here! You can start reading below.

If you’re curious about the inspiration behind ADAM, this article shares how the story came to be and why I’m telling it one chapter at a time. Thank you so much for reading and being part of this journey — it means the world to me.

I’d love to know what you think so far. If you have thoughts, questions, or favorite moments, drop a comment below — I welcome the conversation and am so glad to have you with me.

Chapter List

Prologue

Chapter One: The Maharal’s Daughter

Chapter Two: The Witch of Döbling

Chapter Three: The ADAM Project

Chapter Four: The Sacred Shidduch

Chapter Five: The Fifth Aliyah

Chapter Six: Interface

Chapter Seven: The Golem of Prague

Chapter Eight: Under the Olive Tree

Chapter Nine: That Night OR The Incident

Chapter Ten: Unseen

Chapter Five: The Fifth Alliyah     

British Mandate Palestine, Jaffa port 1936

The ground beneath Avital’s feet swayed. She glanced down at her boots to reassure herself she was standing on dry land. Dust swirled in the air, kicked up from the sand and gravel of the shipyard and settling on her stockings and the hem of her skirt. As the other passengers of the ship disembarked, Avital was jostled forward, engulfed in a din of shouting voices, the cry of seagulls, the blare of foghorns, and the clang of bells off the buoys in the harbor. Annalise clung to her arm, a handkerchief to her mouth. She had suffered the most on the long journey. Each morning, she’d staggered from bed, sick from the rocking motion of the ship. She barely ate breakfast, sipping the ginger tea that Avital brought back to their quarters to calm her stomach. By late afternoon, the color usually returned to her cheeks and by dinner, she was ravenous. 

The sisters mostly kept to themselves, politely acknowledging the other passengers but not engaging with any of them. This wasn’t unusual for Avital, who preferred her own company to that of others, but it was less common for Annalise. Their mother laughingly called her their “social butterfly” because she was always “flitting from one soiree to the next,” and she had more friends than they could count. But once the ship pulled away from the dock, she turned inward, lying on her bunk every day, staring at the wall, barely talking even to Avital. In the letters Avital wrote home, she left out her sister’s depression, not wanting to concern their parents. It was only at night, when most of the ship slept, that the sisters slipped out to sit on the deck under a bejeweled night sky and talk about their new reality.

“I can’t believe Mama and Papa sent us away,” Annalise complained. “You don’t really believe what’s happening in Germany is going to affect Austria, do you? It can’t possibly continue, can it? And how long will we be in Palestine, do you think?” She often asked questions Avital couldn’t answer. She knew better than her sister why they were leaving Vienna. Unlike Annalise, whose interests were centered on the latest fashion trends and picture shows, Avital followed the news out of Germany. She sat on the floor of her father’s study most nights listening to the radio broadcasts as he sat in his arm chair, face furrowed in concentration, smoke curling from the forgotten cigarette in his ashtray. She pretended to study while he sat at his desk, muttering to himself as he read from his piles of newspapers. She had felt her blood run cold when she first learned about the passing of the Nuremberg Laws. She paid attention while her father read the mandates of the new laws to her mother.

“They’re saying Jews are no longer German citizens,” he murmured, shaking his head. 

“I don’t understand,” her mother said, her hands twisting in her lap. “What does that mean?”

“We can no longer vote or hold public office. We are considered racially inferior.”

“Racially inferior?”

“Yes,” her father said as his eyes continued to scan the newspaper article. “Jews will face a penalty for marrying anyone with German blood. And there are other decrees as well. It’s called the Law for the Protection of German Blood and German Honour.”  

“Papa, what does that mean?” She asked, finally interrupting. “Is that legal? Can the Nazi party do that?” Her father, who was a lawyer, would know the legal repercussions of these new laws. But instead of an answer, her mother had shooed her from the room, telling her she shouldn’t be eavesdropping on their adult conversation, that it wasn’t her concern. But at almost 18, Avital felt she was an adult and should know what was happening in the world.

When their parents sat them down and told them of the arrangements they’d made to send them to their aunt and uncle, Annalise had run from the living room and locked herself behind her bedroom door. Avital still remembered her sister’s wails carrying down the stairs. She remembered the worried look in her mother’s eyes and the sullen frown on her father’s face. She remembered standing outside her sister’s door, using the secret knock they’d created when they were children, and whispering through the crack that everything would be fine. When her sister finally let her in, her face was tear-stained and her eyes were red. Annalise had thrown herself on her bed and cried out that their parents were being unfair by not giving them an option. “Vienna is our home!” She’d sobbed.  

Avital had accepted the news stoically. She had packed her bag with her journals and her favorite books and the photographs of her family. She had stood in her room, glancing around, wondering when she’d see it again.  

“They did it for our own good,” Avital often repeated to Annalise on their nighttime sojourns on deck. She stood at the rails of the ship, staring out at an expanse of inky black water, feeling the vibration of the ship in the banister beneath her palms and the floorboards beneath her feet. She didn’t mention the apprehension she felt as well, the apprehension that she had felt in her very bones for months now. She attributed it to the fact that they were moving to a foreign land. She tried to recall her aunt and uncle’s faces, but the last time she had seen them was when she was a child. Her father’s brother had visited with his new wife shortly after their wedding in Jerusalem. They had brought small trinkets for Annalise and Avital. Annalise had exclaimed over the little velvet boxes that held hair combs and charm bracelets, but it was the stories of the land that fascinated Avital the most. She begged to hear more about the sea so filled with salt you were suspended on the surface, about the sunrise over the cliffs of Masada, of the Muslim call to prayer that echoed over the rooftops of the city of Jerusalem. Now, they would see all this for themselves. They would stay with their aunt and uncle, helping their aunt around the house and working with their uncle in his office, while their parents stayed in Europe, watching, waiting for the right time to bring them home.

“It’s too crowded,” Annalise complained, shifting her weight beside Avital, the handkerchief still clutched to her mouth. “The air is stifling.” 

“We’re almost there,” Avital said, glancing over the heads of the crowd to the gate guarded by officers checking papers before allowing passengers to exit the port. Avital rummaged through her bag for her Certificate of Immigration. For a moment, her hand brushed against the box her mother had handed her before they departed. “Give this to your aunt when you see her,” she had whispered as she pulled her daughter into a hug. “Remember to do this for me. And be brave, my Avital. Take care of your sister. She will need your strength. We love you always and will be with you soon.”

She swallowed over a lump in her throat at the memory of her mother’s parting words. 

After what seemed like ages, they reached the front of the line. Avital passed the guard her papers, then nudged a dazed Annalise to do the same. As the officer examined their passport and certifications, obtained a month ago by the Jewish Agency for Palestine, Avital examined the officer. He was dressed in a matching khaki shirt and trouser shorts, socks to his knees and a bowl-shaped pith helmet on his head, shading his deep-set eyes. Avital recognized the attire as that of the British authorities. She had seen images of others dressed the same in newspaper photos on her father’s desk. However it was the gun slung over his shoulder that made her reach for her sister’s hand and glance at Annalise. Her sister didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were downcast and she swayed slightly where she stood, unresponsive, as oblivious to her surroundings as a sleepwalker. 

“Twins?” The officer asked as he looked up from the papers in his hands, startling Avital. She swallowed and nodded. “We don’t see too many identical twins,” he commented in a thick scouse accent. A line of perspiration clung to his brow just below his blond curls, and his generally golden, sun-kissed complexion was occasionally marred by blotches of sunburn. Under other circumstances, Avital imagined she’d find him handsome. But now she felt a sudden surge of anxiety, her eyes still on the gun, wondering what would happen if they were denied entrance. “We’re here visiting our aunt and uncle,” Avital explained even though he hadn’t asked. They’d already been questioned and examined in the bureau office just off the ship before they were allowed into the port. They’d been asked why they were coming to Palestine and where they were going to live while they were subjected to a medical screening and more paperwork. Many of the passengers were being sent to immigration houses, and Avital was thankful that she had her family there to meet them. Now, the soldier was the only thing standing in her way. He reached up and wiped at the sweat forming on his upper lip before glancing a final time at the papers in his hands and finally passing back their passports and immigration certificates. Avital took them from him with a sigh of relief. She pulled on Annalise’s arm as the soldier waved them through the gate. 

Once out in the crowded marketplace, Avital breathed a little easier. The crown of her head grew hot and the hair along her temples began to curl in the humidity. She glanced up at a blinding sun overhead. Waves of heat rippled in the air. Avital’s senses were assaulted by the smell of exotic spices from nearby stalls where hawkers haggled over the price of their wares, by the sharp, briny scent of fish mingled with diesel and coal smoke from the shipyard, and by the scent of salt in the air as waves crashed against the moorings. Over it all was the pungent, stale odor of bodies moving in all directions. She heard the buzz of conversation in multiple languages: Yiddish, Hebrew, Arabic, even German and Polish. Shielding her eyes, Avital paused and glanced around. The press of bodies flowed around them like water parting for rocks in a stream. “How will we find Uncle Benjamin?” She wondered aloud as she studied the crowd. Beside her, Annalise looked up as if realizing for the first time where they were. With their backs to the sea, they gazed up at sandstone buildings rising on the hillside in shades of soft beige, golden tan, and pale ochre. They looked like stacked blocks against a blue, cloudless sky. Avital followed the path of a gull in the sky as it arched over the tiled rooftops and distant tower spires.

Then, a voice cut through the cacophony, calling their names. 

“Avital Singer! Annalise Singer! Is that you?”

The girls turned and saw an older couple pushing through the crowd. They were smartly dressed, the man in a light suit with a slightly unbuttoned white shirt, the collar parted, and the woman in a short-sleeved dress, a pale scarf wrapped around her head. The man lifted his hand and waved, quickening his steps as he rushed forward. The woman shifted the strap of her handbag into the crook of her arm and hurried her pace to match her husband’s. Recognition dawned on Avital as they grew closer. Her aunt and uncle appeared older than she remembered, but the smiles on their faces were the same. Avital reached for Annalise’s hand again as relief flooded through her.

“Oh thank goodness,” Aunt Judith exclaimed when they reached the twins’ side. She drew first Annalise, then Avital, into a hug. Avital inhaled the clean floral fragrance of her aunt’s perfume. “Oh darlings, you made it! It’s so wonderful to see you both!”

“Hello, Aunt Judith,” Avital said.

“Shalom! Shalom!” Uncle Ezra exclaimed in a booming voice. He wrapped them both in a hug as well, and Avital felt her pulse return to normal as she nestled in the safety of her family’s embrace. When he pulled away, he gazed at them, shaking his head. “I still remember you as little girls in pigtails, always underfoot. Now look how the two of you have grown! Still identical as ever!” His accent was thick and throaty, but Avital still detected a Viennese inflection to his words. Aunt Judith laughed and put her arms around both girls’ shoulders. “You must be weary,” she said as Uncle Ezra bent to lift their bags. “You’ve had a long journey.”

“Exhausted,” Annalise whispered. Avital noticed that she seemed more alert as they walked toward the side of the road where a number of horse drawn carts, lorries, vehicles and buses loitered, but her face was still pale and her feet dragged on the path. 

“Jerusalem is a two hour ride away, so we should be there by nightfall,” Uncle Ezra explained. “I’ve brought you these to enjoy,” he said, pulling two fresh oranges from his pocket and handing one to each of the girls. “They are the pride of Jaffa port!”

Avital lifted the orange to her nose and inhaled deeply, relishing the fresh citrus aroma. “Thank you, Uncle Ezra,” she said gratefully as they followed him to the road. She expected to board one of the idling buses, but instead he led them to a Studebaker parked nearby. “Your uncle’s newest toy,” Aunt Judith mused as he leaned against the shiny hood, smiling at them. “Bought just last month,” he acknowledged, moving to the passenger door and opening it for them. “Get in, get in!” he said genially. “Let’s get you home. I’m sure you’re looking forward to a nice warm bed.”

As Avital and Annalise slid onto the backseat, Uncle Ezra loaded their bags in the trunk. Judith sat in front and turned to smile back at the girls. “I will telegram your mother and father and let them know you’ve made it safely,” she said as Uncle Ezra got behind the wheel and started the ignition. The car lurched forward, and soon the Jaffa port was behind them.

While their aunt chatted happily, talking about their home in the heart of the city and how they’d prepared a room for the girls to share and how they shouldn’t worry about a thing, Avital couldn’t pry her eyes away from the window. The landscape that spread out on either side of the paved road was foreign and breathtaking. They drove past coastal plains and rugged hills dotted with weathered stone houses and citrus groves. Avital spotted shepherds with covered heads tending to flocks in the fields, and clusters of olive trees and palms blanketed the valley, their leafy green branches swaying against a cobalt blue sky.       

“What does your father tell you about what’s happening in Palestine?” Uncle Ezra asked from the front seat, interrupting Avital’s reverie. “And tell us more about what’s happening in Germany.”

“What’s happening in Palestine?” Avital asked, but Aunt Judith put a hand on her husband’s arm and said, “Not now, Ezra. We have time enough to discuss this. The girls just got here and they’re safe. Let’s focus on getting them settled.”

“Ken, ken, you’re right,” their uncle nodded. The car rounded a corner, heading further inland, and the coast was no longer in view. The bag in Avital’s lap slipped onto the seat and as she went to steady it, she remembered the box her mother had handed to her before she embarked on the ship. “Aunt Judith,” Avital said, reaching into her bag. “Mother asked me to give this to you.” She leaned forward and passed the small box to her aunt, who looked at it curiously as she accepted it. “Thank you, darling,” she said. “I’ll open it once we arrive.”   

The drive continued with their aunt and uncle telling them about their home in Rehavia, their uncle’s office on the campus of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, and the areas their aunt was eager to show them like the Shuk and the Downtown Triangle in the New City. Annalise sat quietly, her head turned away, resting against the far window, and Avital wondered if she had fallen asleep. Avital blinked off sleep as well, trying hard to stay awake; she was so enamored with her surroundings that she fought against the exhaustion weighing heavily on her lids, wanting to drink in the landscape. As the road began to climb, hugging the hillside, carrying them further away from the sea and into steeper terrain, Avital saw the foothills of the mountains surrounding the Old City. She leaned forward, gazing out the front window as the city walls became visible, the rooftops, steeples, and minarets rising above, and then the Dome of the Rock, its gilded crown glinting in the now setting sun.  

Avital turned to Annalise, eager for her to see. That’s when she realized her sister was awake and staring not outside the car but down at something resting in the palm of her hand. It was the locket David had given her for their anniversary. Avital sat back silently, remembering the night Annalise barged into her room and jumped onto her bed to show her the heart-shaped pendant with the initials A and D engraved on the backside. “I’m going to marry him one day,” she had confided in a whisper. From that moment on, the locket never left the chain Annalise wore around her neck. 

Now, it lay in her sister’s hand, the clasp undone, and Avital worried that this was some sort of omen. Annalise stared down at it, her expression unreadable. She pressed the notch on the side of the heart and the compartment opened, revealing a sepia-toned photo of David, his smile soft, his lashes lowered slightly, his eyes staring back at her sister.

The outside world faded as Avital watched a tear fall onto the photograph.