It was an early autumn evening, but it was getting dark quickly. The streets were half-empty and on top of it, a big storm was coming to the city. In other words, everybody was in a hurry to get home as soon as possible.

Jake was already at home. He had been at home the whole day. Alone. Locked. Scared.

He poured some whiskey into his glass again. He didn’t know how many glasses he had already had. He didn’t care. Whiskey did him good and that was all that mattered.

He took the glass and leaned back in his armchair. Now he looked at his other hand again. He opened the fist and on the palm of his hand, there was a round piece of black leather. They called it “Black Spot”. It was a message and it was very clear. Very clear, indeed.

They were coming.

He drank some of his whiskey and he laughed to himself. Almost everything has changed in the past few centuries. Everything apart from this. The only thing that has survived until this day.

The message, simple and clear, that this day would be his last.


on top of it – navyše

that was all that mattered – to bolo jediné, na čom záležalo

fist /fɪst/ – päsť

palm /pɑːm/ – dlaň

indeed /ɪnˈdiːd/ – vskutku, naozaj

apart from /əˈpɑːt frəm/ – okrem

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