Sylva Lauerová´s books have many enthusiastic fans. Her readers know to read between the lines for the energy hidden in the story - whether they like it or not. Perhaps that is why it is appropriate to warn that this novel will not save you. It is dark, mysterious and full of the silent paradoxes of our lives.
He pushed the door to and slumped silently in the corner. Crouching down, he began to cry. How ever could one relax in such a poisonous dump? He would have left immediately, he would gone back to the underground, but he no longer had the strength. Three days, three long days, he had sought anything that might feed him. He desperately searched every corner, all stops, all carriages and all platforms. But nothing to be found anywhere. His strength slowly faded, little by little; a tiny trickle of energy disappearing every passing moment, never to return, was the only subtle warning that there could be worse to come. His own anxiousness gradually grew into a deepening despair and his feeling of injustice and helplessness was spiked with fear. He wouldn´t last out until Easter, he wouldn´t. He needed to feed, otherwise he wouldn´t have the strength for the next task. He felt so old and tired …
Leaning to one side before he lay down, he pulled a sheet of newspaper from his coat pocket, spread it on the ground, and carefully smoothed it out with his hand. The bold print shone in the gloom. This still needed to be done.
Slowly and intently, he tore out the letters, one by one.
Five single letters.
Side by side, he laid them out carefully, then crumpled up the rest of the newspaper and put it in his pocket. He then settled down to sleep.