Clive Hindle Fiction

The Dragon’s Tale

The truth now though, was the euphoria had gone. Everything here conspired to bring you down. This hell-hole in the pits of Siberia; it was supposed to be one of the world’s great cities, but it was derelict and run-down, the people undernourished, drab of dress. Drunks sprawled comatose across the squares and public parks, driving all the decent people away. The crooks carried Kalashnikov openly on the streets and did’t give a stuff for the police. Half of them were the police anyway.

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