This isn't technically fiction – it's 100% true, but it tells well in Flash Fiction style...
I remember it as though yesterday: a miserably wet Wednesday night in March 1974. Hearts, my football team, against Ayr United, played in teeming rain. No covered spectator enclosures in those days.
Afterwards we were in no mood to hang around, so our driver decided to take a ‘short cut home’. Then the mist descended, fog actually. We drove along tiny Ayrshire country lanes for almost twenty miles, unable to see more than five yards around us with no evidence of life, habitation, or even another vehicle.
Then we saw a sign.
I remember it as though yesterday: a miserably wet Wednesday night in March 1974. Hearts, my football team, against Ayr United, played in teeming rain. No covered spectator enclosures in those days.
Afterwards we were in no mood to hang around, so our driver decided to take a ‘short cut home’. Then the mist descended, fog actually. We drove along tiny Ayrshire country lanes for almost twenty miles, unable to see more than five yards around us with no evidence of life, habitation, or even another vehicle.
Then we saw a sign.
WELCOME TO MOSCOW
We decided we were lost.
