THE RED DOOR

 THE RED DOOR

Darryl knew every doorway that wasn’t locked at night, where to find cardboard to keep the chill of stone stairs at bay, which bin contained the tastiest scraps, and who lived where.

He defended his territory with determination, and when necessary with his fists, so when smoke began seeping from beneath the red door in the small hours, Darryl was the only one to spot it.

He barged into Flat 3 with one well-aimed kick, dragged the choking occupants down the stairs, and returned for the cat.

‘Local knowledge’ he told the reporter.

The Council housed him the following week.

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Another 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the indefatigable Rochelle. If you fancy joining the fun, either by reading other stories or writing your own, follow the frog trail from her blog. https://rochellewisoff.com/