The Smell

I could smell it. Walking around our 8th floor flat, there was a definite smell. I was walking around the flat, in that manner unique to locating an odour - head up, neck stretched, nose jutting out, like a feeding chicken stuck on peck.

could be a chicken; could be me sniffing in search of a smell

Several minutes of this and me saying, "I'm sure I can smell smoke" had convinced my flatmates of my insanity. Until... Will exclaimed, "Oh my god... you really can smell smoke!" We stuck our heads out the window to see lots and lots of smoke. Such a sight is not good if you live on the 1st floor and far worse when, like us, you live on the 8th.

We could hear the fire engines... and we shouted "S**T!! Let's get out of here!" We grabbed our documents and made for the door. The sirens stopped.

We looked out the window once more and it was clear that the bins had caught fire somehow. Then we simultaneously had the same thought.... "Get the cameras!"

I don't know if it was deliberate or something like a discarded, smouldering cigarette end thrown down the rubbish chute. The fire engines were so old they made the 'Green Goddesses' look ultra-modern and I wasn't really convinced as to how someone would survive a fire if they were on the 8th floor. At least they made for a good photo.

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Elsewhere on this site:
Tales of Fire #1