With the first golden leaves of autumn, he came.
He made no announcement. Nobody saw him arrive. One day he was simply there: an old man, about four feet in height, with a curling white beard. His cap was dark crimson and his coat was bright orange.
At first, they tried to make him leave, as they would with any stranger who’d shown up in their shed. He refused to listen to them, maintaining that this was where he would stay for the season, no matter what they said.
They called the police, but when they arrived in their blue uniforms, truncheons in hand, he was nowhere to be seen. The moment the police were gone, he was back, a defiant smile on his face.
So he stayed put until winter’s cold shook the branches bare.
As the first frost formed on the window panes, he vanished into the night.
Word Count: 150
This is for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and to Phylor for proving the prompt photo!