The opening sentence for the March 18th Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: “This was the first time I had ever had to sign for a letter addressed to Occupant.” Please use this sentence (or this thought) somewhere in your flash.
It was the man in the dark glasses at my door that first alerted me to the fact that all was not right.
The intimidation factor was high. I hate confrontation.
He shoved the clipboard at me and pointed to the part I was to sign. I readily did so afraid a refusal could result in some physical injury and I wasn’t much into pain.
He left leaving me a letter saying: “Occupant’. It was the first time I had ever had to sign for a letter addressed ‘Occupant’.
I opened the letter to find a note from my brother Alf. Alf and I had had a falling out over his artistic skill and future as an artist. The note informed me that at the end of the street I would see his latest work.
There behind the park fence was his latest creation with a note I am sure levelled at me his doubting Thomas. The pretentiousness of the painting didn’t escape me nor did my opinions as to his creative abilities. He had long way to go as far as I was concerned.
On close inspection it was as I suspected. Another colour by number piece.