Certainly, sir. We have a range of paranormal spectacles.
Yes, our mood range. The rose lens lets you view the world in eternal, euphoric happiness. Our blue ones present a cynical world of bitterness and grievance. Apparently, they are very popular with politicians. Our nostalgic glasses will let you wallow in a mud pool of missed opportunities and shameful regrets. However, this monocle will swell you with pride as you relive achievements and insurmountable success at the expense of others.
These, in cotton wool to avoid distortion, give a view of our future. You may not like what you see.
This week’s picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers adds a sense of modern humour, taking a selfie of a selfie!
More story contributions from Friday Fictioneers can be accessed here.
The Aliens are Here
Something caressed his face as goosebumps erupted along his arms, and a cold air whispered, ‘Martha’. John looked in the mirror. “Is that really you? I miss you.” Since Martha passed, his sixth sense alerted him to soft moans and shadows that danced across the mirror. He was not alone.
For goodness’ sake, he was a scientist searching the universe for intelligent beings on other planets. Yet grief warped his imagination towards believing in the paranormal.
What was life without Martha?
Were the aliens observing him and trying to communicate? He sensed the cactus plant was reporting his every move.
At first, Beryl laughed. It seemed harmless. She arrived home from work each evening to a cluttered kitchen.
Although, she was certain the place was spotless when she left in the morning.
This problem started soon after the accident. An inconsiderate driver had knocked her from her bicycle, and she spent the night in hospital with concussion. The doctor advised that her head injury may lead to confusion and disorientation: take it easy.
She took pictures of the kitchen and kept a diary; it was not her imagination!
She lived alone.
Did someone else stay in her flat?