These Eyes Just Won’t Do

My eyes were on their last days; I couldn’t afford an upgrade or replacement.

My aunt, an avid inventor and fixer of things, had offered to see what could be done about my ailing lenses, which I needed for my work as a journalist.

She got through the security features without a sweat; and seemed to be doing a great job, until I left.

Her house was built under a generator which she devised for the neighbourhood; one has to walk a great distance to reach the train station.

I started seeing ghostly images of jelly fish and beach sides that looked like dreams from a past I’ve only ever heard from the elderly.

I called her as I waited on a bench; “what did you do to my eyes?”

“Well, – The lenses came from, you know, someone that’s expired.”

I rubbed my forehead, mouthed profane words but said nothing…

“They’re safe; it’s probably old memory from images they took. They’ll go away when you start taking your own pictures.”

An image of a bedroom with white floorboards faded in and out of focus. A bed weighed down by a large fuzzy figure. Tubes from ceiling appeared to be pumping it with some sort of thick liquid. The figure busts like a balloon and the short film starts over.
My stomach turns, I don’t know if I should punch something or throw up!

“Whose lenses are these!!?”

…She Hung up.

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