"Attention, merchants: the airship docks open at dawn. Those with blue permits may claim priority berths at Pier Three. All cargo must pass..." - Announcer's voice that was coming from a fancy device was brutally interrupted by a door slam. Mr. Bird didn't even blink when Mrs. Bird opened the door and closed it with a might you barely could imagine for such an elderly lady. It was for at least a fifth time, or so. What a troublesome day it is! Although this time she was not only not alone, but the other person was none of the family...

Mrs. Bird (deplorably): "Here, here he is. He's still in the same spot. As if time had stopped."

"Oh, and of course, ladies and gentlemen, care to pay attention to the-"

Click-Click - Mrs. Bird switched the radio to the other station. An Eastern melody starts playing. The man: "Oh, I see, it's quite a case that is what we have here. Mr. Bird? Can you hear me?" Silence. Mrs. Bird: "See? Doctor Compin, you ought to do something! We've tried everything, and your methods-" Dr. Compin: "Please, Mrs., my 'methods' are for diagnosis. That you described may not be something we know a cure for... Now, Mr. Bird, I'm going to make a few shots of whatever you're hiding inside that skull of yours. There will not be any pain, don't worry." The doctor takes out a few pieces of specially crafted photopaper from his suitcase and places them around Mr. Bird's head. One by one, and as he puts one, it freezes midair, facing the patient's head. And as he finishes... Dr. Compin: "Mrs. Bird, could you please turn off the lights?"

She follows the instruction without a second thought, but never leaving gaze from the medical ritual happening before her eyes. Doctor lightly touched Mr. Bird's head with an open palm and whispered something. A weak flash. Then two times more - for each piece of paper.

Dr. Compin: "Look at these pictures, Mrs-"

AAAAAAAARGGHHH!!! - Scream. It was Mr. Bird.

Challenge