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Alien Photography by Pamela Goodyer

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ALIEN PHOTOGRAPHY

Pamela Goodyer was alone in humanity yet surrounded by alien companionship. She defied the odds to become the first photographer to photograph these extraterrestrial beings in her night photography images. Everywhere she ventured with her Milky Way camera, they followed. After enduring the most devastating year of her life with the loss of a dear one, she found solace in creativity and art. Somehow, the aliens heard her silent pain and offered comfort without a single word uttered.

Pamela believed these star travelers had befriended her due to her otherworldly artistic mind and ability to channel from other realms. “You must be creative, believe in aliens, and they will find you,” she thought. And find her they did – time and time again, as witnessed in photos across the globe. Now, Pam’s story has spread beyond Earth.

READ THE STORIES BELOW

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How Pamela First Photographed the Aliens

HOW ALIEN PHOTOGRAPHY FIRST BEGAN

Mark and I strolled across the sand of the beach, our eyes fixed on the dazzling display of stars above. The Milky Way stretched its ethereal arms across the endless expanse of sky, twinkling with millions of distant worlds. The warm summer air enveloped us in a comforting embrace, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed on its gentle breeze.  The soft sound of crashing waves became a soothing soundtrack to our footsteps. We eagerly set up our cameras, hoping to document the beauty of this celestial moment, a memory that would last far beyond this warm midsummer night.

As darkness fell, the stars shimmered, revealing the universe’s secrets. I adjusted the settings on my camera (Canon Mark IV, hence the name Mark), but something extraordinary was about to unfold before our eyes, or my eyes and his lens.

I started creating images of the fragments of a picturesque cosmic ballet. I glanced again at the back of my camera, and my heart began to race out of control, my eyes wide with terror, hoping I saw a trick of light or my imagination. But they are — unmistakably extraterrestrial beings staring back at me from the screen! Panic sets in as I realize I can’t see them with my own eyes, yet they somehow appear in my photos. The hairs on my neck stand on end as I fear what other secrets may lie hidden around me.

PARALYZING FEAR

The darkness engulfed me, my heart pounding like a wild animal trying to break free. I knew I couldn’t stay frozen in terror. My only chance of survival was to grab Mark and run or face the unknown dangers of communicating with unseen aliens. But as my mind raced with doubts and questions, a sudden urgency took over. I needed to get these images, no matter the cost. With my life possibly in danger, I couldn’t spend time debating with myself. Were these creatures friendly? Should I fear for my life? The adrenaline coursing through me only heightened the uncertainty and danger of the moment.

I took another shot. As I anxiously reviewed the image, I saw a bright, slender streak of light, a light trail forming a heart right next to the alien, looking straight at me. It had to be more than a coincidence; without a doubt, it was a message from the aliens I had been trying to communicate with. My heart raced with excitement and understanding as I continued photographing their light show. They danced the red light trail through the images floating around in the air under the Milky Way.

My heart calmed, and I acknowledged the rarity of this moment. I could now reveal the greatest secret in human history: aliens are among us! I will be the first to present alien images to the world. Yes, the whistle-blowers came forward in 2017 and showed the Air Force tracking an alien ship across the sky, but they did not have pictures of the actual aliens themselves.

CONGRESSIONAL COMMITTEE WHISTLEBLOWERS

Before a congressional committee, the whistle-blowers shared their testimony regarding the existence of ships and aliens in government custody and the ongoing process of reverse engineering, which is where all of our technology has been coming from for almost a century. I remember the testimony claiming that the Deep State has resorted to murder to protect this ultra-top secret information.

Amidst the intoxicating euphoria of basking in the aliens’ glory of posing for me in my pictures, I am suddenly struck by a surge of knowledge. Their words are not spoken but implanted directly into my mind, searing with unfiltered information that overwhelms my senses and rattles my understanding of reality. The weight of this newfound knowledge presses down on me, threatening to consume me entirely as I struggle to grasp the truth behind their cryptic gestures and enigmatic language.

The messages contain a warning, a fragment of information that simultaneously cautions against embedding too much information in my brain. They say it would unravel my sanity. Before they left me, they urged me to focus only on the main message for today, the message they want to spread throughout mankind. Yet, I can’t ignore the unsettling intuition that their cryptic words conceal a darker truth. The sinister feeling is about my government, not them; the most corrupt, warmongering, money-hungry group in the world is threatening all of humanity.

THE KEY MESSAGES FROM THE ALIENS

The key messages they embed in the core of my being are:

“STOP KILLING EACH OTHER – STOP DESTROYING THE PLANET – AND STOP ALL NUCLEAR ACTIVITY”

During our first interaction, my mind was flooded with raw awareness, shattering the veil of deceit and manipulation that had clouded my vision. It was as if the aliens had given me a god-like ability to see through all illusions, perceiving the unfiltered truth. Every lie, every facade crumbles under the weight of this newfound power coursing through me. I am to use this in every aspect of my life for the greater good of humanity. They have chosen me. But why?

THE CHOSEN ONE

Since childhood, I have had a gift – the power to commune with spirits and foretell the future. Is this why? Since my mind is a channel for cosmic knowledge, those desperate for insight seek my visions. Being a prophet has its burdens, but it is a responsibility I bear with pride and reverence.

I always believed my clairvoyant abilities were a birthright inherited from generations of gifted ancestors. My great-grandmother had foretold the assassination of John F. Kennedy long before he was even born. She spoke of an Irish Catholic president who would be tragically murdered, and her prediction came true. But now, with my powers amplified a hundredfold by the aliens, I can’t help but question their involvement in granting me this gift. Did they implant it in my ancestor’s DNA, passing it down through generations? How are they capable of manipulating our very essence? The more I think about it, the more unsettling questions arise, leaving me desperate for answers. They did not instill this knowledge in me. But then, an epiphany occurred. I could ask the aliens; I intuitively knew they would see me again.

Creative Writing or did it really happen?

ALIEN PHOTOGRAPHY STORY CONTINUES

PHOTOGRAPHER/INVESTIGATOR

I have always been a true artist whose work is inspired by my love for the unknown. I never expected that I would make actual contact with extraterrestrial beings one day and become the creator of alien photography. Still, there I was, in the middle of the night, getting photos of these magnificent creatures. I had spent countless nights shooting the Milky Way, trying to photograph its beauty. But on that fateful night, something else caught my eye. At first, I thought it was just an airplane or a satellite passing overhead, but as I zoomed in with my camera lens, I realized it was something entirely different.

MY ARTICLES

I started writing about the alien messages, and my articles became incisive exposés that shook the stoic facades of the powerful and exposed the rot underneath. I used the gift given to me by the aliens with an unwavering intensity and fervor, exposing corruption. I was getting closer and closer to something; I could feel it, but at this point, I was still not sure what it was.  The aliens had told me that they are not the only species. My new intuition told me I was now up against other alien species. But details were vague. I was new at this. Maybe in time things would become clearer. Or maybe this is just the extent of my abilities.

But as I reveled in the satisfaction of uncovering the truth, a haunting fear took hold. My psychic ability had been an invaluable tool in my quest for truth, but it also made me a target for those who sought to exploit it. The deeper I delved into things, the more attention I would draw to myself, even though I was just a ghostwriter. My intuition warned me that unseen eyes watched my every move, and I could feel their scrutiny intensifying.

To protect myself, I returned to my training and honed my senses. I devised clever methods to detect intruders trying to enter my home for covert surveillance, bypassing my advanced security system. I would set traps between door frames using threads or hairs to alert me if someone had entered. I strategically placed objects like coins and powder in areas that had the potential to serve as points of entry.

I awaited the day I would utilize my alien-given gift to save humanity. Only after that would I leave my hiding place and join the rest of the world.

MY TRAPS WERE TRIGGERED

My heels clicked on the pavement, heading towards the front door one evening, after another late night of photographing the Milky Way. I arrived home. I opened the door and found something had triggered my strategically placed traps. I felt an icy dread clutch at my heart, but also that familiar hollow tunnel vision surge as I pulled my gun out of the holster and chambered a round. With a deep breath, I went inside. The house was silent, except for the soft ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the hallway. My senses heightened, picking up the faintest indications of disturbance. There was a misplaced mug on the coffee table, with giant footprints in the soft powder I set down before I left.

I crept up the stairs, my hand tight around the gun, my heart hammering in my chest like a warning bell. Each creak of the old staircase felt like a bad omen, and an eerie stillness reverberated through the house. I reached the landing and tiptoed toward the master bedroom. The door was cracked open, darkness swallowing it whole. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open with my foot, my gun aimed at whatever may lurk inside.

Fear coiled in my gut as I stepped into the room, my eyes locked on a symbol. It was a warning, a message, an explicit threat that made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a precipice.  It was a sigil of a presence I had been sensing for years, a silent warning I could barely comprehend.  I knew I was on the precipice of a revelation that my work was bearing fruit.

CRIMSON TIDE

Suddenly, everything made sense.  Or did it? Was this their declaration of war? As I processed the shocking revelation, a strange calm came over me. After years of uncertainty, I finally had a name to put to one of my enemies. Standing there, gazing at the symbol that had turned my home into a war zone, I knew I had to tap into the god-like abilities bestowed upon me by the extraterrestrials.

I must delve deeper and uncover the truth. When I finished clearing the house, I went outside. There was no evidence of their presence in any room except my bedroom. Can I find my alien allies once more? I pondered to myself, wondering whether they would answer my call if I contacted them. I looked at the stars above and whispered, “How do you reach out to aliens?” My feet began to move towards the spot where we first crossed paths.

The house behind me had transformed into a crypt of malevolence, yet I found an odd sense of peace beneath the night sky. My heart pounded in my chest, the rhythm reminding me that I had something to fight for—my life and freedom.

The next day, I slept in, knowing it would be a long night. I packed my cameras, cleaned lenses, and got them ready for our journey. We would wait until just before nightfall.

TO BE CONTINUED

The story is not over; it is just beginning. TO BE CONTINUED

Are Pamela’s tales of alien encounters works of fiction, or are they based on real experiences? As readers delve deeper into Pamela’s alien photography, they are drawn into a world where reality and imagination blur together, leaving them with more questions than answers. As they flipped through Photography Magazine Extra, they found themselves wondering what other secrets lay hidden within the mysterious mind of Pamela Goodyer.

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