The image of the pursuing ship flicked through the overhead screens, settled into the forward ones, spun right side up and was dead ahead, coming towards them.

The image flicked over to the ulterior of an empty building.

His image flicked out of existence, leaving the drifting terrace lights and the fading glow in the west.

But this positive-negative image also flicks into an old hag, worn and alone.

As it turned, its image flicked into incandescence.

Scattered images flicked at him, then vanished, then returned in an annoying pastiche of vision and blackness.

The image of the astronaut flicked out of sight and another being appeared.

An image flicked through my mind and was gone.

The images flicked quickly past, streaked with static.

Struggling not to sulk over more personal matters, Eve kept her eyes glued to the monitor as the image flicked on.