The man was an insignificant flea before the gaping majesty of the black hole. Sweat was beaded upon his high-arched, coarse brows; his mouth—once agape, curved into a sinister smile.
Above this, his two eyes shimmered in purple light.
Watching.
Reflecting.
Bodies, putrid in stench, all bloodied and beaten, sprawled before him.
Each moan heard, each cry caused, each plea savored; visibly elatedly was this antagonist, as he bobbed along to such sounds made.
To him, these were not people, they were instruments to be played and crying was only one of the sounds they could make, and even that became the symphony.
Curdling, thickening throats vibrated so loudly their emotions could be felt in the void of empty space.
This building climax only lasted a moment and then...
Silence.
Dead silence.
The dead silence was dead, hung, drawn, and quartered; buried with the rest.
This was the second savored the most.
A single moment passed, then another—Stillness until not.
He raised a chewed, yellow-stained fingernail, as though conducting this abscess .
Clearly Jittering, he waited for a climax.
BOOM.
Their bodies burst like boils; brains, bones both tore free from their bodies. Their meat fed the mouth.
Crunch. Smash. Swallow. Burp. People, all consumed without mercy, feasted on by the black hole's ravenous maw, now dead.
Millions upon millions. Trillions upon trillions. It consumed, and consumed, and consumed, until only one word remained to describe the scene:
'Calamity'
And even this collapsed into nothingness.
As if born from the chaos, a crack cleaved this once‑virgin void in twain.
Through absence it came, ethereal and magenta, its tendrils reached forth to grab at this man.
His once handsome and jovial complexion had long since perished withered into condensed fear.
Then, he was gone.