The man was an insignificant flea before the gaping majesty of the black hole.
His two eyes, shrouded by night, shimmered with purple light. His mouth, once agape, curved into a sinister smile.
Watching.
Bodies, piled and putrid in stench, lay bloodied and beaten, all sprawled before him.
Their moans heard, cries caused, pleas savored. This man, visibly elated, bobbed along to the sounds they made.
A requiem of curdling, thickening throats vibrated so intensely their emotions, their pain, could be conveyed in this hanging void.
Still, no one listened, or more precisely, no one heard in understanding: Suffering, ache, loss, and torture all bubbled up to an explosive climax, then...
Silence.
Dead silence.
The dead silence was dead, hung, drawn, and quartered; buried with the rest.
A single moment passed, then another—stillness, until not.
He raised his chewed, yellow-stained fingernails as though conducting this absence.
Jittering, he waited for the climax.
BOOM.
Their bodies burst like boils; brains and bones both tore free from their bodies. Their meat fed the hole.
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. Consumed, and consumed, and consumed, until only one word remained to describe the scene:
'Calamity'
And even this collapsed into nothingness.
Born from chaos itself, a crack cleaves this once-virgin void in twain.
Heralding this new arrival, even the black hole offers itself as a willing sacrifice.
Through absence it came, emerging ethereal and magenta. Tendrils reaching forth from this gap grabbed the man before he could resist.
That once ecstatic complexion had long since withered into a condensed fear.
Then, he was gone.
And not so distant from this scene, another's eyes opened.