A Hole in What I Know

Today’s prompt: “Write about something you know absolutely nothing about. Make all of it up.”

So, I wouldn’t know from personal experience what happens when a localized black hole materializes in your lungs, but I’ve got a pretty good idea. I can wish on your behalf that the black hole sucked all the air out of your lungs first, and you died of suffocation, a not entirely horrible death. But I think we both know that’s not what happened. Your bloodstream was carrying enough oxygen for you to stay alive for at least a minute without breathing, and the black hole acted on your internal organs much faster than that, smooshing them up into their component molecules and then smooshing them up into even more itty-bitty molecules than that with all the space crowded out between the electrons and the nuclei and all the space that would normally be between atoms just broken down like when you cut all the packing tape and flatten a cardboard box. The force you felt when that happened was like being hit by a falling anvil and a bullet train at the same time, except that’s like a 0.5 on a scale that goes up to 100, which is where you’re at now. Anyway, at least it was quick. You can’t survive long with your heart compacted to the size of, what, 1/100,000th of a raisin? Probably smaller than that. How many atoms are in a raisin anyway?