Existence.


    What exactly is it? Why do we cling so desperately to this fleeting thing we call life?


    Every living creature fights to survive. Yet, we all know—deep down—that our end is inevitable. What’s the purpose? Survival? Evolution? Entertainment for something far greater than ourselves?


    I’ve wondered about this for years. And now, as the world is about to end, I finally have my answer.


    ***


    Psychiatric Ward – 11:42 AM


    The hum of fluorescent lights drilled into my skull. The walls—pure white, sterile—were so clean they almost looked fake, like the set of some forgotten sci-fi movie. The sharp scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mixing with the distant sound of scribbling pens and murmured conversations.


    They were watching me. Again.


    I could feel their gazes through the one-way glass, their whispers buzzing in the silence. The doctors weren’t discussing treatment or therapy. No, they weren’t here to help me. They never were.


    The only reason they kept me here was because I told them the truth. A black hole will swallow the Earth.


    I’d seen it in my dreams since I was a child—the sky fracturing, the ground warping, gravity twisting in impossible ways. At first, I thought it was paranoia. Hallucinations from a lonely mind. But the visions never stopped. They only grew stronger.


    So I told people. I warned them.


    And for that, they locked me away.


    A familiar voice crackled over the intercom. “Patient #326, report your condition.”


    I tilted my head, staring blankly at the camera above my bed. “Still crazy, doctor?” I muttered, just loud enough for the mic to catch it.


    There was silence. Then a tired sigh. “Be serious.”


    Be serious? How can I be serious when the world is about to die?


    I exhaled, shutting my eyes. Soon. Soon, they would see.


    ***


    Breaking News – 12:15 PM


    CNN Live Broadcast


    “Reports of strange gravitational anomalies have surfaced worldwide…”


    The screen cut to footage of the Tokyo skyline, where buildings bent at unnatural angles, light warping as if seen through a heatwave. Cars floated an inch above the asphalt before crashing back down, sending pedestrians screaming.


    “Similar phenomena have been reported in New York, London, and Beijing. Scientists remain unsure of the cause.”


    Inside the newsroom, the anchor’s forced calmness barely masked the panic in his eyes. “We are joined now by Dr. Elias Carter, a leading astrophysicist. Dr. Carter, can you explain what’s happening?”


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The guest—a middle-aged man in a tweed jacket—adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers. “This… this isn’t natural. The laws of physics don’t allow for localized gravity distortions like this.”


    The anchor frowned. “Then what do you think is causing it?”


    Dr. Carter opened his mouth. Hesitated. Then, with visible reluctance, he said, “A black hole.”


    A heavy silence settled over the newsroom.


    The anchor’s voice cracked. “That’s impossible. A black hole can’t just—”


    “I know,” Carter interrupted. “But it’s the only explanation. And if I’m right… we don’t have much time.”


    ***


    The White House – Crisis Meeting – 12:30 PM


    President Cole sat rigidly at the head of the Situation Room table, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. The massive digital screen in front of them displayed real-time footage of the anomalies spreading worldwide.


    “Tell me we have a solution,” he said, voice hoarse.


    The Secretary of Defense exchanged glances with the Chief of Staff, then cleared his throat. “Sir… there is no solution.”


    Cole’s hands clenched. “What about evacuation?”


    “To where?” The Defense Secretary’s face was pale. “There’s nowhere to run. If Dr. Carter is correct, the entire planet will be consumed.”


    A sharp knock on the door. An aide rushed in, face drenched in sweat. “Mr. President, we have something… urgent.”


    He handed over a folder, hastily printed from classified records. Cole flipped it open. His breath caught.


    SUBJECT #326


    Name: [Redacted]


    Committed to St. Augustine Psychiatric Facility


    Reason: Claims of apocalyptic visions. Predicted gravitational collapse years prior.


    Cole’s hands shook as he turned the page, revealing notes from the facility. The patient knew.


    His gaze snapped up. “Get me a direct line to this patient. Now.”


    ***


    Psychiatric Ward – 12:45 PM


    The entire building trembled. Loose papers fluttered from desks. The light overhead flickered wildly.


    I sat calmly on the edge of my bed, staring at the small fracture forming in the ceiling.


    Footsteps. Loud, hurried. The door to my room slammed open, revealing Dr. Harris, his usual arrogance replaced by sheer panic. Behind him, a group of security guards looked equally terrified.


    “YOU—” He pointed a shaking finger. “You knew this would happen.”


    I smirked. “Told you so.”


    The guards raised their weapons, but what was the point? The floor cracked beneath us, an unnatural pull forcing objects toward the growing distortion in the air.


    One of the nurses screamed as she lost her footing, sliding across the room—straight into the expanding void. She vanished with no sound, no trace. Simply erased.


    Chaos erupted. People ran. Some begged. Some cried.


    I simply stood, closing my eyes. “Finally.”


    Finally, I wasn’t alone in my nightmare anymore.


    ***


    Worldwide – 1:00 PM


    Across the globe, the earth split apart. Cities folded inward, entire continents bending like paper. Planes fell from the sky, swallowed mid-air. Time and space crumbled.


    Billions cried out in terror. Some prayed. Some cursed. Some simply accepted.


    A fisherman in Norway watched in horror as the ocean tilted sideways, massive waves curling unnaturally before vanishing into the void. His boat cracked in two, and then—nothing.


    In Paris, lovers kissed atop the Eiffel Tower, their final embrace frozen in time as the air twisted into a vortex of stars and shadows.


    In Tokyo, a mother held her child tightly, whispering lullabies as they were pulled into the sky.


    In London, a violinist played his last song, even as the streets twisted beneath him.


    In New York, a lone journalist whispered his final broadcast:


    "This is… the end."


    Meanwhile, deep in the Amazon rainforest, indigenous tribes watched in horror as the sky darkened into an abyss, the stars themselves vanishing one by one.


    On a lonely road in Texas, a trucker slammed the brakes, staring at the swirling void forming in the sky. “Well, shit,” he muttered, lighting a cigarette. “Guess I ain''t making my delivery.”


    The world ended in silence.


    ***


    Psychiatric Ward – 1:02 PM


    The last of the hospital crumbled around me. The void expanded, stretching time and space beyond comprehension. My body elongated, pulled in a million directions at once.


    Spaghettification.


    So this is what it feels like.


    I laughed. A true, genuine laugh.


    And then—nothing.


    Darkness.


    Silence.


    I should have ceased to exist. My atoms should have been scattered across time.


    But I was still here.


    Drifting.


    Alone.


    Why?


    Then—pain. A blinding headache. Images flashing in my mind.


    I saw it again. The singularity. The Tower Realm. The truth.


    Something was waiting for me beyond the black hole.


    And this… this was only the beginning.