In the Aftermath of a Supernova

I sit in the packed lecture hall, dizzy from crying, watching matter disintegrate till it’s just me

and the professor. He says a neutron star is what’s left behind after a supernova. A shrunken,

iron-filled heart of a once brilliant celestial body. A furious has-been, spinning violently in

orbit around its partner star, stealing matter from it till it has the mass of three suns.

The professor pauses. He looks at the bruise on my forehead, an expanding universe of many

shades of purple.

He says neutron stars become black holes eventually.

He says nobody gets out of that alive.

This story won first prize in the June monthly micro fiction competition.

About the author: Eleanor Luke lives in Spain with her husband, two teenagers and a small menagerie. She writes short stories and flash fiction that have appeared in the ‘The Dribble Drabble Review’, ‘FlashFlood’ and ‘The Birdseed’. Twitter @Eleanor_Luke24