Semi-Daily Scribbles

The vapour materialized without provocation. Mist billowed from hollowed out trunks and turned the atmosphere rank. Bebe knew better than to be stranded on the road as the storm approached, but then she was a reckless woman. Precipitation laid an easy escape to waste, and Bebe slipped on one of her many transgressions. Her mistakes mounted, but she repeated them often because the outcomes were so pleasurable.

Wealth.
Notoriety.
Power.

Bebe swindled strangers and relations, rich and poor, to ensure her name never left people's lips. Bebe was chaos in bodily form, and the next trick up her sleeve was to tame the elements. The universe was hers to shape as she pleased. The universe, to make sport of Bebe's plans, employed a trick or two of its own. The storm raged, the road stopped short, and time ran out. Bebe's fate closed in, its fetid breath hot on her skin.