Winsome, losesome

Once upon a time there was a girlchild named Beatrice by her parents but called bob by her twelve siblings.

At one she was a pretty baby, at five a precocious kinder whiz, and at sixteen, the bell of the Christmas Angel Ball. By twenty-two she had taken over the world several times, built a rickety water park in her Nana's back yard, and learned how to split Important Particles simply by quirking one brow.

But: alas, alack. For all was not to remain tea and TimTams. As bob's thirtieth birthday approached, the Worm Turned and odd things began to happen after dark at chezBeatrice.

It all began on a Monday, just before midnight, as bob sat before the small glowing box in her eartquake retrofitted American flat, innocently Buffying her nails and slurping lightly Spiked darjeeling.

The knock came once, twice, thrice. bob tossed her file to the floor, paused the boob tube, and peeked out the front window.

Her scream diced atoms and made exotic baryons pause their dance.