Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978)
Happy 2026!
It is our 30th anniversary here at Space Dock 13!
On the web since 1996!
You have encountered an extremely old website that continues to exist in old web ways, the same way it has done for now three decades.
In spite of being now 30 years old this year, started in 1996, it is still heavily active and old pages updated daily, new pages added daily, still now in 2026. All hand written, all hand coded (no AI), all by me, same as it ever was.
We Still Exist: The Old Web Did Not Go Away, You Just Forgot How To Find Us
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This site was NOT designed for mobile devices (as they had not been invented yet when I created it) thus this site looks best on a computer, at 1280x768 or above. |
This is a very old website created in 1996, so, yes, javascript is needed for the site to work as it should. If things don't function, you may need to update javascript drivers on your device |
This site tries to be mobile friendly but it's been online since 1996, so old pages may not load right on mobile devices, and as this site has had pages added near daily for 30 years there are now over 20k pages here. |
Having started out in life as a GeoCities site, this site contains glitter, bright colours, blinkies, moving gifs, and other things the old web was known for. |
Quaraun The Insane
City of the Screaming Statues
The Dungeon Master With The 1974 AMC Gremlin
City of the Screaming Statues
The Dungeon Master With The 1974 AMC Gremlin
Home / The Quaraun Series: Yaoi Novel Excerpts | Free To Read Online / Quaraun The Insane : City of the Screaming Statues-The Dungeon Master With The 1974 AMC Gremlin
f you are here looking for aliens, ufos, demons, cryptids, haunted cars, curses, Etiole, the wild man of old orchard beach, the goldeneagle car, the white monkey, or any of that other weird bullshit, you want this video:
...and after that video, you want these ones:
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 Wendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again.Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title. List of the published titles still in print: The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series What the series is about, for those new here: |
If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters:
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My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.
As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.
There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.
Coming soon (Nov/Dec 2026)... patterns for my slow stitched embroidery:
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The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.
There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.
I shouldn't have to say this, but people keep contacting me, so apparently I do:
- No, I do not believe in aliens. Stop contacting me to ask for alien information. If you believe in aliens, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, my car is not haunted. I've debunked that rumour many times now. . Stop contacting me to ask for haunted car information. If you believe in haunted cars, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, I am not connected to Stephen King. I didn't even know who he was until you idiots started contacting me asking about him. I had to look him up on Google to find out what you were even talking about! If you have questions about Stephen King, go contact him and ask him. I'm not him. I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I've never read one of his books. I've never seen one of his movies. I can't figure out why you people are even coming to me to ask about him in the first place!
- If someone told you I believe in aliens, if someone told you my car was haunted, if someone told you I was connected to Stephen King, you NEED to contact the FBI agent in charge of my son's murder investigation and TELL HIM WHO it was who told ou, exactly WHAT it was they said, HOW they contacted you, WHERE they contacted you... because it is a KNOWN FACT that my son's murderer is the one who started all these slanderous alien, haunted car, Stephen King rumours, and the FBI is trying to catch her.
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Do you know who this woman is?
On August 8, 2013 she drove a backhoe over my house. On November 14, 2013 she arrived at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me with a golf club and murdered my son. One June 24, 2016, days after my first attempts to walk again, she attacked me with a shopping cart at Scarborough, Walmart, reinjuring the Nov 14, 2013 injury.
She crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet id-ed the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club.
Complete details of EVERYTHING she did is on this page here.
 The golf club woman who called herself Clair as she looked November 14, 2013. Her hair is a weird chin leangth pageboy (very Medival style cut) platinum blonde with wide brown/black dyed stripes in it (like a reverse of Lily Munster, but the stripes are several, almost like a zebra). I am 5'6" and she was a LOT taller then me, like closer to the height of a man; she had thin lips like a man, and large nose like a man... she COULD have been a man disguised as a woman, given the ease with which she severed my spine....she's is a LOT stronger then is typical for a woman). She was wearing a chambre blue denim "blazer jacket over shirt" and a button up mens shirt (possibly flannel) and blue jeans. The bulk of her yelling was focused on accusing me of being transgender, even while ripping my baby out of my 8 month pregnant belly and bashing his head in with a golf club. |
 The Claire woman as she looked during her shoping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart June 2016, the attack with left me paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Her hair was dyed dark red, and she drove away in a gold Volvo 240 Station Wagon of a late 1980s/early1990s model, with a "458" on the lisnce plate.... If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
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If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Good god! We just found out about yet another slanderous rumour this woman has been spreading? When does it end? How many more of these things are out there?
Video explains what else she's done ...
If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
 If you encounter anyone claiming my car is haunted, demon possessed, or somehow connected to Stephen King please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
If you encounter anyone claiming I believe in aliens or was an alien abducttee, please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.  If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
I am sick and tired of people not giving a shit that my son was murdered!
I am sick and tired of jackasses making up rumours and lies about me and my car, calling me an alien abductee and my car haunted, just to try to cover up my son's murder!
Quaraun The Insane City of the Screaming Statues
The Dungeon Master With The 1974 AMC Gremlin
Free Sample Excerpt From The Novel
(No clue what chapter it is, it's anyone's guess)
The City of The Screaming Statues
The Dungeon Master With The 1974 AMC Gremlin
Quaraun opened his eyes and stared up at the high beamed ceiling overhead. He knew he had been in a forest and wondered where he was now. He considered sitting up and looking around to see where he was, but felt as though he'd vomit if he tried so didn't. He closed his eyes again and listened to the sounds around him to see if they told him anything about where he was. What he heard was lots of strange, yet familiar bubbling and boiling sounds, indicative of an alchemist's laboratory, along with the mixture of herbal, metallic, and chemical smells that came with it.
Quaraun opened his eyes again and slowly tried to sit up on one elbow, without hurting his wounded side. The room looked exactly as it sounded and smelled. Most definitely an alchemist' laboratory. Off to one side of the room, was a very young half-Elf.
The boy's long golden curls were the most unnaturally eye blinding shade of phosphorescent neon yellow he'd ever seen. An adolescent, the equivalent of a 16 year old boy, had he been a Human. He was sitting in a big red arm chair, something that he had brought back from the 1990s. Around him on the tables and floors were stacks of books.
Quaraun looked around the room. Every inch of it's walls were floor to ceiling with bookshelves, all packed full of books. Books unlike any books Quaraun had ever seen before. Books with bright coloured covers, and glossy paper spines. Most of which seemed to be written in the Human's English language and all saying the words Dungeons and Dragons on their spines.
Quaraun's attention went from the yellow haired half-Elf and his endless piles of books, to the big metal machine sitting at the end of the bed. It was as big as the bed itself, painted orange, with yellow flames down it's sides, and the strangest looking wheels Quaraun had ever seen. It looked like a statue of a monsters, with 2 big glass eyes glowing at him, and a shining silver grin on it's huge metal mouth.
"What is that?" Quaraun asked, pointing to the giant orange monstrosity sitting in the center of the room.
"It's a Gremlin," The young half-Elf said.
"A what?"
"A 1974 AMC. Very rare. Collectible. Made them in America."
"America? Where's that?"
"That's where we are. Or it well be, once the Europeans discover it. They haven't done that yet. It's too soon."
"Never heard of it."
Quaraun stared at the 1974 AMC Gremlin wondering what it was.
"What does it do?"
"The Gremlin? It takes you places."
"How?"
"Same way a wagon does. Only without oxen or horses."
"A magic carriage?"
"Something like that."
"It's looks like a giant pumpkin."
"Yes. It does. Right now it's out of gas. I have to go back and find some. Got to get the time right though. It takes leaded gas. They only made that short while. It's illegal after 1993."
"Why do you have it?"
"Every one has them."
"I've never seen one before."
"Oh no of course not. By the 20th century, everybody has one. Not Gremlins. Gremlins are rare. But motor cars. Every one has at least one. Most people have 2 or 3. They're dreadfully useful. They'll get you half way around the world in 3 days. Of course then the police arrest you for speeding and then you have to explain how you came to be in America without citizenship or driver's licenses or..."
"What are you talking about?"
"They haven't been invented yet."
"They ... haven't ... been ... invented..." Quaraun repeated the words quietly to himself.
"I brought it back from the future with me, after I realized it was easier to drive it here then try to get American citizenship so I could get a driver's licence. Plus I kind of disappeared out of the jail cell. Portal. And now I'm wanted for... I don't... everything I guess. Grand theft auto, car jacking, evading a police officer, but how was I to know what the blue lights meant? I'd never seen a police car before. Heck I'd only just seen this car for the first time. Then there was driving without a licence, being in the country without a green card. Got to find out what that is so I can get one. Driving 125 in a 25 zone... I get the impression 100 miles over the speed limit was rather frowned upon. Here, the police gave me a list of the charges. Where did I put it?"
The half-Elf began pulling things out of the dozens of pockets that were up and down the front of his long dark green velvet trench coat. Quaraun raised a questioning eye brow as he watched the things coming out of the coat pockets. Books. Dolls. Bottles. Candles. Plates. Bags of pastries. Books. Loaves of bread. Cookies. Candy. Apples. Oranges. Spare gas cans. Snow shoes. Snow shovels. Kites. Sheep.
The half-Elf stared that the sheep.
"Gretchen? How'd you get in there? I'd wondered where you went."
"Why don't you just put the Gremlin in your pockets," Quaraun said sarcastically. "You seem to have everything else in there."
"Normally I'd keep it outside, but, I have to hide it from people. They think it's a demon. 15th century minds you know."
"Ah. Yes. No. I don't know. I haven't got a clue what you are talking about. Are you saying you walk through time?"
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"The soldiers that hurt you. They were after me. I came out of a portal, right in front of a tank. Soldiers everywhere. I ran back through a portal to get away from them, and they were too close behind me, so some of them came through with me. Wow. It was a good thing the tank didn't come through. You'd be dead. Would have run right over you and crushed you flat. I gotta be more careful where I set up my portals. I've sent them back to the Persian Gulf where they belong, though... uhm... I'm not sure I got them back in the right year. I can't remember what year that war was. It was 1997 or 1979 or 1797? Oh dear. I should have paid better attention to what year it was. I hadn't expected any one would come through to here."
"You like to talk a lot don't you?"
"There's never any one around here to talk to."
"There's Gretchen," Quaraun said pointing to the sheep.
"Yeah. I rescued her from Proctor and Gamble."
"Proctor and Gamble?"
"Worst monsters on the planet. They build massive slaughter houses and torture animals to death in the name of science. I find families here in the 1400s who need cows for milk, hens for eggs, and sheep for wool, then head back to the 1980s, gather them all up out of the P&G test labs. Bring them back here where they are safe. Science should never hurt any one."
"You're an alchemist, aren't you?" Quaraun asked the young half-Elf.
"Something like that."
"What are you if not an alchemist?"
"I'm a wizard, but I do alchemy too."
"You're a wizard?" Quaraun could not hide the tone of disbelief in his voice.
"Yes. Why does that surprise you?"
"You look young."
"What does age to do with it?"
Here's The Original Release Cover Art
From 2012
"It takes decades to learn magic arts well enough to call yourself a wizard."
"My father was a sorcerer. I started my training young."
Quaraun laughed, and then moaned from the pain in his side.
"Oh, that hurt. I shouldn't laugh."
"Why do you laugh?"
"You just look so young."
"You look young," the half-Elf said to Quaraun.
"I don't age. I'm a lot older then I look."
"Why don't you age?"
"Thullid."
"You have Demon blood?"
"I suppose you could put it that way. I'm a full blooded Elf. But I have a Thullid in my head. It's a parasite."
"It stopped you from aging?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"I... uhm... I'm not entirely sure. BoomFuzzy died about 300 years ago. That makes me around 400 years old. More or less. I don't keep track."
"You are very old."
"I am. Why do you compare my age to yours?"
"Are you not a wizard?"
"Do you know who I am?"
"No. But you look like a wizard."
"Most people think I look like a prostitute."
"Yeah, there's that too. But that does seem to be the standard way female wizards dress in the future. You should see the ones at ComicCon. Prostitutes wear more clothes, and far less trashier clothes then 20th century female wizards do. You're just ahead of your times. In a few centuries from now, every wizard is gonna be dressing in slit skirts and bustiers just like you are doing now. And compared to the rest of them, you're not that slutty at all. In fact most of them would say you were over dressed."
"Over dressed?"
"If people think you look like a hooker, they should take a look at string bikinis and mini-skirts."
"What's a bikini?"
"It's two strings, with three triangles. Two over your nipples and one over your crotch. Everything else completely naked. You should see it around here in the summer in the 1980s. Men are wearing bikinis by then too. And that's just regular people. So, yeah. you might look like a prostitute in this time period, but in the future you'd be way over dressed. No one would mistake you for a prostitute then. You kind of look like a Muslim actually. They wear a lot of layers of glitter and silks like you do. In the 1900s when women wear as much clothe as you got on, people call it modesty and covering up. People in this time period are so weighted down, that you look like you're running around in your undergarments to them."
"I AM running around in my undergarments."
The young half-Elf held up the book he had been reading: Dungeons & Dragons Player's Option Heroes of The Elemental Chaos by Richard Baker and Robert J. Schwalb. He flipped to page 36 where it said: Chapter 2 Character Themes.
"See? boobs on parade. And this is just every day dress. No one bats an eye at a woman dressed like that."
On that page was a picture of a female Elf wizard, with albino white skin, long white hair, and foot long thin pointed ears just like Quaraun's. She was wearing a very slutty, next to nothing dress that showed off her over sized cleavage, while she was throwing a lightening orb at a frost draco-lich. A red haired Elf wizard beside her, also skimpily dressed in even less clothen then the first, barely covering her nipples, leaving the rest of her boobage fully exposed, was using her staff to shoot fire bolts at a Frost Giant.
Quaraun started to say something but the sound of bleating sheep distracted him.
"Are there more sheep in the room?"
The young half-Elf looked towards the sheep.
"Yeah."
"Why are there sheep in the room?"
"I like sheep."
"Okay. I suppose that's an answer."
The young half-Elf stood up and left the bed side, to quickly return with a different sheep. Not Gretchen. It was no ordinary sheep. It's long Costwold curls, gleamed with glistening gold plating.
"That's a golden fleece," Quaraun stated.
"Yes."
"Where'd you find one of them?"
"I make them."
"You... how?"
"I'm a wizard."
"Why?"
"My father was."
"No. Why are you making golden fleece?"
"The Sun Elves like gold. They keep Dwarves as slaves to mine deep into the mountains, and Gnomes chained to their workstations to hammer gold into threads to embroider on their clothes. They would have no need for slaves... well, less need for slaves at least... if they had sheep that grew soft luxuriant gold. So I made some."
"Sun Elves are High Elves."
"Yes."
"Last I knew they shunned wizardry and banned magic and... they cast all their wizards into a Hell Dimension and seal up the portal."
The young half-Elf hung his head in shame, as though he'd just been scolded.
"Yes," he sad glumly. "I'm the last one."
"Last Sun Elf wizard?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you get banished with the rest?"
"My mother. She's the king's favorite daughter. I'm allowed indulgences not afforded to others."
"A half-Elf in the royal family?"
"Yes."
"How'd that happen? Last I knew Sun Elves made a habit of enslaving, abusing, and torturing to death all half-Elves and their parents."
"My mother is the king's favorite daughter."
"So she's allowed indulgences not afforded to others too?"
"No. When the elders banished the wizards to Hell, one of them, the last thing he did, as they sealed up the portal, was to cast a blink spell on the princess."
"Ahhhh. Blinked her into the portal with him, then?"
"Yes."
"And what has that to do with you being a half-Elf?"
"He's my father. I was born in Hell. Raised there too. The Sun Elves, say he kidnapped her and raped her, but... I think they were lovers and... I think that's the real reason they banished the wizards. Nothing to do with magic. They didn't want their princess mothering a half-Elf. Tried to separate the lovers. Didn't work. And now here I am."
"And you're a wizard?"
"Yes."
"Do you specialize in anything? ... other then sheep?"
"I'm a Chaos Wizard."
"Chaos?"
"Time travel. Portals. Demons. Familiars. Faerie Magic. Chaos Magic."
"Chaos magic?"
"Yes."
"That's dangerous. And advanced. Very advanced. Not a lot of wizard's can master it. And no schools teach it. It's forbidden. Banned by the Guild. And it's not wizardry. It's sorcery. Where'd you learn Chaos Magic?"
"I told you. My father taught me. He was a sorcerer, but I'm not. I'm a wizard."
"You make a distinction?"
"You just did."
"Yes, but Chaos Magic is always sorcery. Never wizardry. So I'm confused as to how you call yourself a wizard and not a sorcerer."
"Sorcery is Blood Magic."
"It is."
"Sacrifices and blood letting. Death. Cutting up innocents. People and animals."
"Yes. Many a murder has been done in the name of magic. Which is why Chaos Magic is on the Guild's list of types of magic forbidden, banned, and practitioners of it are executed on sight, no trial."
"I've never shed blood. I don't kill anything. And I never will."
"You practice Chaos Magic without blood?"
"Yes."
"How's that going?"
"Very well."
"You're not very old are you?"
"You already asked that."
"Yes, but if you're father was any kind of a wizard worth his salt, I would know him."
"Would you?"
"Yes. I would."
"Are you sure?"
"You really don't know who I am, do you?"
"No. Should I?"
"Who was your father?"
"I'm not supposed to say."
"Why?"
The young wizard looked nervously around, then leaned close to Quaraun and whispered.
"He was evil. One of the Guild's top 10 most wanted."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Hamsa
Eye of The Grigoi
Eye of the Watchers
Eye of God
Hand of God
Eye of Protection
Evil Eye
Gypsy Curse
"Well, then I know I know him."
"How?"
"I'm the Guild's top most wanted wizard."
"Are you?"
"I am. It's why I can't stay any where long. Always on the run these days."
"My father didn't run. He fought back. He should have run."
"Who was he?"
"I can't say."
"Why not?"
"The king won't let me."
"Why?"
"Guild members live here."
"Do they? Hmm." Quaraun thought for a moment. "Good to know. And where is HERE, exactly?"
"This is Saco Bay Estuary at the Saco River Delta."
"You're in the Sun Elf village, the Garden By the Sea."
"Garden By the Sea? I've been here before. The Forest of No Return. How near are we to the blueberry fields? The ravine?"
"The ravine is right beside us. The blueberry fields are a 10 minute walk from here. You can walk to them through the ravine. We're in the apple orchards here. The beach is right there. Ocean's right at my front door."
"How'd I get here?"
"A pair of Sun Elves found you. I didn't bring you here. I would never have brought a wizard here. I don't think they knew you were a wizard or they probably would have gutted you right in the road where you lay when they found you. And this is my house. You're in my bed. I think they thought you were a she-Elf too. And I think they think you are an aristocrat. They wouldn't have helped you otherwise."
"No?"
"Oh no. You look wealthy. The way you were dressed. Had you been poor or dark skinned or not an Elf or... well, anything not them... they would have killed you themselves."
"Supremacists?"
"Yeah. Rather fanatical. Very extreme. It's why I live done here on the beach, kind of... not in the village. They don't like me. Half-Elf."
"Then why'd they bring me to you?"
"I'm the closest thing this town has to a healer, so they brought you to me."
"YOU'RE a healer?"
"No. Just the closest thing in the area to one."
"You're a kid."
"I'm smart for my age. Which, isn't hard to do in this time period. A 1980s kindergartener has a better education then the average adult does around here."
"Kindergartener?"
"Five year old Humans. Named after a type of school they have in the future."
"Are you saying no tended to my wounds, but you?"
"Yep."
"I hate to ask, but, how does someone as young as you, have the knowledge to stitch up my wounds, like this?"
"Books."
"Books?"
"Yeah. I went back to the future and I went to the hospital and I took a bunch of books off the shelves in the back rooms. I figured some of them had to tell me what to do. And then I went back and got ll the supplies and stuff to sew you up with."
"You're quite resourceful."
"Well I live here, don't I?"
"You live on the beach?"
"Yeah."
"Alone?"
"Yeah. Well, I have my sheep. Their's more in the pasture outside. And I have my books."
Quaraun looked around at the many thousands of books that filled practically every inch of the room.
"Where's your family?"
"My mom, she... she... she lives with her family."
"HER family?"
"Yeah."
"Her own son is not a part of her family?"
"I'm illegitimate Demon spawn."
"Demon spawn?" Quaraun shook his head. He'd heard that term before. It was common for Elves to toss hateful labels like that on half-Elves. "Where's your father? You said he taught you magic?"
"My dad... he got... banished. I've been trying to find him. I don't know what portal they put him in. Or what time period."
"Do you have any siblings?"
"My siblings are all pure blooded. My mum's husband, he's not my dad. I'm half blooded, unloved, and unwanted. My father wanted me, but my mother took me away from him, but then her father didn't want me."
"None of them cares enough... I'm sorry. That's not right. Elves are not solitary."
"I'm just a half-Elf."
"JUST a half-Elf? What kind of racist crap is that? Elves are communal creatures, we should never live alone. Not one of us. Not even a half-Elf. You belong with a family. So young living out here alone. Isn't that rather dangerous? Weather around here is rather harsh isn't it?"
"Yeah. Especially in the late summer, when the big storms hit and in the winter when the snow squalls hit and in deep winter when the blizzards hit."
"Why not move inland more?"
"It's safer here."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"What dangers lay inland that could be more life threatening then the weather?"
"The Sun Elves."
Quaraun could see nervous fear shadow over the half-Elf's face. Fear that came from abuse and bullying.
"Are you not yourself a Sun Elf?"
"My mom was."
"They don't consider you a Sun Elf?"
"They call me... they... they..." Tears filled the boy's eyes.
"What would happen if you went into the Sun Elf village?"
"They'd tie me to a horse and let it drag me through the streets."
"Has that happened to you?"
"Yeah."
"Because you're a half-Elf?"
"Yeah."
"You're just a child."
"Yeah. But I'm a half-Elf."
"Racism that big of a problem around here?"
"Yeah."
"And you live here by yourself?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have any friends?"
"There's my mother. I see her sometimes. She sneaks away every few months to visit me."
"Where is she?"
"That big mansion, the one with the clock tower. You can see it from here."
"Is she a Sun Elf?"
"Yeah."
"I lived there for a few months with her."
"What happened? Why'd you leave?"
"Stocks. Bonds. Iron maidens. Judas chairs."
"They tortured you?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"They're full blooded High Elves. I'm a half-Elf. I have tainted blood. It's what they do. I escaped. After the horses. The horses, kept running, out into the woods. Rope broke. Horses kept going. I dragged myself down into the ravine. Found a cave. Hid there for a few weeks. Then, I found this little house here on the beach. It used to belong to an alchemist. He died. No one's lived here since. I found stuff I needed to heal my injuries and just never left."
"The Sun Elves don't bother you here?"
"No. They say this area is cursed. The swamps between the ravine and the beach. They say it's Fae territory. Don't dare to come out here past the Faeries, so they leave alone. I guess they figure, sooner or later the Faeries will get me. Funny thing is, though, whenever someone gets sick or injured, they bring them out to me for help."
"You said I was a wizard and a male. But they thought I was a wealthy she-Elf. How do you know things about me, but they don't?"
"Well, I had to undress you to tend your wounds and you got more between your legs then a she-Elf does."
"How did you come to the conclusion that I'm a wizard?"
"Your coin purse. That's a bag of holding you got there."
"Bag of holding?"
"Yeah, all I could get out of it was gold coins."
"That's all you should get out of it. Why were you poking through it to begin with?"
"I... uhm... bad habit."
"Bad habit? Opening other people's purses is a bad habit?"
"Yeah."
Quaraun looked at the car sitting in the bedroom and thought about the half-Elf's rambled story of police.
"Are you a thief?"
"Yeah."
"And you're stupid enough to admit it?"
"No. Not stupid... just... I... I'm used to moving things from one time period to another and... it... uhm..."
"I get the idea. You steal things from time period, to change history of another time period."
"I'm not trying to change time... I just... I gotta eat you know? And these books are expensive. Can't afford 'em."
"Do you not get enough to eat?"
The boy shook his head.
"You'd like the candy wizard. Or he'd like you. He likes fattening up children with sugary sweets. Of course he likes eating them once he's got them plump. It's trying times when children are forced to steal in order to not go hungry."
"That's why a bag of holding is good to have. You can pack it full of food and no one but you can see it."
"A bag of holding is very expensive. Takes a dragon's hoard to afford one."
"Yeah."
"You're coat seems to be made out of lots of bags of holding. Looks like every pocket you have is one."
"Yeah. I can carry whole house fuls of stuff with me and it adds no extra weight. Light as a feather."
"Where's you get it?"
"I made it."
"You made it?"
"Hmm,uh."
"Where'd you get all the bags of holding to make it out of?"
"I made them."
"You? Made a few dozen bags of holding?"
"Yeah."
"You're a child."
"Yeah."
"There are only a handful of wizards who've masters the technique. It takes a century or more just to learn how to do it. Each one takes years to make."
"Oh no. It only takes a few days to make one."
"Days? That's impossible! How do you make them?"
"I just make a pocket for my coat, and them I create a void space somewhere out in the galaxy, and then I put the portal entrance in my pocket."
"Void space? And portals? That's dangerous. Your coat could envelope you and suck you into a black hole. Where'd you learn to do this?"
The young half-Elf went over to his stack of books and pawed through them. After a few moments returned to Quaraun and handed him the book.
"SpellJammer. Adventures in Space?" Quaraun read the cover out loud.
"Yeah. It's the Dungeon Master's guide. Really rare. I had a hard time getting a copy of it. Bidding wars on eBay are crazy for this one. Hardly ever goes on sale. But it's got some of the best spells in the series."
"It's a spell book?"
"Yep. I'm a Dungeon Master."
"You're a what?"
"I've been teaching myself all the spells in all of these books. I'm gonna be the most powerful wizard on the planet some day and then I'll be able to find my father. You're one of the most powerful wizards there is."
"How can you tell?"
"You're bag of holding. You've got all sorts of protection spells on it. Can't break 'em."
"You tried?"
"Yeah. I'm good at picking any lock, mundane or magical, and I couldn't pick those. Not no way, not no how. Once I realized they were Lich spells and you were protecting a Lich and had it's phylactery in there."
"Which you discovered how?"
"He... I.... uhm...."
"He? Who?"
The half-Elf suddenly looked very frighted, realizing he had said too much.
Quaraun looked around the room. His clothes and his bag of holding were carefully placed on a table near the bed. He was now awake enough to be seeing more clearly and he was seeing very clearly that not all of his things were in the room with him. Anger suddenly boiled inside the Necromancer.
"Where's my Lich," Quaraun snarled at the half-Elf.
"They took him. I tried to stop them. They didn't know you were a wizard or they would have taken you too."
"Who?"
"The Guild."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I wasn't there. I don't know what happened. They said he was a Necromancer. They executed him. Or they tried to. The next day... At first they thought he was a vampire, so they executed him different the next day, but then the third day, he came back alive again. They just started killing him over and over again and they realized he was a Lich and they...
but they didn't suspect you. They thought he attacked you. They thought you were his victim. They're crazed with wizard hating and... at first I didn't realize you were a wizard, until... I realized, every time they killed him.... at the exact moment he died, you'd get worse. Not worse, but it hurt you. You suffering his pain with him and that's when I realized you were soul bound to him, and soul binding is forbidden and... and... I wasn't trying to pry into your business, I just, they were hurting him and it was hurting you and I hate to see any one suffer.... and... I went to see what you had in the bag to see if I could find anything that would help and, all it had in it was 10 gold coins. I set the coins on the table and put the bag with them.
That night, I remembered I hadn't put them back in your bag, so I went to do that and there were 10 more gold coins. I set them on the table. At first I thought I had missed them some how, but when I opened the bag again, there were 10 more gold coins. A few hundred gold coins later I started trying to break through the spell and... I recognized the spells as ones used by Liches and Necromancers who protect Liches, as a series of very powerful spells to hide a Lich's phylactery. And, after a few days of looking through books on Liches and Necromancy I found a reference to a wizard people called "The Pink Necromancer", said he built Liches.
I started thinking it might be you, given the way you were dressed. I couldn't help your Lich. I'm not that powerful enough a wizard to go up against the Guild. They'd have killed me for treason. They barely allow alchemy. As long as they think I'm an alchemist and not a wizard, I'm okay. I've been keeping them from you though."
"Are you even an adult?"
The half-Elf looked down at the floor and did not answer. Quaraun slowly climbed out of bed and unsteadily, tried to gain his bearing.
"How old are you?" Quaraun asked the half-Elf as he set about to redressing himself in his bright pink Thullid silks.
"Seventy-three."
"You're still an Elfling. You are as young as you look. Do you have a name?"
"I can't use my name."
"Why not?"
"My mother named me after my father."
"So?"
"The Guild doesn't know he had a son. If they found out who I am, they'd kill me just for that alone."
"You must have a name people call you?"
"My mother calls me Glinter. On account of my golden sheep."
"Glinter?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, Glinter. Thank you for helping me. Where is Unicorn?"
"Unicorn?"
"The Lich. Where did they take him?"
"His name is Unicorn?"
"No. His name is King Gwallmaiic. I call him Unicorn, because he's a Phooka."
"I don't understand. Why would you call a Phooka Unicorn?"
"Have you ever seen a Phooka's true form?"
"No. No one has."
"I have. A Phooka in it's true form, as it comes from it's mother's womb, is a tiny horse, only the size of a goat, not much bigger then your sheep there. Looks like a Shetland Pony. They have long shaggy black fur, black eyes with no whites and no pupils, rows of fangs instead of teeth, and talon claws instead of hooves. On their forehead grows a spiral horn that gleams as though made of silver. A Phooka is a type of a unicorn. It's a marsh unicorn, native to salt water swamps along the coasts. That's why I call him Unicorn. It's a lot easier to say then King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, Leader of the Lich Lords, every single time I want to talk to him."
"Elf Eater?"
"yes."
"He's the Elf Eater?"
"Yes. Now where is he?"
"The Guild has him."
"Where?"
What are you gonna do?"
"Get him back."
"You can't fight the Guild."
"Yes I can."
"No one can."
"I can. Tell me where they are."
"The Guild banished my father. They trapped him in Hell."
"They won't do that to me."
"You don't know how powerful they are."
Glinter began trembling with fear.
"I do know how powerful they are. And I can fight them. I've fought them before and they're royally pissed over it."
The poor half-Elf stared at Quaraun, though wide fearful yellow eyes. He was too scared to say anything.
Quaraun searched Glinter's face trying to find a reason for his fears. It was then, Quaraun realized, there was no such thing as a yellow eyed Human. That the half-Elf had metallic yellow eyes, with thin slatted reptilian pupils identified him immediately as a half-Elf. Glinter could have passed for a full blooded Sun Elf, were it not for his snake like eyes. Quaraun had noticed the eyes immediately upon waking up, but had passed it off as nothing of note, seeing how they were the eyes of a half-Elf. But Quaraun, had assumed half-Elf, meant half-Human. He had not stopped to think about the possibility that Glinter might have been half-something else.
"What are you?" Quaraun asked.
"I'm a Chaos Wizard."
"Why Chaos Magic?"
"It what my father taught me."
"What was your father?"
"He was a sorcerer."
"The Guild killed every sorcerer. Why didn't they kill your father?"
"He was too powerful."
"Why did they send to a Hell Dimension?"
"To punish him."
"Glinter. You're avoiding the question."
"Am I"
"Yes. Why Hell?"
"I don't know."
"Yes you do."
"No I don't."
"Was he a Demon?"
Glinter was shaking so bad, Quaraun thought the poor half-Elf would faint.
"Was you're father a Chaos Demon? Is that why he taught you Chaos Magic?"
Again Glinter said nothing.
"Was your father the sorcerer, who people called The Ghoul?"
Glinter closed his eyes and continued to not speak.
"Glinter. Look at me. I never meet the Ghoul. But I'm familiar with his work. He trained under Gwallmaiic. Before he was a Lich, Gwallmaiic was a warrior king. A tribal leader in Scotland. I don't know how much of a kingdom he actually had, but he had enough influence to scare people all over the planet. His undead army marched all over the world. They were practically unstoppable. It's hard to kill something that's already dead. The few who weren't dead were Demons or Necromancers or both. He had several very powerful Necromancer Generals who lead his army. Gibedon and The Ghoul were among them. I meet Gibedon."
Quaraun reached into his bag of holding and pulled out the severed head of a Dark Elf.
"I killed Gibedon."
Glinter stepped away from Quaraun.
"You're the wizard who killed Gibedon?"
"I am."
"You're Quaraun the Insane."
"I am."
"You killed Findaru."
"I did."
"You've been killing all the Guild members."
"I have."
"Why?"
"They killed my family. They destroyed my life. Now I'm going to destroy theirs. They took every thing I loved and everything I lived for away from me. I will hunt them for eternity, until every last thing they cared about is destroyed. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It is the Human creed. The Guild is a Human organization. By their own creed, shall they now die. As they have done to me, so shall I do to them. And they are mere Humans. I am a full blooded Elf. I will be the thorn in the flesh of them, their children, their children's children... and I plan to do it for eternity... thus the Liches. I will never let them, their children, or their grandchildren forget what they did to me. The world will know, what they did and generations of their family will live in eternal shame. I will never let any one forget what those bastards did to me and my family. No where did they take my Unicorn?"
"You're hurt."
"That doesn't matter. I need to find Unicorn."
Interview With EelKat
On Writing The Quaraun Series
Random Thoughts On Writing Magic &
Wizards In Fantasy Worlds
A BookTube Reading AuthorTube Edition
Volume 9: The City of The Screaming Statues
Not fully recovered from his ordeal at the Mournful Lamb Inn in the Swamp of Death, Quaraun is rejoined by Unicorn and heads for the coast to rest. Unfortunately a portal opens in the road in front of them and out run Persian Gulf War solders, shooting at an enemy they can no longer see.
Critically wounded by a 20th century weapon, the 15th century wizard, is taken in by a fanatical tribe of High Elves, known as the Sun Elves. Unable to heal his wounds, Quaraun is forced into a deep sleep to save his life.
Timing is bad, as the Guild has just moved into the area, with their ever more violent and increasingly fanatical hatred of all things different then they are. With the Guild torturing to death all wizards, Dwarves, Gnomes, Humans, minorities, Common Elves, and LGBTQ citizens in their path, they now invade Saco Bay's Garden By The Sea in search of the infamous Pink Necromancer, as Quaraun becomes their latest target.
When the black skinned Unicorn is captured by white power fanatics, protecting Quaraun's body from harm is left in the hands of an absent minded half-Elf teenager from the future.
Seeing the the homicidal hate group as the saviors of the land, the Sun Elves join forces with the Guild and turn on the comatose Quaraun, with no one around to save him, but a teenage Dungeon Master from the 1980s, who is trapped in the 1400s, has got a hold of Quaraun's Rainbow wand, and was never told Dungeons and Dragons spells were not real.
Boom Sticks From The Future
To Kill A Lich
The Dungeon Master With The 1974 AMC Gremlin
Elf Against Elf
The King's Dying Children
The Screaming Statues
This novel was originally written on: 2012
This page last updated on: April 13, 2017
On Writing The Quaraun Series
World-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Weird-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Building A Magic System In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Wizards vs Witches vs Sorcerers: How are they different?
- Magic Systems and How to Build Them
- Necromancy: How will resurrection affect society as a whole?
- Spell-casting Side Effects of Magic
- Necromancy FAQ - A Real Necromancer Compares Fantasy Necromancy With The Reality
- Colour Magic - Gypsy Style
- Beware of White Men In Gypsy Clothing: Fake Psychic Scams
- Child Sacrifice in Fantasy Novels
Plotting & Writing Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Ernest Hemingway Style of Writing Literary Fiction Used In Epic Fantasy Novels
- Do you write a novel start-to-finish?
- Ideas, Ideas, Ideas (Where Do You Get Them?)
- Should I plan for ending or just keep writing?
- NaNoWriMo Overachievers: How did you do it?
- How Long is 50,000 Words?
- Why Write 50,000 Words In 30 Days?
- How long does it take to hit 1667 words?
- Average Typing Speed
Character Creation In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Writing Sex In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Disabled Characters In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Drug Use In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Horror In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
Note: there are likely spelling errors on this site, and I am unlikely to see the ... I fix them when I find them, but, there are many issues here...
Note: English is not my first language, Shetlean Scottish is my native language, there are likly spelling and grammar errors, as I do not know American English and am attempting to write it by sounding words out.
Many times that Americans think a word on my site is misspelled, often it is not misspelled, it is just I mixed up languages and wrote it in Scottish without realizing I mixed the Scottish in with the English. Also our grammar is somewhat reversed from English grammar so words that are seeming in the wrong order for American English, is usually because they are in the correct order for Scottish and I either put English words in Scottish order by mistake or was unaware English put them in a different order then Scottish does.
For those unaware, Scottish Shetlean looks like this:
American English to Scottish:
a bit (piece) = a party --- EXAMPLE: "And some know a bit of Latin " > "And somme kan of latyn a party "
a long distance from = A piece fae
a piece of = the bit --- EXAMPLE: "The duck ate a piece of bread " > "The deuk ett the bit breid "
about the banks (on the shore/at the beach) = aboot da banks
accomplishments = kunnandi
After = Back o --- EXAMPLE: " After Halloween" > "Back o Hallomas "
alive (living) = kvikr
Always on the move = Never aff o da go
am I not = amn't I --- EXAMPLE: "Am I not invited? " > "I amn't invited? or Amn't I invited?"
are = is --- EXAMPLE: "Are you going soon?" > "Is ya to be going soon?"
autumn = dah haihst
belong to = fylgja
best = bettah moost
betray (verb) = svíkja
bewildered = villhyggjandi
building = biggin up --- EXAMPLE: "building confidence in everyday use " > " biggin up confidence in ivvryday øs "
built = builded --- EXAMPLE: "He built a new porch." > "Hims builded a new porch."
cast a spell = hoodooed
cat = kat (sounds like "caught") --- EXAMPLE: "Is it an orange cat?" > "Be he a o'jinn kat?"
child = bairn
church = kirk
color = colour
danger = hœttr
daren't = darena
daring = djarfr
dark = dökk
dark elf = Dökkálfr
dark-elves = Døkkálfar
darker = dökká
do you agree = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "That's a fine looking woman, do you agree?" > "Dair's ah right bonnie lass, eh?"
do you want to come too = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "I'm going to the store, do you want to come with me?" > "Me go to shope, eh?"
each = eche --- EXAMPLE: "Which each person can understand " > "That kan eche man understonde "
educated = lered --- EXAMPLE: "Both among the educated and the uneducated " > "As wel among lered as lewed "
elf = Alfr
Elf = Álfr
Elf Home = Álfheimr
Elf World = Álfheimr
elf-advice = Ælfred
elf-beautiful = ælfscyne
elf-friend = Ælfwine
elf-guardian (female) = Ælfwaru
elf-guardian (male) = Ælfweard
elf-powerful = Ælfric
everyday = ivvryday
eyelids = eye ledes --- EXAMPLE: "He closed his eyelids." > "Hims did shut hims eye ledes"
fair = faire --- EXAMPLE: "Going to the fair." > "Done gone went to the faire."
feild = felde --- EXAMPLE: "Standing in the feild." > "Stoodt in thems felde."
further = ferther --- EXAMPLE: "I looked further." > "I dids lokid ferther."
green = grene --- EXAMPLE: "Look at the green hedges and woods." > "Look see at thems heigges and holtz so grene."
handsome = braw --- EXAMPLE: "He is very handsome " > "Him wicked braw "
have faith = trúa
Have no doubts about our doing it = Nae faer o wis
Have no liking for this. = Hae nae brou o this.
have not = ain't
He knows how many beans make five. = He kens the laid frae the croun o the causey.
He knows which side his bread is buttered on. = He kens whilk side his bannock's buttert on.
Head for = Mak wye for
head rope in fishing nets and lines = baak
head to head = Be at the knag and the widdie
horse fly = klegsie
I = Me
I Think = Me thinks --- EXAMPLE: "I think we're late. " > "Me thinks that we is late. "
I wish you well for the future = Lang may yer lum reek (translation: Long may your chimney smoke)
idiot = eejit --- EXAMPLE: "You idiot." > "Ya eejit."
idiot = numpty
if = iffy or yif--- EXAMPLE: "If you don't mind..." > "Iffy yas does no care mind...."; "If you'll stay with me long enough = "Yif ye so longe with me wil dwelle". "
I'll be even with you = A'll see day aboot wi ye
know = ken
looked = lokid
looked = lokid --- EXAMPLE: "I looked up." > "I lifte up me eye ledes and lokid ferther."
magic = hoodoo
naked = nøkkviðr
needle = bodkin
neither = nouther --- EXAMPLE: "Who know neither Latin nor French " > "That kan nouther latyn ne frensch "
No = Nay --- EXAMPLE: "No, I don't think so. " > "Nay, me thinks not. "
Nobody knew = not-knew nobody
Noontide = Da heicht o da day
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "Did you meet the new family next door?" > "Dids ya gets a chance to stop by and meets with thems new folk that move-ed in down yawn there next doors to ya, eh?"
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "He went to Rite-Aid to pick up his prescription" > "Hims did go to that yawn there new fangled store the new folks call that Rite Aid place, to gets himself some of thems there pills what the doctor gone and tells him to take each morning, a-yep, hims did."
old = olde --- EXAMPLE: "But educated and uneducated, old and young " > "Bot lered and lewed olde and yonge "
orange = o'jinn
out = oot --- EXAMPLE: "The cat wants to go out." > "The kat he do wants oot."
outside = oot dair
people = fokk --- EXAMPLE: "the people of Shetland " > "Shetland fokk "
people = folke --- EXAMPLE: "Look at all those people." > "Lookie at all thems folke."
poorly = febelly --- EXAMPLE: "Who know French very poorly " > "That kan frensch ful febelly "
Recognising = Recognisin --- EXAMPLE: "Recognising the bilingual nature of Shaetlan speakers " > "Recognisin da wye at Shaetlan spaekers is bilingual "
shield = skjoldr
Since = For --- EXAMPLE: "Since that is your native language " > "For that is youre kynde langage "
tell = telle --- EXAMPLE: "I'll tell you in English " > "In englysch tonge I schal you telle "
the = da, de, or is not used at all --- EXAMPLE: "I went to the store" > "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to shoppe"
them = dem, dem dair --- EXAMPLE: "I went with them" > "Me goes wit dem dair"
there = dair --- EXAMPLE: "I want those potatoes" > "Me be wanting dem dair tatetas."
they = dey
To where = whither --- EXAMPLE: ""Where you go, I will go." " > ""Whither thou goest, I'll go."
understand = understonde
understand = understonden --- EXAMPLE: "Some understand English " > "And somme understonden englysch "
very = wicked --- EXAMPLE: "very good" > "wicked good"; "very bad" > "wicked bad"; "very cold" > "wicked cold"
Where = Whither --- EXAMPLE: "Where is the restroom? " > "Whither is the privy?"
Yes = Yea or Aye --- EXAMPLE: "Yes, I think so. " > "Yea, me thinks so. " or "Aye, me thinks so. "
For anyone actually interested in learning my native language, the Scottish government has THIS listed as the official dictionary of our people: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/61d7352954b7fd1c9dbdfef4/t/65ddb2749d5e0541a01009c0/1709027964496/Spaektionary_2024feb.pdf
The Scottish government provides this document to show our language in use: https://www.shetland.uhi.ac.uk/t4-media/one-web/uhi-shetland-images-and-documents/documents-/shaetlan/Shaetlan-Language-Plan-2022-Shaetlan.pdf
More information about our language can be found on this website: https://www.iheardee.com which is written in my native language.
However, there is also other reasons why words might be misspelled, or why I might not understand someone when they speak to me.
My grandmother Helen Ricker Allen, was from Unst, Shetland, Scotland, and she the one who raised me. She taught me to read and write, but it was Shetlain that she taught me. She died when I was 8 years old, and I was locked in a woodshed after her furneral, I escaped the woodshed 27 years later at age 31, and have been trying to learn how to speak and write English since then.
It is a very great struggle.
At age 37 I took remidial reading and speaking classes at Southern Maine Community College, but we are Gypsies and Gypsy men do not allow us Gypsy women to have education, and so, while at college, on November 14, 2013, I was beaten with a golf club, while I was 8 months pregnet, breaking my spine, hips, and knees, killing my baby and leaving me quardepaleic since.
Now my primary focus these past 13 years has been on relearning to use my hand so I could type... as of 2023, I have regained the use of my right thumb, and first two right fingers, and after 10 years offline, I am back online due to I can use three finguers.
I never went to school, so I do not know maths and numbers and sciences, and I do not know what else would have been taught to me in school. We are Scottish Gypsies and Gypsy culture does not allow females to go to school. Being born female was already a great sin, but my grandmother took great risk in teaching me reading and writing. At 4 years old I was punished by my Uncle Bruce for knowing how to read, by being beaten in the face with a cinder block brick, that broke my right jaw and left me with garbaled near-mute spoken words ever since.
Because no one ever spoke words to be face to face from he time I was 8 years old until I was 37 years old (I escaped the room at age 27, but did not start college until 37), I have no training in how to vocally sound out or speak the words I write or read. I can read words, but I do not know how to sound out or say those words. I can write words, but I do not know how to match the written word against the spoken word. I struggle to associate spoken words at all, or make them match up with writen words.
Esentially, written words and spoken words are two completly seperate languages in my brain, and I have difficulty understanding spoken words.
If you say a sentance to me with your mouth, chances are very high I will have ZERO understanding of what you said and I will not be able to ander you.
However, if you WRITE down that exact same sentabnce, I can understand you and can type a written responce to you.
My doctors tell me this is a side effect of extreme isolation and neglect and lack of human contact during my toddler, childhood, teen, and young adult years, and that my brain never deveoloped to comprehend spoken vocal words due to no one ever speaking to me in over three decades of the first half of my life.
While I can read and write, American English (somewhat) I do no know how words are sounded out, what they are supposed to sound like. I readand write by shape recognition, not by sound/vocal recognition, so when reading and writing I do no "hear the words in my head" as I am told most people do when they read and write. In other words... I see "c a t" and think "c-a-t" I do not think "cat" nor do I "see" an image of a cat, no do I "hear" the word cat spoken. I'm told that this is very rare and that most people read and write by sounding out the words and linking them to visual mind images, while hearing the sound of the word in their head. I neiher hear words in my head no see images of things in my head. I'm told this is what makes me both a speed reader and speed writer, because I'm not tripped up by hear sounds or seeing images in my head like nomal people would be doing... however, I'm also told this is why my spelling and grammar are very poor, because my brain is not hear the sounds of the words or seeing visual images of the objects the words represent, so my mind also does not register spelling and grammer errors at all.
As I was only let out of the woodshed on Sundays to go to the Cape Elezabeth Ward Church of the August Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I was never allowed to go to school or hospital either. No adults ever talked to me because I was evil for comitted the sin of being born female, so I never learned how to speak properly and do not know how to sound out words to say them.
I was 42 years old, in 2016 when, while having an MRI for my spine, the doctors found out my speak issue was caused by a broken jaw as a toddler that was healed wrong because not being allowed to go to doctors. I had surgury to fix that, and since 2016 have been trying to learn how to use my jaw and touge so I can speak vocal words now.
Since 2023 my primary focus shifted to relearning to walk. I can now, in 2026, sit up for 2 or 3 hours a day, and can sand with a cane for a few minutes, and can walk for around five thousand feet in 2 to 3 segments a day, with the help of pushing my wheelchair like a walker.
As of 2026, with a slight return to using my fingers and legs, I am once again focused on trying to learn the American English, but I live in mortal fear of my uncles and male cousins, as they are so hateful of allowing me to have education.
have no one to help me to know if I am doing words correctly, and as such, I have no way of knowing if there are spelling and grammar errors, but I asume there are, and I fix them when I learn them, but I do not know what I do not know and spelling American words is a thing I do bnot know.
I have Low Fucntioning Kanner's Syndrom, also known as "RainMan Type of Autism" aka REAL and ACTUAL Autism, not to be confused with Aspergers, High Functioning Autism, or and of thr 861 illnesses on the Autism Spectrum. An Autism Spectrum Disorder is an illness that has symptoms similar to Autism but IS NOT Autism. If you have an Autism Spectrum Disorder, it LITERALLY MEANS you do NOT have Autism.
I am medically diagnosed as "kanner's syndrome, actual autism, the rainman type, profoundly retarded autistic savant, with a general IQ of 73, and an writing IQ of 221" but they added that they did not know how to properly diagnose me as I am "technically a feral child" and they don't know "how much is the autism, and how much is simple horrific levels of abuse and neglect induced post traumatic stress disorder that will go away with proper socilization".
It means I know how to write, I can write a lot, and it is next to impossible for you to teach me how to do literally anythig else because my brain only knows how to write and doesn;t know how to do anything else..
There's a reason, when I do book signings, people are quick to say: "Okay, what's the joke? why is this stupid retard here? where's the real author? I know this retard isn't the author. where are you hiding the author, why is this fucking retard here"
The end result is, I have near zero social interaction... my 3 years in college was the ONLY face to face interaction I have ever had with humans in my entire life, and I struggle deeply to understand MOST words used by MOST people when they ask me question. And so I suffer from a huge lack of understanding many words people say to me, how to translate those words into spelling, and how to translate what it is that has been said.
The fact remains hat until there exists a human on this planet who is willing to sit down and teach me what words spoken line up with and match what words written, this deficent is unlily to improve. But the fact also remains, that I am simply far too profoundly retarded for anyone to even try to make any attempt at all even to speak a friendly "hgelloe" or "good morning" when passing me on the street, so I have lost all hope of anyone ever either being my friend, being willing to teach me how to match spoken words to written words, or how to speak to other humans.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂ And if it’s your birthday today: ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐꧁ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ☆ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ꧂🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭 |
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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.
I also write on these locations: | Amazon | Ao3 | Blogger | GumRoad | Medium | Notd | OnlyFans | Tumblr | Vocal |
Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....
... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.
While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.
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My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since. |
The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.
Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.
Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.
Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.
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The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.  If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.
Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.
Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.
Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.
In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.
Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.
But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.
I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.
Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.
Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.
I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.
My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.
Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Important:
Fraudulent sites are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official website for Wendy Christine Allen is www.eelkat.com
Fraudulent social media accounts, particularly on Reddit and FaceBook are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official social media accounts for Wendy Christine Allen are listed in the footer here at www.eelkat.com
Find Me on Social Media:
Any websites and accounts you find online that are NOT on this list are NOT Wendy Christine Allen
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
If you encounter a page which asks for a password, no, you can not request access. There are over 2k pages of this website set to password access, due to the ongoing FBI investigation into my son's murder. If you are a police officer authorized access these pages but do not have the passwords, let me know, I will deliver the passwords to the specific pages you are allowed to access, to you via the Portland FBI office and you can pick them up from the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation.
Pages where you can find out more information on that:
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What's New (Newly Published or Recently Updated or Edited)
IMPORTANT NOTE: There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
If you are one of (as of December 2025, the now more than ten thousand) daily visitors, who arrive here daily in search of SEO advice, I made this page for you:
The Park Bench Method of Writing
Crazy Woman Just Attacked - No Clue Why or Who She Is
Articles For Writers on How To Write & Publish A Rapid Release Series
For Anyone Looking for:My response to MUFON's Amphibious Aliens? My response to Coast to Coast AMs Arrival in my yard?
Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) Yes, I am aware there are a lot of spelling errors on this site. No, I likely will not be fixing most of them. I have been quadriplegia/paralyzed arms and legs since November 14, 2013; As of 2026, I have regained use of two fully functional fingers on my right hand, and only stiff limited movement of all remained eight fingers. This causes most of the typos and spelling errors as my near-dead pinky and ring fingers tend to drag over the other letters on the keyboard. Attempts to correct errors, often causes more errors for the same reason. Much of my writing is also speech to text, but I have "profound low functioning, non-verbal kanner's syndrome aka autism aka the rainman type" (that is what the medical diagnosis called it), I have the medically diagnosed retarded type of autism, that medical doctors mean when they say "real and actual autism", I do not have the cool trend self diagnoses tiktok type of "autism". What this means is, in spite of five decades of trying, I have very limited vocal speaking abilities and a lower then average vocabulary, that leaves my speaking ability around the level of a 4 or 5 year old child; I do not know math or money or clocks and. I also, was raised by a Shetland Scottish Grandmother (Helen Ricker Allen) until her death when I was 8 years old, and she did not speak American, she spoke Shetland/Scottish, Shetlandic, which is a Nordic language, different from Scotts Language, not related to Gaelic which is what many Scottish speak, and while classified as a type of Scottish English is is considered "Olde medieval Norse" dialect of Scottish English and spoken by fewer then two thousand people as of 2026. It is the language of Scottish Travelling Gypsies, which is what we racial are. I was 31 years old first time I ever heard American English, and only started to learn American English at 42 years old. Right now in 2026 at 51 years old, I am able to speak American English on around the level of an 8 year old child, and greatly do not understand over 90% of American words, American slang, and American media references. What this means is, OFTEN words you think are spellt wrong (like color vs colour, or traveling vs travelling, are in fact NOT spelt wrong, because I use Scottish spellings) and often when I hear an American word, I spell it phonetically because I do not know the correct American spelling. Likewise we Scottish do not have words like my or your, and so say me and you, in places where Americans would say my and your. I also use Scottish word meanings, not American word meanings, for example Unicorn means a blood thirsty flesheating shapeshifting sea creature that comes on land and pretends to be a wounded horse to lure in humans to eat, it can only be captured by a virgin. But when I say Unicorn, a word I frequently use, because I write Unicorn folkloric short stories... I find that most Americans connect Unicorns to children's cartoons, gay pride, or swinging sex lives... I struggle to understand who in their right mind thought the most bloodthirsty monster of Scotland folklore was good fodder for children's cartoons or "sex positive" mascots, me thinks Americans need to brush up on the lore of Unicorns using their horns as sword to stabbed people's eyes out, while gallopping through swamps with rows of bloody Human heads hanging from their backs via braids made of Human entrails... really, why did Americans thinks a monster like a Unicorn was fit for children's cartoons or sex positivity? Americans is weird. All this to say... speech to text software, struggles badly with my thick Shetland accent, my slurred Autism speech impediment, and causes additional misspellings and typos because it can not figure out what words I am trying to say. And while I could take the time time to run all of it through a spell checker, that does require better hand mobility then I have, to copy the text from one program to the next and manually click each word, with finger mobility that I simply do not have, but also, most of my time is spent in trying to relearn to walk, and if you are local, you've probably seen this as I'm a stubborn bitch who refused to accept the doctor disnosis that I will never walk again, so, I walk around the block every day pushing my wheelchair, refusing to sit in my wheelchair, and... ...it's taking me 13 years to do it, but, I'm not actually able to stand up and make it all the way around the block now, and my focus on trying to relearn to walk is far more important to me, then catering to your pampered arse by fixing spelling errors, when there are far bigger problems to worry about in life, the spelling errors made by a quadriplegic who is typing this with her only two functioning fingers. Also, in recent years, I've watched the internet devolve into a mindless clusterfuck of ChatGPT written everything. Everyone sounds the same online these days, because no writes their own work anymore. Every website out there has become a carbon copy of each other, because they are all be written by ChatGPT now. I think ChatGPT makes a funny thing to chat with in your spare time, so you can laugh at the hilarity of how inaccurate it's responses are... but I am horrified that people are using AI for serious writing, writing they publish and try to pass off as their own. We live in a society where people people are forgetting how write. Heck I can read and write cursive, calligraphy, italic, short hand, and editor's marks, also edit my books by hand diagraming every sentence, and that... start walking around your neighbourhood and ask anyone under 30 if they sentence diagraming IS, let alone how to do it. So yes, I CAN spell check, and no I don't, for anything but my novels and short story collections, I spell check when it matters... and this is a website, not a printed book... but also, I am just getting so damn fucking fed up with endless AI writing online, so, no, I'm not going to fix errors and typos on my website, and you can bitch about that all you want (yes, I do get your messages, I just don't answer anyone in private) but, honey, maybe instead of bitching over my spelling errors, be thankful is still at least one website on the internet that still being written by a Human now in 2026 when ChatGPT writes over 70% of all posts online. |
Looking for my annual NaNoWriMo Prompts and Dares? I've been publishing these every year since 2004!
 The Park Bench Method of Writing The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane: Paperpacks & Hardcover Editions on Amazon:
Not sure what the series is about? Check out and Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post and Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers and How well do I know Quaraun? - Let's find out! to find out more about the plot and lore of the series. Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:
Or if after reading those, you still are looking for more free to read stories, there are over three thousand of them on this site, too many to list here, but here a few dozen to get you started... ...you can just jump in and try reading some of the free to read online stories first before committing to buying the books:
Hmmm... soooo... I was making the above list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here, and adding it into the footer of my site, here as you can see, which loads on every page, and then I realized... wait... there are over two thousand Pink Necromancer stories up free to read on my website, I can't put two thousand links on every single page! Whoops! LOL! So, now I'm putting list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here on this page instead and just link that page to the footer instead. But also I'll just leave some of the links in the footer, as you can see above.
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
The Space Dock 13 WebRing
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Yes, this website (founded in 1996) is old enough to have WebRings on it, and they are still in use.
Don't know what a WebRing is?
They were how we webmasters used to get traffic to our websites before the invention of search engines (aka before Jeeves, DogPile, Yahoo. Google, Bing, or the rest existed). In their simplest form a WebRing is an html code that rotates link displays. In their more advanced form they are java scripts that give random results. Each ring had three active links titled "Previous", "Random", and "Next", clicking any of the 3 links would take you to the next website in the ring.
Web Rings are the REASON the internet was called "the world wide web". To use them, each webmaster submitted their site to the ring, a single code held 100 websites, and codes could be stacked to hold 100 code sets (or 10,000 links to 10,000 websites), each web master in the list, would then place the code in the footer of their website.
This created the SPIDER WEB that was the literal WEB OF LINKS that gave the internet it's name "World Wide Web" and is WHY websites are CALLED "web sites". And technically, your site is not a WEB site unless it is connected to a WEBRing, likewise you technically are not a WEBMaster if you do not build WEBrings links for you WEBsite to connect to the WEB.
Unfortunately, most knowledge of WebRings, and whi sites were called WEBsites and sites on the WEB were called the World Wide Web, vanished from the internet in 2014 when the official WebRing.org company who managed 90%+ of the internet's WebRings went out of business after the infamous Google Panda 2013 bot attack that delisted ALL websites from the Google Index if they contained a WebRing of links to other websites in it's footer.
And while most sites abandoned the use of WebRing Codes on their sites, Space Dock 13 did not. The Space Dock 13 WebRing remains active, now 28 years after it's creation. Over the decades however, one by one all the other websites in the ring have gone off line, and as they did, I replaced the url with a link to a page of my own website (as this is a java code - it updated on every website without the others needing to change anything). Today in 2026, eelkat.com is the last remaining website in the ring, and now all 10k links go only to pages on eelkat.com, no longer sending you to other websites.
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The Park Bench Method of Writing
IMPORTANT NOTE:
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
Want even more writing prompts?
Do you have information about my son's murder and need the FBI contact information:
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322
If anyone contacts you saying 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, is for sale, know that they are lying to you... it is my land, and it has been in my family since 1531... and the ONLY person whom has EVER gone around saying it is for sale, is a woman who the FBI believes to be the same woman who murdered my son.
My son is buried here, and the FBI believes she is trying to buy my land in order to destroy his grave and destroy evidence of his murder.
Since my son's murder November 14, 2013, every year dozens of real estate agent show up all with a story of a female developer who is offering them MILLIONS of dollars for my lot of land that is only 1/4 of an acre and is not big enough to develop.
When shown police sketches of my son's murderer, the real estate agents say "Yes, that's the woman who hired me to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine", but then the woman disappears and the real estate agents never hear from her again... all contact information she gave them turns out to be fake.
The woman who murdered my son, is DESPERATELY trying to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... this is the woman to watch out for... and this is what she did:
Looking to find out more about my son's murder, that information is on these pages:
Answering the questions:
Can you give me links to the news reports of your son's murder?
and
Why can't I find any news reports about this?
Maine has well over a thousand murder cases that have never been in the news.
I found this out after my son was murdered November 2013, and a year later I found out it had never been in the news, even though I was hounded for weeks by news people. I went to each of the over a dozen TV stations and newspapers whom had showed up at the hospital and asked why they had never published any report after all the trouble they had gone through to (in some cases illegally) het into the hospital to interview me.
in every case they said some version of "well, it just wasn't news worthy, there was nothing we could use to get views". Really? These were big news stations, channel 13, 6, 8, Portland Press Herald, Bangor Daily...
What exactly was it they claimed was "not news worthy"?
I'll tell you.
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. At Southern Maine Community College in the parking lot of The Buglight Art Studio beside the Spring Point Lighthouse.
I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Oh yeah, and I've been quadriplegic for 13 years.
oh yeah one more thing, same trio, they also found out where i lived in Old Orchard Beach and drove a backhoe over my house as well.
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146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine... July 4, 2013 vs August 8, 2013 |
I have been homeless and quadriplegic for 13 years, and right now it's just a few weeks away from both my son's 14th birthday and the 14th anniversary of the day he was murdered, both of which happened the same day.
Explain to me what about any of that is "not newsworthy"?
I did find out WHY it was deemed not newsworthy. "it would negatively impact tourism" was their reason. The College at Fort Prebble is a tourist destination. The lighthouse at the college is a tourist destination. My house on Portland ave is situated on the primary road to the beach that is a tourist destination.
The news reporters explained to me that, they risked losing their jobs if they publicised "negative news" occurring in these sorts of tourist destination spots.
My son's murder wasn't in the news, because it might cause tourists to stop visiting that lighthouse. That was the reason the reporters gave me.
How often are there things not being reported on just so businesses don't lose tourist money?
How often does this happen? A lot, I've since found out. In trying to find other mothers of murdered children to interact with... I found five others JUST in Old Orchard Beach, whom the murders were not in the news, and all of them happened after my son's murder. I found 2 such mothers in Scarbourogh, their children's murders not in the news. I found over a dozen more in the Bar Harbore area, also all not in the news.
It's a very disturbing trend here in Maine, one that I never would have found out about had my own son not been murdered.
One thing's very clear: in Maine you can get away with murdering a child, if you do it in a big tourist location, because news stations REFUSE to report any crime occurring in tourist locations.
Fuck torists.
I don't give a shit about your precious tourist money.
My son was murdered and I want his killer found... and I am VERY displeased with the deplorable way news stations try to bury child murders in Maine, just to appease tourist funded businesses.
And if you're one of those lunatic jackass bullshitting alien abduction UFO freaks, looking for haunted cars, Stephen King, cryptids, or EBEs, first off, you can go fuck yourselves. I am so damned sick of you conspiracy brained motherfuckers harassing my family and turning my son's murder case into a circus of you psycho deranged bullshit. Here's some pages for you:
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