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

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By Wendy C Allen
eelkat_red_scarf.jpgWendy 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:

The introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series. 

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:

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.

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.

Health update: August 4, 2026 - in recovery for 6 months+ (at least until mid-January 2027...all book and video game releases are pushed back at least 6 months) see video below for why...
@eelkat

health update #maine #disabilityawareness #wheelchairlife #wheelchairvlogger #multiplesclerosis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat Health update: #chickenpox #bellspalsy #RamsayHuntsyndrome #paralysis #recovery ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

I seem to have had another stroke (during the night while I was asleep?) #stroke #paralysis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

Update Sept 3, 2026:

I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.

I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy. 

update sept 7, 2026

"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?

I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.

So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.

see video below for more information: 


@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

update Sept 15, 2026:

I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed

you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?

all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,

well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.

waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.

update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine

Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.

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



Articles For Writers on How To Write & Publish A Rapid Release  Series

Want to write like I do? You want this page:

Writing Mindset Shift & Lester Dent vs Kishotenketsu

w/Thoughts on Being one of Dr. Lindstrom's 200 PenPal Students (NaNoWriMo & NovNov 2025)


plus

Polyamory Beyond Fetish: Writing Multi-Partner Relationships

and

Writing Blind Characters

Plus

Elves and Very High, High Elves 

VS

Unicorns and Phookas and Demons

and also

What exactly makes an Elf an Elf?
(What is the definition of an Elf?)

but

Noses, Penis Piercings, And Rapunzel Hair

and

Need Help Defeating Overpowered Fantasy Wizards?

+

Wizards and More Wizards

and Even More Wizards

and Still More wizards

and

MAKE VILLAINS EVIL AGAIN: A WRITER’S BATTLE CRY TO RECLAIM THE DARK SIDE

Have you ever considered:

How Things In Your Life Affect Your Writing

or

Currency In Worldbuilding

and

The Dangers of World Travel

or 

Dragging a Body Through The Snow

and

Talking While Falling Asleep

or

Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers

or

I have everything but the kitchen sink...
wait, how'd that kitchen sink get in my pocket?

Writing Absurdist Fantasy Books

but

How long does it take to reach 1667 words? and 50k in one day - is it possible?

plus

What is the average typing speed?

plus

What (self-publishing) platform pays the most (for books)? My top 3 picks. Comparing my results from different places.


and

Knowing what to include when describing the surroundings of a scene

also

Validation Is a Cult

and

Open Strong, Stay Loud

and 

Where are the writers who love writing?

plus

Self-Publishing Success: Does Anyone Ever Succeed at Self-Publishing?

and

Where To Get Writing Ideas?

and

Writing What You Know Might Not Be What You Think It Is

and

Why I do not attend writing groups...are they all like this or just the ones in Maine?

but also

Don't Forget To Just Write 

because Yes, You Can!

Plus

The Park Bench Method of Writing (with 10k writing prompt list)

or

The Park Bench Method of Writing (just the article)

plus:

How did you build your audience?
Not online, that's for sure.
aka How to sell ten million books
aka How I sold ten million books.

Need Writing Prompts?

Conversations with ChatGPT on the art of writing

The Park Bench Method of Writing








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Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻
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Wheelchair Fundraiser

@eelkat

i just found out there is yet another bizarre rumour going around. where are these wild rumours coming from? who is starting them? and why?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

since I've been flooded with hundreds of messages the past two weeks asking if I still own "the world's most haunted car", yes, and here it is, filmed today May 18, 2026… but my son Xavier is dead, i am crippled and given that people are AGAIN showing up calling my Dodge "haunted", calling my friend "an alien", calling me "transgender", and spreading wild defamation slander connecting me to Stephen King, I think I need to start taking down the contact information of every blogger, podcaster, youtuber, and social media account spreading these rumors, and sue every single one of them for CAUSING my car to be cut in half May 10, 2010, for CAUSING the backhoe that drove over my house August 8, 2013, for CAUSING my son's murder November 14, 2013, for CAUSING me to be crippled and in a wheelchair November 14, 2013, and for CONTINUING to CAUSE harassers to show up in person to harass me near daily, STILL now in 2026. EVERYONE telling you my car is haunted, telling you my friend is an alien, calling my car "the goldeneagle", calling my friend "Etiole", or trying to connect me or my car to Stephen King, is lying to you. They crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, and 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 identified the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club and the FBI believes that it is friends and family of the woman who did it, are the ones who started and spread the rumors saying my car is haunted, saying I'm an alien abductee, saying all kinds of similar bs about aliens, ufos, ghosts, witchcraft, demons, and Stephen King connections, even though I don't believe in ghosts, aliens, ufos, demons, and had never heard of Stephen King before 30k of his fans showed up in my yard trying to find my car! FBI believes the backhoe driver and the murderer are the same person and it is a developer who wanted my land and so started the Stephen King, ghost, and alien rumors all in an attempt to drive me off my land, and when it didn't work they drove a backhoe over my house, and when that didn't work they crippled me and killed my son. Why are they doing this? How do I get them to stop?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author






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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.

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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.

eelkats_house_before_after.jpgMy 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.

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.

Clairescreenshot.pngIf 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.

zzzz999ClaireRed2016-screenshotIf 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.

Kendrascreenshot.pngIf 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.

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