November 14, 2023 was the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322


My Son Was Murdered, The Killer Walks Free, Your Child Could Be Next!

FAQ: What are the most visited pages on this website and how many visits do they get?

Several years ago, I wrote an article on how to write different types of magic uses, or rather how I personally write various types of magic users within the context of my Quaraun books. Today that page is one of my top ten most visited articles. It gets 50 to 500 views/reads/hits/visits per day depending on the time of the years and has had over 200k visits total since it was published.

Amphibious Aliens: Debunking The Atwater Family's Alien Abduction Hoax with more then 30MILLION reads since 2007 and The GoldenEagle: Debunking Stephen King's World's Most Haunted Car Hoax with over tenMILLION reads since 2007 still rank as the two most visited articles on my website, but, neither of those are writing related.

Writing Medieval Servants is my most visited writing related article with over 7MILLION reads.

The most requested, but apparently not so easy to find writing article is EelKat's Park Bench Method To Writing (you have to scroll half way down the page to find it. It's after the list of writing prompts). The name of the page is NOT "EelKat's Park Bench Method of Writing" which is why you guys have so much trouble finding it, LOL!)

This website was started in 1996 and has 1 to 3 new articles (all written by me, I am the only writer on this site) published almost daily. In 2017 we crossed ten thousand articles published. As of 2023, EACH article gets MINIMUM 10 to 70 reads PER DAY, with the high traffic articles getting 500+ reads per day.

And since December 2019, my website now gets three hundred thousand to 7 million reads per month - well over ONE HUNDRED MILLION PAGE READS PER YEAR, making it not only the single most trafficked site in the State of Maine, but also one of the most visited websites in ALL OF NEW ENGLAND!

{{{HUGS}}} Thank you to all my readers for making this possible!

 TRIGGERED! I'm a Straight Cis Woman, but I am deemed Too Gay For Old Orchard Beach, Are you too gay for the bigoted, minority harassing, white power, gay hating psychos of The Old Orchard Beach Town Hall Too? 

Quaraun The Insane:
Volume 3 
(usually - I keep renumbering these)
Chapter 1
King Gwallmaiic &
The Sacred Pink JellyFish

Chapter 1
King Gwallmaiic & The Sacred Pink JellyFish

By EelKat Wendy C Allen

Author, Artist, Art Car Designer, Voodoo Priestess, and Hoodoo Rootworker

Author of Cozy & Gothic Fantasy, Sweet/Fluffy M/M Furry Romance, Cosmic Horror, Space Opera, & Literary SoL genres. I write Elves, Fae, Unicorns, & Demons.

| Amazon AC1 | Amazon AC2 | FB Profile | FB Page | FB Short Story Writers Group | GumRoad | Instagram | | LinkedIn | Myspace | Pinterest | Reddit 1 | Reddit 2 | Spoonflower | Steam | TikTok | Tumblr | Twitch | Twitter | YouTube | Zazzle | Google+ |

Chapter 1
King Gwallmaiic & The Sacred Pink JellyFish

Chapter 1
King Gwallmaiic & The Sacred Pink JellyFish


Seven decades ago, the royal family of the Moon Elves was attacked by Thullids, with the King, his sister-in-law, and her infant son all becoming infested by a parasite that burrows into the brain, slowly eating it, and eventually taking control of the Elf's body. When the king's brother murders discovers his wife and son are dead bodies animated by the Jellyfish living in their brains, he murders his wife then turns on his son. The king rescues the infant and sends him away to live with a sacred order of wizard-priests known as the Di'Jinn.

Meanwhile terror is spreading across the globe as the Necromancer King Gwallmaiic and his army of Phookas, Dark Elves, and Liches, march across the world slaughtering every Elf in their path, only to suddenly vanish into the deserts of the Di'Jinn and not be seen for nearly a century.

Now 70 years have passed and the young prince of the Moon Elves is grown up and has returned to the village, wearing the neon pink robes of a Thullid priest. While the Moon Elves are up in arms over the many laws their prodigal crown prince is breaking, a mysterious gingerbread house falls out of the sky and with it a half-Elf named BoomFuzzy who literally has all but one Moon Elf eating out of his hands.

When the prince tells the others, it's not a gingerbread house, but a monstrous flesh-eating castle made of bones, they lock him in a tower calling him insane.

Blinded by their addiction to gingerbread made out of poppies and mushrooms, the Moon Elves sit idly by as the Elf Eater's army surrounds their village, and when they turn on the only person who can save them from the Necromancers trap, crown prince Quaraun, turns his back on his people and joins forced with The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, becoming the Necromancer's apprentice in a plot to kill every last Moon Elf who ever hurt him. 


Three Hundred and thirty years before Quaraun met Unicorn.

Quaraun was only recently returned to the Valley of the Moon Elves in the deepest regions of the Deep North. In his years spent with the Di'Jinn, he had grown accustomed to the warm desert and now back home for the first time since childhood, he had forgotten how cold his snow filled homelands were. He had also forgotten how stuck up and snobby his people were and how much they hated any, even minor, break from consistency.

While the Moon Elves could tell one from another, no one else could tell the Moon Elves apart. They took their need for consistency to alarming levels. Every Elf wore nearly identical tunics of silvery, icy blue with white embroidery. Every she-Elf word dresses of silver-blue colours. Every Elf had shoulder length hair of identical cut, and every she-Elf kept their long locks piled high on their heads. No one ever thought to not dress exactly like everyone else. No one ever thought to not look like everyone else. It simply wasn't done. In their minds, they had reached perfection. To deviate from perfection was to be inferior. Inferiority was simply not tolerated.

The Moon Elves of the Deep North were nearly cult-like in their adhesion in doing everything just exactly as every other Moon Elf in the village, and they were more then willing to kill any Moon Elf that dared stray from their carbon copy existence.

One thing Quaraun had forgotten, was how utterly insane his people were. When you live so many decades away from someone, you tend to forget the bad things and reminisces for the good. Quaraun couldn't remember any good, but he knew there must have been some. Everyone had good in them, Quaraun often said. 

Common Elves and Lower Elves in all their many dozens of races, were friendly and tolerant of of races and other species. This could not be said of the High Elves, not any more at least. In centuries past when Elves were common across the land, no Elf lived in fear, but the Elves were a dying species now and with so many bigger, stronger beings taking over the planet, the Elves had become fearful of their own survival. Once hundreds of races of Elves had walked the earth, but most were now extinct or fast in danger of becoming so. In an attempt to preserve the last few serving races of Elves, the Elves had begun to live in very isolated communities, shutting out outsiders, even shutting out other races of Elves.

Only a few thousand Elves now remained. In most cases, each race of Elf was down to only a few dozen left. Their numbers were fast dwindling as Humans spread like a plague across the earth. With a group about 500 members strong, the Moon Elves had one of the last, large Elf communities left, which farther supported their belief that they were superior to all other Elves. While the other races of Elves were dying out, the Moon Elves were surviving, a fact that inflated their already puffed up egos.

The Moon Elves lived in an arctic region only a few mile south of Santa's Village, which wasn't exactly in the North Pole, but it was far enough North that everyone said it was.

On top of the world and isolated with nothing but ice capped mountains, glaciers, and icebergs for neighbours, and only each other to tell themselves how great they were, the Moon Elves had long ago sunk into a genetic insanity caused by centuries of incest, that resulted in horrific blood lusts and violence, with the Moon Elves often turning to cannibalism out of nothing more then boredom. Whitest of the albino white High Elves, the Moon Elves based their superiority over others, by the near colourlessness of their skin.

The Moon Elves were whiter then the snow they lived in, and that made them better then any one, or so they said, because they were able to blend in with their snowy surroundings and nothing could find them to kill them. If your hair, skin, or eyes could be seen against a backdrop of snow, you were inferior and worthy of the death that came for you. When they started killing off the other races of Elves, they started with the darkest skinned races first.

The Moon Elves had been driven to the Deep North nearly a thousand years ago, in the great war between the High Elves and the Common Elves. Crowning themselves Kings over all life, the Moon Elves had taken to slaughtering all the other races of Elves in a fanatical cleanings of the bloodline. The war had battled on for decades, ending with the few remaining unannihilated races of High Elves, banding together with Common Elves, Dark Elves, and Blood Elves, in an attempt to drive back the psychotically deranged Moon Elves.

The problem with fighting the Moon Elves, was they didn't care if they died for their cause, nor did they care who they had to kill to prove they were right. They were zealous fanatics ready to die for their cause, and they were lead by a Necromancer King who was resurrected the dead of their fallen enemies to do battle for them.

The war would still have been raging on, had it not been for a blinding white light that flashed through the sky, followed by a huge silver ball, the size of a small planet crashing into the Atlantic Ocean and flooding most of the planet. Entire nations were wiped out. Many species simply vanished, drowned in the great flood. Dragons and Unicorns, once plentiful beasts, were now rarely seen. Nearly every magical race was brought to the brink of extinction, allowing Humans to take over the planet.

The Moon Elves retreated to the Deep North, while the few races to survive the flood banded together in a desperate attempt to rebuild their crippled world.

After many months of watery terror, the flood waters went down, and while nations tried to rebuild, a new enemy arose from the depths of the ocean. Sightings of strange tentacle beasts began to be reported by sailors. Stories of monsters pulling ships below the waves, and later resurfacing, the crew dead, their undead bodies animated, the heads of the dead men replaced by squids. The alien squid headed beasts soon left the ocean in search of more bodies into which to implant their young.

Soon the world forgot about the terror of the Moon Elves, as a new terror walked among them:

the Thullids.

The Sacred Pink JellyFish

Little was known of the Thullids, and where they came from was unclear. All that was really known was that these were the last survivors of a planet whose sun had blown up and burned it's solar system. Their goals however were very clear: capture all life and take control of the planet. Captives were divided into three groups: food, slaves, and host bodies for implanting young.

While the squid-headed Thullids were the ones most people saw, there were also bird headed and octopus headed Thullids, likewise easy to detect by their outer appearance, but what few people knew was there were others that never hatched out of their host's head, and walked among the world, undetected: the Jellies.

The most well known of the Thullids, were the Di'Jinn, a cult-like group of wizard priests whose one goal in life was to worship and protect a tiny pink Jellyfish, whom they called The Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets. The Di'Jinn stood out among other Thullids by the bright pink robes they wore, all heavily embroidered with jellyfish like abstract patterns, an outward sign of their loyalty to the insane and immortal pink Jellyfish they worshiped. 

In the Temple of the Di'Jinn, sat one Thullid, ZooLock the Great, who had served the Grand High Emperor for millennia. It was his job, to carry with him every where he went, a small round glass bowl of water, in which lived a tiny pink Jellyfish, that was the ruler of all the Thullids. Dozens of Di'Jinn priests, trained as fierce warriors, guarded ZooLock, who guarded their precious pink Jellyfish.

For centuries, ZooLock stood at his post, until one day, rumour arose of an army of Liches from the North, and fear stuck the old Thullid's heart. As powerful as the Thullid were, they were no match for Liches, especially not Liches built by the evil Phookan Necromancer Gwallmaiic, King of the Faeries.

Everyone knew Gwallmaiic, The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, a power hungry shape shifting Phooka, who for nearly a thousand years, had been slaughtering Elves and Faeries and had recently begun targeting Thullid villages. Rumours were circulating that Gwallmaiic was looking for the Thullid's infamous Jellyfish king, and with the Elf Eater's army seen marching across the desert of the Di'Jinn, ZooLock gathered up the Grand High Empire and fled.

Terror seized every Thullid on the planet when news of the kidnapped jellyfish went out across the land, and try as they might, no one could find the squid-headed priest or his tiny pink ward.

A new war broke out, this time between the Thullids and the Faeries, but in the end, the king was gone and for centuries there was no word of what had happened to ZooLock or the sacred pink Jellyfish. Fearing The Grand High Emperor was dead, as the Thullids fell into mourning. 

Outside the Temple of the Di'Jinn a heard of wild ponies gathered. No one could explain where they had come from. They simply appeared one night. Thousands of little, miniature, shaggy black horses, no larger then goats. The roamed the desert of the DiJinn, in places no horse could survive, feeding on what, no one knew. At the head of the herd marched a the smallest pony of all. A strange looking pony with wild matted braids in it's mane and tail and a gleaming silver horn shining upon it's head. Where the DiJinn went, the tiny unicorn and it's mysterious ghost-like herd of Sheltand ponies followed.

One day, rumours began to circulate that the unthinkable had been done, and the Grand High Emperor himself had been implanted into the body of a host. Soon Thullid raiding parties were searching villages for Thullid Spawnlings in a desperate search to find their missing king. And every where the Thullid went, a small black unicorn followed, watching, waiting for the day when the Di'Jinn would return to their temple with their beloved sacred pink Jellyfish in tow.

While ZooLock himself was never found, the Di'Jinn stopped searching when they received a desperate plea for help from the Moon Elves of all people. Among other things, the Di'Jinn were known as great healers, and the Moon Elves had in their midst a mad child they knew not what to do with. A child that had 6 years prior, been attacked by Thullids and was suspected of now being a Spawnling.

The Moon Elves were used to insanity in their kin. It was natural to them. What wasn't natural was the small Elfling named Quaraun, only 9 years old, who one day walked out into the village and said to the other Elfings: 

“I wish you would drop dead.” 

Immediately they obediently obeyed, and every Elfling in the village dropped dead.

Where the child not the crown prince and only male heir of the royal family, the Moon Elf villagers would have stoned the strange child to death. In fact, they tried too, and his uncle the king, immediately locked the child in the tower of the Moon Elf castle then sent a message to the Di'Jinn. No one in the village understood this, for it was unlike their king to contact any outsider. He wouldn't associate with lesser races of Elves, let alone a demonic beast like a Thullid, and yet, here they were. The Thullid's infamous Di'Jinn priests, standing in their village, with the Moon Elf king, handing the only male heir over to them. It shocked everyone, and when the Di'Jinn returned to their temple, with Quaraun in tow, they called off their search for their missing pink Jellyfish, and focused all their attention on the Moon Elf instead. All around the Di'Jinn temple the armies little black ponies, watching and waiting.

Every day for seven decades, the little Moon Elf left the temple to watch the wild ponies playing in the river. All the ponies ponies kept their distance, save one: the one with the gleaming silver horn.

Then one day, when Quaraun arrived at the river, he found the Di'Jinn waiting...

The ponies fled in terror but few escaped the wrath of the Di'Jinn and the black unicorn watched in terror as the Thullids slaughtered his army.

The young Elf stood over the dead ponies in tears.

With the herd of ponies dead the Thullids turned upon the unicorn, but didn't live long enough to kill him. 

“You'll not kill my Unicorn!” 

Was the last words the Thullids heard.

The unicorn watched as every last Di'Jinn withered away and died in horrific agony, under the wrath of their beloved pink Jellyfish.

King Gwallmaiic:
Elf Eater of Pepper Valley,
Leader of The Lich Lords


All life in the desert was gone, save a small Elf wearing pink Thullid silks and a black Unicorn. The dazed and confused Elf turned around and walked out of the desert, and walked clear across the planet, making his way back home to the Moon Elf village of the Deep North, while the Phooka gathered up what little remained of his army and trailed along behind.

Years passed as the pink robed wizard priest, walked across the planet and everywhere Quaraun went, rumours gathered, of the Moon Elf Necromancer in Thullid clothes, and the bodies he left behind in every village he visited. In the years it took for him to walk back home, he had gained a reputation for being the single most feared being to ever exist: more feared then the Thullids, more feared then the Elf Eater himself.


Quaraun in his many decades living with the Di'Jinn had taken to dressing like them, and now wore very elaborately bejewelled dresses in brilliant shades of pink. He stood out starkly against the silvery, blueish white snow covered landscape. His hair, likewise strayed from convention, having having never cut it in several decades, Quaraun's silvery white hair, now reached to his knees.

Quaraun had only been a small child when the Moon Elves had sent him to live with the Thullid wizards. The squid headed aliens mages ate Elves and it was expected that they would eat Quaraun and the Moon Elves would be done with their troublesome little Elf. No one, save the king, had expected the Thullids to take the Elf in and treat him as one of their own, much less that they would train him in their dark magic arts and induct him into their elite wizarding society The Order of the Di'Jinn.

Upon realizing that Quaraun would never be eaten by the Thullids and that he was fast gaining a reputation as the most powerful wizard of all time, the Moon Elves decided it was time to bring him back into their society and undo the damage of his having taken up wizardry. The Moon Elves shied away from magic arts, seeing them as a great evil. They saw Quaraun's fast rising fame as a black eye against their culture, for the world saw Quaraun as a representation of his people and his people saw him as a freak and a corruption of everything they held dear and sacred. They determined they could not allow him to go on this way and must turn him back into a good and proper Moon Elf before it was too late and he became too set in his ways. They had requested his return several times and were surprised when one day he actually showed up, unannounced.

Quaraun was on his way home to the Valley of the Moon Elves in the far Deep North, after having lived so many decades with the Di'Jinn. Quaraun had speech disorders, was plagued with phobias, and was shorter, smaller, and thinner then every other Moon Elf. Seen by the others as a retarded, weak, runt in frail health, he had spent his early childhood being bullied and teased horrendously by the other Moon Elves. It was why he had killed them. Quaraun for what ever reason, had no memory of having killed anyone, not the Moon Elf children who'd bullied him, nor the Di'Jinn who'd raised him. He had also had time to forget what the villagers were like, how they had treated him, and they in turn, where not expecting to see a the crown prince return as a transvestite dressed in shimmering pink gowns, making him in their eyes, far more freakish then when he had left.

The Moon Elves had other reasons for requesting Quaraun's return. Reasons which they had chosen not to tell him about, for fear he'd remember how they'd treated him and not help them.

A thousand years ago or more, no one really knew the date, there had risen up a king. An evil, murderous, bloodthirsty, monster, who set out to killing every king across the globe. One by one the monstrous beast had slaughtered every King of the Realm of Fae, declaring himself King of all the Faeries. The creature was a bitter, angry Phooka. An evil trickster Faerie who thought there was nothing more delightsome then to watch his victims die horrible death at the expense of his often bloody, practical jokes.

King Gwallmaiic hailed from Fire Mountain of Pepper Valley, and he had an insatiable lust for eating Elves, and thus he became known as The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. But after a thousand years of terror, the evil King vanished without a trace. Only to rise up again a few hundred years later as a Lich, unlike any Lich the world had ever known. He was not dead. No one could explain it. He was not fully a Lich and yet he had very Lich-like traits and powers. The horrors King Gwallmaiic had rained on Elven villages in his lifetime was nothing compared to the nightmares his reign of strange-near-undeath had brought. Millions of Elves fell in his wake and rumours said that he ate the flesh of every one of them.

The Elves of the Deep North had long thought themselves safe from this monstrous terror, but as the Elven villagers of the South became extinct, the Phookan King and his army of undead minions moved farther north. And now the aristocratic High Elves of the Deep North shuddered in terror as the undead Phookan army marched ever closer to their snow capped mountains.

As much as the Moon Elves hated their frail, transvestite prince, in his 70 year absence he had gained a reputation as the most powerful and most deadly wizard since the Elf Eater himself. Rumours said Quaraun was one of the few beings to ever meet a Lich face to face and live to tell the tale. Quaraun supposedly had a skill for getting close to Liches and killing them. Permanently, a difficult feat, as Liches were eternal beasts who could regenerate indefinably. It was the hope of the Moon Elves, that by having Quaraun back in their village, he would kill the Elf Eater f Pepper Valley and save all Elves everywhere or at least, save the only important ones: The Moon Elves.


Quaraun's life was nowhere near perfect. After having run most of the past several months, he was glad to be back home. The problem was that he couldn't remember who he was running from or why. He had no memory of the events of his last few weeks with the Di'Jinn and he didn't know why. Something horrible had happened, his mind kept telling him. But he couldn't remember what. He was running from something, that much he knew. He also knew someone was following him. Who and why, he did not know.

Quaraun was still a few days out from the village. His stomach rumbled, reminding him how hungry he was, as he looked up and focused on the main road, trying to determine which way was North. The road was vacant of houses. No buildings of any kind. All he could see for miles were snow covered fields and dense snow laden pine forests. It had been a while since he had last seen a house and several days since the last village. In places the snow was seven feet deep, it was difficult travelling. In his years living in the desert he had forgotten how cold and wet snow was. His wet silks stuck to his skin making it difficult to walk. And the further north he went, the deeper the snows got. 

The sun had started to sink below the treeline and Quaraun knew he had to find somewhere to bed down soon, and try to find something to eat. It would be too cold to travel once the sun had set. The frigid cold of the dead icy filled nights could kill any creature caught outside after dark.

As Quaraun pondered where to set up camp for the night, a herd of horses, with Phookan and Dark Elf riders galloped past him. His long silver hair whipped around his face and shoulders along with the ice crystals and chunks of snow that was kicked up from the speeding hooves. 

Quaraun watched the evil army of the Elf Eater as they passed. They were not long gone before he heard them stop, on come riding back. 

The army was lead creature unlike anything Quaraun had ever seen before, simultaneously hideous yet exotically beautiful at the same time. The beast was monstrous, every inch of it covered in long shaggy matted black fur. On it's hands were huge claws, sharp enough to lop off a man's head in a single swipe. It's teeth were fearsome, protruding like razors out of it's mouth, and long gazelle-like horns on it's head. The creature rode on a black stallion, with a gleaming silver horn growing from it's head, but as the creature approached, the horse and the beast both melted away, leaving behind only a small dark skinned man, now somewhat Human looking, and barely five feet tall. The shape shifter had a wild grin on his face and a devilish gleam in his sparkling black eyes.

“Ya be Quaraun, evil wee little Moon Elf, murderer of the Di'Jinn.” 

“I have killed no one.”

“Ah. Aye. Ya secret be safe un sound with me. I shall tell not no one person, nay what it be this t'ing ya has done.”

“What do you want?”

“To touch ya. Feel ya. Sink me cock deep inside of ya. Yis a lovely little Elf. Ya be so innocent, yet so evil. Ya yin un yan meld together so fabulously.”

“My what?”

"Yin un yan?"

"I don't understand you, and I don't think I want to."

“Yin un yan. Magic ya knows not of, but ya has. I can feels it. Ya be destined for great things, wee little Jelly Elf.”

The Phooka reached out and touched Quaraun's face.

“Kill him and be done with it,” said a Dark Elf who now road up beside them.

“Back off Gibedon. Never interfere with me work,” the Phooka growled. "Bother me again un I shall eet yas next."

“Gibedon?” Quaraun asked. “The Necromancer?”

“Aye, me apprentice, but the job be open for another iffy ya be wantisng it.”

“You're King Gwallmaiic.”

“Aye. I is.”

“Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Murderer of millions.”

“Ya knows who I be yet ya be no afeared of me. I likes that. I likes that a lot. Strange Elf ya is. Yis scared of so mony t'ings, yet ya does na run from me. Why is that, eh?”

“Why would I be scared of you? You're nothing but a Faerie.”

"No t'ing but a Faerie. Aye. King the Fae I is. Most feared creature on this planet, un ya has no fear of me. Why ya no fear me?"

Quaraun knew that he was facing the infamous black hearted King of the Faeries, himself, and were Quaraun any other Elf, he would have been trembling in fear, but Quaraun had a bad habit of being scared of things he had no reason to fear, and not fearing the things he should.

"You're a Faerie. Faeries are useless gutter trash. Scum of the Earth. Almost as bad as Demons. No one who knows anything about Faeries has any reason to fear them. They resort to illusions, pranks, and trickery. They can't hurt you if you don't eat their food."

"True. But then ya can ne'er be sure ya has no eaten Fae food."

The little Phooka walked slowly around the Elf as he spoke. As short as Quaraun was, the Phookan king was several inches shorter, barely coming up to the Elf's shoulders.

“I can rarely get this close to ya.”

“Implying you've been close to me before?”

“Mony times,” the Phooka breathed as he moved close to the Elf, stepping up on his toes and kissed Quaraun's ear. “Und so lovely ya be. This be closest I has ever been to ya. I has wanted to touch ya for so mony years. Ya has ne'er let me get this close before.”

“I've never seen you before.”

“Oh ya have. Ya just do'na knows it. I be shape shifter. I be anything. Anyone. I be mony. I try for years to get close to ya, but ya be skittish un run away, every time.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“If I were gonna kills ya, I would already has done it. I wants to fuck ya not kill ya. I is ever devoted follower. Pretty Pink JellFish, loveliest of all creatures. She went missing. To where no one knows. Rumour has it, she got implanted inside a Moon Elf. Pretty female goddess. Ruler of the galaxy. Imprisoned by the DiJinn. Escaped. Captured again. Now imprisoned inside the body of an Elf. I has done followed her for centuries. She went missing decades ago. I has mourned her loss ever since. Now I has found her again. She lives inside of yas. I worship the ground ya walks on. I always have. I always will. Before ya hads a body I could no touch. Now ya has a lovely body waiting to be fucked.”

"You think I'm the Sacred Pink JellyFish?"


"You're insane."

"Aye. But I loves ya still the same. Pretty little Quaraun. Yis insane yarself. Quaraun the Insane. Is that not what they calls ya?""

Quaraun did not know why, but he felt no threat from the creature and so made no move to get away, as the little Faerie pressed it's warm body close against him. Though Quaraun was a very short Elf, the Faerie was even shorter than he was and stood on the Elf's feet, then rose up on his toes to be eye level with the Elf. The Phooka was pushing his hard erection between the Elf's legs and it was arousing Quaraun, much more then he wanted to admit. Gingerly, Quaraun put his hands on the Phooka's chest and pushed him back a few inches.

“How do you know me?”

“I has hunted ya for years. Could ne'er catch ya. Then one dae I were wounded un ya saved me life.”

“I do not remember that.”

“And also I will never forget it. Nor will I fail to remember how ya saved, rescued, un protected what were left remaining o me army. I has worshiped thee faithfully for centuries un ya saved me when I could nay be saved."

"You think I'm a god?"

"Aye. Though me army does not."

Lich Art Images Provided By Amazon

“Your army?” Quaraun looked around at the motley crew of various Dark Fae, Dark Elves, Blood Elves, and undead creatures, which were gathering to watch what their leader would do to the young Moon Elf. “I have never seen your army before.”

“Ya did. In the desert of the Di'Jinn. Ya saw us. Ya fed us. And the Di'Jinn unleashed their terror upon us, ya unleashed ya terror upon them. We be indebted to ya. We'd all be dead now, were not for ya.”

“I don't know what your talking about.”

“Ya's an Elf after me own 'eart. Some dae ya will remember what ya did for the wee little ponies un when ya does, I shall be waiting for ya. Come Gibedon, we leave.”

The mesmerizingly beautiful black haired, black eyed Phookan leader turned and whistled at Quaraun, then grasped his privates in a lewd gesture.

"Ya're a pretty one," the Scottish hell beast said to Quaraun. "I woulds love to fuck ya wee lil bahookie."

Quaraun swore at him in Thullid, with a disgusted grimace, which made the Phookan leader laugh. He blew Quaraun a kiss as they road away, and Quaraun hoped he'd never see them again. Quaraun hated Faeries. No good ever came from associating with Faeries. Especially not Phookas. Worst Faeries of all.

Quaraun veered off the main road, into the forest to try to find a spot to set up his tent for the night. Quaraun wondered at seeing Phookas this far North. Phookas were southern beasts, normally inhabiting tropical cloud forests, jungles, and rain forests. Warm tropics were their home lands, jungles of the South Pacific, not these frigid high altitude arctic mountain ranges. Asian Demons, that had migrated to Scotland and made it their home. To find them here, just outside of Ivujivik, Quebec, worried Quaraun.


That night, Quaraun woke to find himself being dragged from his bedroll. Loud cheers and taunts enveloped him as his clothes were ripped from his body. He fought his attackers but they stripped him naked as they held him face down shoving his face into the snow. Someone forced his legs open and someone else knelt between his thighs. A rough, heavy hand was placed in the small of his back. A surge of wild untamed fear came over him and he fought harder with his assaulters. 

The Elf's scream hung in the air when he was penetrated hard, by who he didn't know. His body went rigid and trembled with the pain and humiliation of his predicament. His rapist made no attempt to go easy on him. There were too many of the king's men holding him down while the king raped him. His asshole was opening up and Quaraun learned to take the Phooka's entire cock until Quaraun could feel the Faerie king's thick balls slapping against his butt cheeks.

After a few minutes of agonizing pain his body started getting used to this new sensation it started to feel good. Really good. And that scared him even more. He didn't want to enjoy what was happening to him. The feeling of pain started to subside and Quaraun focused on how good cock started to feel while it was deep in his ass. After a few moments Quaraun stopped struggling. Having anal sex with a complete stranger wasn't like him at all, in fact, Quaraun had never had sex with anyone at all, male or female, but he simply could not ignore how much he was enjoying this.  

Quaraun tried not to think about the fact that the creature assaulting him was known for raping Elves, moments before killing them and eating their flesh but the thought could not escape him as fear built up in the pit of his stomach. Quaraun knew better then to give in to this, he knew he should fight, he knew he would soon be slaughtered by this gang of violent criminals, but it felt too good to try to stop them. His mind's objection to this horribly risky scenario was being overruled by his body's craving for more cock up his ass. He held his ass high in the air letting the Phooka fuck him. 

Seeing that the Elf had stopped putting up a fight, the Faerie king pushed his men aside, and now no one was holding the Elf down as the Phooka continued to ride him. Quaraun was a total anal slut and the Phooka loved it. Both men cried out in pleasure as they enjoyed the sensations of one another's bodies. Quaraun gripped his hands to the ground and pushed back hard as Gwallmaiic fucked him. Quaraun gritted his teeth and moaned. He had never experienced anything like this before. He hadn't known he could. He knew he didn't like sex with females, but the thought that he could enjoy sex with another male had never crossed his mind. Quaraun could feel his own large balls slapping up against his body as Gwallmaiic drilled himself deeper and harder into his bowels.

With another hard, deep thrust, the Phooka above him came down on all fours. He could feel the creature's warm seed flowing inside him.  As another load of the Phooka's sperm filled his bowels, Quaraun found himself shaking. Quaraun was so close to cumming. His asshole was wrecked from the harsh treatment and leaking cum and his orgasm that was building was turning into a painful blueballs. Quaraun needed to cum so badly, but what the Phooka did next, suddenly brought Quaraun back to his senses as he remembered who was doing this to him and the great danger he was in of being murdered the moment the Phooka finished fucking him.

"Ya likes that pretty t'ing." The Elf Eater whispered in Quaraun's ear, then took hold of the Elf's pointed ear with his teeth, tearing his earrings out and drawing blood. 

Blood gushed from the wound, running down his neck and staining the snow red. The Phooka licked the blood off his neck, then began sucking more blood from the wound.

"Mmm... ya tastes sooo good, pretty Sugar Pie," the Phooka laughed.

Quaraun was shivering.

“Is ya cold or frightened?” 

The Phooka pulled the Elf's cloths back on his trembling body.

This action confused Quaraun, and he became even more confused, when the Phooka once again bit him, this time on the neck, again drawing blood. Terrified that the Elf Eater was about to eat him, Quaraun snapped out of the lustful spell he'd been under and once again began to struggle against his attackers.

“Please let me go,” he cried out 

Quaraun struggled to get up, but the Phooka had a hugging grip on him and pushed him down to the ground..

“Ya wants this.”

"No!" Quaraun answered with a desperate scream.

"Ya knows ya do," the Phooka answered. 

"No! Stop!" Quaraun begged. “Please.”

“I is no gonna hurt ya, Quaraun. I knows that what ya tinking. Ya did'na start to fight me until I drew blood.”

Lich Art Images Provided By Amazon

“Let me go,” the frightened Moon Elf wailed. “Please let me go.”

“Shhhhh! Tis alright. Lay back down un I will fuck ya again.”

“No! No please! Please let me go. Please.”

The Phooka kissed Quaraun's face.

“Do no be so frightened. I likes ya. I does no seek to harm ya. I wants ya to join me un me army. Ya has great potential. I can feel it. Ya be already a great wizard, but ya lack training. I can help ya with that. And ya can be me lover un share me bed. Ya'll like that, I can tell by how ya was acting just now whilst I was in ya. Ya a right a little slut ya are.”

Seeing that the Elf was struggling against their king, the men once again took hold of Quaraun. Loud voices yelled obscenities over him, and harsh hands griped at his wrists and legs. With sudden strength, Quaraun pushed the Phooka off him. Someone let go of a leg, which he used to kick as hard as he could, dislodging the second person that held his other leg. He jerked his arm free, tuned and belted the person holding his wrist. Then Quaraun scrambled to his feet and ran.

"You fucking son of a bitch faced whore! He broke my frigging nose!" Quaraun heard behind him scream, but he didn't slow down or give it a second thought.

"Let him go," Quaraun heard the Phookan leader say. "I do no want him hurt. I found out what I wanted to knows. I gots other plans for him.”


Quaraun made it back to his village without further incident, but when he arrived, his father was less then happy to see his son dressed in a dress and looking like a daughter instead of a son and immediately began arguing with him, and thus Quaraun never got a chance to mention his encounter with the Phookas or inform the village that the Elf Eater's army was travelling only two days outside from the village.

Quaraun had forgotten how much contempt his father and the villagers had for him and quickly regretted coming back. Quaraun had intended to tell them that the Elf Eater's army was only hours outside the village, but Quaraun was a scattered brained Elf and forgot things easily when distracted or nervous. And he was more scared of his father then he had been the beast that had raped him.

Outside the village, a pair of dark eyes watched as the others scolded, yelled at, and mercilessly teased to poor little Elf. Quaraun fled from the Moon Elves and ran crying to his old room at the top of the tower, locking himself in for several days.

"Poor Little Elf, so innocent, so pure, so easily corruptible," the Phookan king said to himself. Gwallmaiic then turned to his followers. "I will'na be needing ya for a while. Go south, raid the other Elven villages, but do'na touch these Moon Elves, not yet, not till I say so."

"What is your plan, sire," asked the Dark Elf who stayed close to the king.

“I want him in me army.”

“The pink sissy?”


“That Elf's no fighter.”

"That there, not be an Elf.”

“He looks like an Elf.”

“I can looks like an Elf too.” Upon saying this the Phooka shifted and changed into the form of a Moon Elf. “Judge not what lifes inside, by what the outside looks like, Have ya learned nothing from me Gibedon?”

“If that is not an Elf, then what is it?”

“Look at the clothes.”

“I am, he looks ridiculous. No self respecting Elf would parade around dressed like that.”

“Exactly me point. That not an Elf.”

“Then what is he?”

“Ya seen creatures dress like that before.”

“Those squid headed monsters dress like that.”

“Mmmmm. And that does no strike ya as odd?” 

“The Moon Elves' crown prince is eccentric.”

“The crown prince is eccentric,” the Phooka mocked the Dark Elf. “Unlike him, ya has brain Gibedon. Why dontcha use it, before ya lose it the same way him gone un lost his?”

“You're not being clear, Sire.”

“Not being clear,” the Phooka muttered under his breath. “It good thing yar good in bed un good at fighting for me, or I'd've eaten ya by now. Ya so damned stupid.”

“Forgive my ignorance, Sire, but I am only an Elf.”

“Him has'na got any brains in him head un him smarter then ya bes. Where dids we just follow him from?”

“The forest.”

The Phooka punched the Elf in the head.

“We dids just followed him half way 'round friggin' world from Desert of Di'Jinn, ya dolt.”


“So? Him were living with Thullids. Ya ever seen a Thullid not kill an Elf?”

“Not unless it was a Spawnling waiting to hatch... aaah. I see. That's why he wears Thullid clothes. He's not an Elf.”

“Aye. That there be a Thullid Spawnling, masquerading as an Elf. There ain't no brain in him head. Was eet up long time ago by that pink Jellyfish that living in that hollowed out skull of his.”

“Thullids are dangerous. They can't be trusted.”

“They be moe chaotic evil than a Chaos Demon, aye. And this one be unstable, but there be rumours among the Thullid that the Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets has been implanted in a host body and walks among us. And with the way the Di'Jinn practically worshiped Quaraun, I id guessing their leader does be living in the head of that there Elf.”

“You need more then a hunch.”

“I got more then a hunch. I saw what he did to the Di'Jinn un I got a taste of his blood. That be a Thullid and there be a strong magic in this one. As a wizard, he be more powerful then Yis, Gibedon. I does no tinks he knows it. Him be raging volcano of destruction waiting to explode. And I want him on me side when he goes off."

~o0o~ The rest of this novel can be read here.

Volume 3: BoomFuzzy

Three Hundred years before Quaraun meet Unicorn in The Night of The Screaming Unicorn, he meet another Phooka, the same Phooka in another form, when an Elf eating candy-maker arrives in the Moon Elf Village and puts every one under a spell so that no one notices as villagers are one by one disappearing.

Young wizard Quaraun sees through the illusion, but instead of stopping it, helps the monster pick who to kill, and builds 13 phylacteries for the most infamous Lich making spell any wizard ever cast: the one that created the Thirteen Lich Lords, in the process falling in love with the leader of the Lich Lords, The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley himself.

Life is going good for the young wizard, until his best friend BeaLuna the Gnome alerts his father that there's more going on in the gingerbread house the making candy, and a mob of Moon Elves sets out to kill Quaraun in a public execution.

Enranged by the near murder of his lover, the illusions melt away revealing the Lich Lord and his innocent looking gingerbread house for the monsters they really are.

With the Twighlight Manor now threatening to eat every Elf in the village, the Moon Elves plot to destroy the suicidal Elf Eater and his sentient house, not realizing that worse things walked among then then Phooka's and Liches: a Thullid has taken up residence in the Pink Necromancer's head, remaining peacefully dormant until BoomFuzzy's death unleash's it's fury on them all.


Another of the stories banned by in 2012, this one contains three controversial scenes:

The torture scene when Quaraun receives his sex altering injury.

The graphically detailed suicide of BoomFuzzy 

The bloody murder of Quaraun's four children.

By far the bloodiest story of the series, this novel contains disturbing details of death, abuse, torture, suicide, and murder and is considered to be Gorn.

As you follow the series along, you find that Unicorn's obsession with Quaraun reaches a point where Quaraun gives up and simply allows himself to be sexually abused, daily, for years on end, by the Unicorn, because he's realized he can't get away from the extremely obsessive creature that follows him every where he goes.

One of the most disturbing scenes of the entire series is in volume 3, BoomFuzzy, when it is revealed, just how long the Unicorn's obsession has been going on. While most of the series takes place when Quaraun is an adult and is actually quite old, the novel, BoomFuzzy, is a flashback, that takes place when Quaraun was a child. 

As a young boy, about 9 years old, Quaraun finds an injured pony, badly abused, shackled in chains, and locked in a cage. Not realizing the little innocent looking Shetland Pony, is actually a Phooka (a type of evil Faerie Horse), he sets it free. Phookas a viscous black unicorns, fire breathing monsters who skewer people on their horns, and take delight in crushing people to death under their hooves. There is no such thing as a good Phooka, and they are killed on sight whenever they are found. That the boy let him go free, puzzled the demonic beast.

The boy went back to his life. The Phooka followed him. From that point on, Quaraun could not escape the black Unicorn that followed his every move.

When Quaraun was age of 15, the Black Unicorn took on a humanoid form, that of a candy maker named BoomFuzzy, and set up shop in Quaraun's village. Luring children to his gingerbread house, the beast set out to killing and eating every one who got near his candy shop... except for Quaraun.

Quaraun was small, sick, and liked wearing dresses, resulting in his being bullied by the other boys in the village. When one day the bullying got out of hand and Quaraun was nearly killed, the Unicorn swept in and slaughtered the bullies, saving Quaraun's life, then taking the injurged boy back to the gingerbread house.

From there the BoomFuzzy story took a darker turn, as the young boy now finds himself, both well care for by a loving protector, and sexually abused by an obsessed stalker. The duel nature of BoomFuzzy the Unicorn, both comforts and terrifies Quaraun, as he finds himself safe and protected, while simultaneously abused and kept under strict control.

The rest of the BoomFuzzy novel becomes a self battle, with Quaraun, both loving and hating the Unicorn that both protects and hurts him.

At it's core, BoomFuzzy is a novel that takes a dark look into the effects of child abuse, sex slavery, and the confusion caused by being a child who is both loved and victimized by a psychopathic adult.

Quaraun remains with BoomFuzzy for 30 years, with their relationship rocky, as Quaraun finds himself wanting freedom to choose to love someone of his own choosing, and at the same time his not wanting to hurt the beast that truly does love him, but is incapable of showing that love in none abusive ways.

After 30 years, Quaraun leaves. He finally escapes the monster that held him captive and sexually abused him for 30 years. A few weeks later Quaraun marries his first wife. And the next day, BoomFuzzy kills himself.

Quaraun finds the body of the dead Unicorn 3 days later and is devastated, realizing that had he not married, BoomFuzzy would not have commit suicide.

The theme of Stockholm Syndrome pushes front and center into the series from that point on, with Quaraun torn between the guilt of having caused BoomFuzzy's death, and the wife he can not look at because without her, BoomFuzzy would still be alive.

The wife, seeing that her husband cares more for his childhood captive than he had let on, takes to bullying Quaraun, belittling BoomFuzzy's memory at every turn. Quaraun grows to hate his wife. The more his wife, puts down BoomFuzzy's memory, the more defensive Quaraun becomes in protecting BoomFuzzy's honor and denying that BoomFuzzy had spent years sexually abusing him.

As the years go on, Quaraun starts to forget he was BoomFuzzy's victim, he forgets that BoomFuzzy was a child rapist, he forgets that he had spent those years wanting freedom from his captive. His memories become warped and he starts to think of BoomFuzzy as a past lover. On the anniversary of BoomFuzzy's death, Quaraun's wife writes a nursery-rhyme song, belittling BoomFuzzy, and teaches it too their 4 children. Unable to take the constant belittling from his wife anymore, in a fit of rage, Quaraun lashes out at her and murders both his wife and their 4 children. 

Horrified by what he's done, Quaraun flees into the mountains, not to be seen again for decades. When he does return to civilization, he's completly lost touch with reality, thus people begin to call him "Quaraun the Insane". When questioned as to why he killed his family, the only answer he gives anyone is: "I loved my children, but I loved BoomFuzzy more."

When the law tries to arrest him, he tries to escape and accidentally kills them too. Terrified, he flees again, now wanted for for multiple murders. Scared of his own temper, now afraid to be near anyone for fear he'll kill them, Quaraun becomes a wandering hermit, living on the run, never staying in any one place more then a day or two.

Several times his timing is bad and he arrives in towns, just as someone has been killed. Knowing he killed his family and the men who tried to arrest him, villagers are quick to blame him for any and every death, and soon reports calling him a serial killer are being spread across the entire country.

Chapter 1: King Gwallmaiic & The Sacred Pink JellyFish

The Gingerbread House From Hell (Part of Chapter 2)

Santa Claus: Lich Of The North Pole

The Hanging Tree

The Dying Elf, Gibedon's Head, and King Gwallmaiic's Elf Eating Mansion

BoomFuzzy's Death

An Elf Gone Mad: The Rise of The Pink Necromancer

"I loved my children, but I loved BoomFuzzy more..."

Responding To a Reader Response To
"The Hanging Tree" scene from BoomFuzzy...

If you are unfamiliar with "The Hanging Tree" it is the original short story from which the entire BoomFuzzy novel was based upon.

It is also one of the single most graphic, grizzly, bloody, gory scenes of the entire Quaraun series.

And it is the scene that got the series banned off

In the short story called "The Hanging Tree" what happens is this:

Quaraun comes from a culture that outlaws same sex couples and is hiding that fact that he has a male lover. When he is accused of bedding with other males, he does not deny it and openly admits to having sex with other men, not realizing that this will incit his accusers into an angry mob, that next strips him naked, drags him to the center of town and publically tortures him, with most of the village coming forward to join in. They next hang him upside down in a tree in the town square, and continue to torture him.

The infamous highly detail, incredibly grizzly scene that got the series banned off followed, as one Elf, pulled out a knife and forces it up into Quaraun's penis, then rippe the knife in a backward motion, slicing Quaraun's penis completely in half, leaving behind a scar known as "a sub penal incision". Following this Elf's example, other villagers slash Quaraun's belly, thighs, and groin with knives, leaving him horribly scarred for life. When they finished torturing him, Quaraun is left for dead, his bloody remains used as bait to capture The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Unknown to the Elves however is the fact that it was the Elf Eater himself who is Quaraun's lover, and upon discovering what the Elves did to Quaraun, the Elf Eater slaughtered the Moon Elves, then takes Quaraun and spends the next several months nursing the dying Elf back to health. Quaraun eventually recovered, but he is left with a crippled leg, severe PTSD, rampant phobias that cripple his ability to function in society, and the horrific scars that he often bemoans.

This entire story is just under 3,000 words long. And it shows a horrify look at bigotry, bullying, and herd mentality of a mob joining a bully and nearly killing a gay man.

This is one of the very early stories in the series, which happens when Quaraun is very young, still a teenager. This story is the foundation base point that the other stories reference back to and you see flashbacks of it, glimpse to it, and the horrific night terrors caused by it, in nearly every volume of the Quaraun series.

In dozens of stories written after this, readers see Quaraun's life as it goes into a downward spiral of depression and mental illness, as he turns first to drugs, then to drinking, then to cutting, and eventually to multiple suicide attempts.

Today, here is what one person had to say about this scene, and what follows is my response... Enjoy!

Personally, as a bisexual person, I'm tired of seeing queer people only portrayed as villains, the token friend or victims of hate crimes.

~January 30, 2018

please come to Maine and tell the 140+ LGBTQA+ citizens of Old Orchard Beach this. I'm sure they would love to hear that you think "the queers" are NOT victims of hate crimes.

Since 2001:

40+ of them (myself included) have had their houses blown up by bombs

80+ of them have had their houses run over by backhoes (I've had to build 5 houses on my land in the past 12 years)

500+ pets, cats, dogs, and horses have been beheaded, their nailed to the doors of their LGBTQA+ owners (this has happened to me personally 13 times)

my cousin, he'd love to hear your sentiments... unfortunately, he was one of the 4 gay men whom were beheaded by the Ku Klux Klan in 2013

I used to be able to walk, but, you know as I was putting groceries in my car in WalMart parking lot when 2 gay haters decided to beat me up with a shopping cart (July 2016) I was paralyzed, they ruptured 3 discs in my spine; I'm crippled the rest of my life

you could come visit me and I can introduce you to the 8 foot tall KKK cross in my yard

2010 Portland Shaws (supermarket): an 80 year old black gay man was beaten to death while putting groceries in his car, while more the 40 shoppers cheered the attacker... his head was hit so many times by the shopping cart that by the time the police arrived, there was nothing left of his head, skull, or brain but a pool of jellied goo on the ground

April 2015, someone decided to fill my motorhome, you know the one that says "Transgender Awareness Tour Bus" on the side of it... they filled it with several thousand gallons of raw sewage/feces

August 2015 - public beheading of a transgender woman took place in the ice cream department of a local grocery store: Saco Shaws

Rotary Park, Biddeford, right next door, until 2 summers ago had the Guiness World Record for a very tall flag pole; they took the flag pole down because, they got tired of every weekend cutting down the gay men who were stripped naked and hanging by their balls from the top of the flag pole

THIS by the way, is the very real life event that inspired The Hanging Tree scene.

The first time this event happened... the gay man, was a 15 year old boy who was only SUSPECTED of being gay, because he wore a pink suit to a dance at school. Old Orchard Beach High School. The boy was striped naked, his ankels tied to the back bumper of a Old Orchard Beach Police Car, and then dragged the entire 14 mile drive, to the flagpole at Rotary Park in Biddeford, Maine. Because it happened at night, at a dance, no one noticed him missing at first... Because it was February, the month of the year, when our temperature plummet to -40F. He nearly froze to death. And with the park closed for winter, there was no one around to find him. He hung there, upside down, tied to a flag pole, hanging from the rope by his balls, for FIVE days.

That's the type of "jokes" the Old Orchard Beach police - grown men in the 40s and 50s, play on 5 year old CHILDREN, if the suspect the child might possibly be gay.

At night the Ku Klux Klan stands in the driveway of LGBTQA+ residents and shoots rifles fire at them.

January 4, 2016: 140+ LGBTQA+ families were marched out of their homes AT GUN POINT by police, when The Old Orchard Beach Town Hall issued a court order declaring it illegal to own property/houses if you were LGBTQA+

January 4, 2016: 140+ LGBTQA+ families were marched out of their homes AT GUNPOINT by police, when The Old Orchard Beach Town Hall issued a court order declaring it illegal to own property/houses if you were LGBTQA+

It took us 9 months and taking the case to Superior Court, but on October 21, 2016 Superior Court overruled the town's original court order as grounds of being "a gross violation of civil rights being committed by the United States Government".... for 9 months 140+ LGBTQA+ families were homeless and living in their cars while the Too Gay For Old Orchard Beach court battle went on

November 9, 2017, 3 months ago - while eating at Biddeford, McDonald's, a the manager and 5 employees, spiked my gay brother's food with so much LSD. Molly, and Meth that he went into a coma seconds after taking a bite of his meal, he remained in a coma for 5 days and nearly died; the FBI agent in charge of the attempted murder of my brother knows who did it because the whole thing was recorded on one of the restaurant's security cameras

Personally, as a bisexual person, I'm tired of seeing queer people only portrayed as villains, the token friend or victims of hate crimes.

Glad to see you are comfortable using the hate slur queer on yourself; I suppose you must use it the same way black men use niggar on themselves right? Trying to reclaim that vile, hate filled word? Are you REALLY bi or are you just saying that to sound cool? You clearly have no issues tossing the word queer around which makes me question the validity of your claim to be a part of the LGBTQA+ community.

A REAL gay person knows queer is to gay what niggar is to black; wannabes let their TRUE colours fly when they use hate terms like queer to describe themselves. Nothing brands a straight person trying to fit in faster then how they use the word queer.

You are clueless to what REAL LGBTQA+ people live with everyday of our lives if you think the hate crimes against us are a trope and using the word queer is anything close to acceptable.

I dare you to come to Maine and tell any one you are bisexual... the Ku Klux Klan will be on you in less than 24 hours

Welcome to Maine

Most of the hate crimes against the gay characters of the Quaraun series are based off the real world hate crimes against gay men happening here in Old Orchard Beach on a DAILY basis.

If you are so fed up with LGBTQA+ people being victims of hate crimes, then why don't you prove it by getting off you ass, coming up here to Maine and doing something to stop the hate crimes going on right now?

Interview With EelKat
On Writing The Quaraun Series

Old Orchard Beach's Nudey Shirts, Drug Dealers, Gangs, and Ivory Billed Woodpeckers -
Interview With EelKat About
The Real Life Town That Inspired
The Monster Porn Yaoi Novel "BoomFuzzy"
April 2 2016 Part 1 of 6

This novel was originally written on: 2007 & 2009 & 2012

This page last updated on: December 23, 2017

The Space Dock 13 WebRing

Need Writing Prompts?

Looking For Cozy Fantasy Micro Fiction

Free To Read Online?

Need Help Defeating Overpowered Fantasy Wizards?

Looking For Wizards With Flamboyant Nipples?

d100 list of 100 Curious Items in Quaraun's Traveling Trunk

d100 list of 100 Magical Trinkets Sold In Quaraun's Silk Shop 

d100 list of 100 Dark Magic Artifacts and Their Curses

d100 list of 100 Legendary Spells Crafted by Quaraun

d100 list of 100 Unique Ice Cream Flavors You Might Find in Noodle Beach 

Dragging a Body Through The Snow


Talking While Falling Asleep

Wizards and More Wizards

and Even More Wizards

and Still More wizards


Elves and Very High, High Elves 


Unicorns and Phookas and Demons


The Dangers of World Travel

Where To Get Writing Ideas?


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


Idiots Who See Things I Never Wrote

but also

Don't Forget To Just Write 

because Yes, You Can!


The Park Bench Method of Writing

If you enjoyed this page, don't forget to share it on social media (share links above) or place a link to it on your own blog or website.

If you use a prompt from this page to write a story and then post that story online, please link back to this page, so that your readers can pick some writing prompts and write their own stories.

When you link to this page, it will ping me to let me know you did, and this will allow me to visit the stories you write using these prompts, which I frequently share on my own social media to help gain you readers for your work.

You might like these

What do you want to become? 
What did you do today to step closer to that goal?
Whatever you do, be your best at it!
And remember to have yourself a great and wonderfully glorious day!


By EelKat Wendy C Allen

Eye of the GrigoriIf you ever made fun of or had any part in the destruction of my farm, and the illegal selling of half of my land to Colliard, you shall lose your land.
tent2.JPGIf you ever made fun of or had any part in my being homeless since 2006 - YES, I AM still homeless in 2023, you shall become homeless.
eelkats_house_before_after.jpgIf you ever made fun of or had any part in the backhoe driving over my house, you shall lose your house.
home again the return of the goldeneagle dodge 330If you ever made fun of or had any part in my car being cut in half, you shall lose your car.
volvo-art-car-eelkat-Dazzling-Razzbury-3-artist-wendy-c-allen-painting3.pngIf you ever made fun of or had any part in my becoming crippled, you shall lose your health.
If you ever made fun of or had any part in the murder of my son, your child shall die an equally horrible death. If you haven't got a child to lose, it will be a brother or sister or parents or spouse or whomever you love the most, and that you should know it was this curse which you brought upon yourself that killed them, they will die on exactly the 7 year anniversary of the very first time, you mocked the death of my child.

Evil men go out of their way to try to drive a person to suicide.

Are you an evil man?

Are you sure you're not?

How many people have YOUR hate filled words killed?

Next time you go to do a mean thing to a fellow human, stop and really think about the consequences of your actions.

Did you ever notice how every one has a story to tell about me, yet not one of them ever speaks the truth?

What lies has YOUR gossiping tongue spread about me?

Did you know...

October 16, 2006, bomb blew up my house because of YOUR lies.

August 8, 2013, the house which replaced the one the bomb blew up, was driven over by a backhoe.

November 14, 2013, my 8 month old infant son was murdered because of your lies.

November 14, 2013, I was beaten up, paralized for 5 months, spent 18 weeks relearning to walk, I'm now crippled for the rest of my life, because of YOUR lies.

Are you proud of what you have done?

Enjoy your eternity in Hell. You earned it. You've certainly worked hard for it.


If you have any information about any of these events, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Update: November 12, 2023

Two days is the 10 year anniversary of the murder of my 8 month old son. The killer has not been found yet. Old Orchard Beach, Maine Police at 207-935-4911 and Portland Maine FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 are investigating the murder of my son so, if you have any information, please give it to them.

UPDATE to add answer to question:

No. I am legally blind. I have been since I was 4 years old. I can not see what she looks like. I go by sound of voice and body smell to identify people. For what someone looks like I have to go by what others tell me. Like I said, I've never seen the woman who attacks, as she clearly knows I am legally blind and stays over 4 feet away from me. 

A person has to be closer than four feet from me in order for me to even make out the blur outline of their body shape/height/weight. But in order for ne to see their face they must have their face closer the EIGHT INCHES.

It's why I CAN identify the Claire woman and the Kendra woman who murdered my son, if anyone ever finds them and gets them in a line-up, I would be able to pick them out, but why I can not identify this weird crazy woman who shows up at the Biddeford apartment and stand yelling on the front porch and killed my dog Mickey in June 2023, and tried to kill me by poisoning my pizza at Round 1, while running around the restaurant screaming the same way she does here.

I can identify her voice and her laugh and her smell, its a very "Minnie Mouse type" high pitch shrieking with a megaphone style booming cackle laugh. And she smells really strong of alcohol drinks but I don't know what type as I am a Mormon and I don't know them. She also has a weird "rotting cat pee mixed with burned cotton candy smell" to her, which I am told by police, sounds like I am trying to describe a mix of "crack and weed" which the police said is some type of drug, but again, I'm a Mormon so I do not know those things. According to witnesses she is very fat, According to both my mother and my father she is well over 300lbs. Around twenty different people said she has "Shirley Temple Sausage curls" hair, while nearly a dozen other people said she has red curly hair, and several more people described her with straight purple hair, while some described her as wearing a "pulp fiction uma thurman wig".

In total well over a hundred people have come forward citing that she shows up on their porch and starts yell at them, and always starts out with some kind of "I got to warn you about EelKat and her demons" rant. They always describe her as "fat", "morbidly obeses", some say "200lbs" others say "300lbs". Some say she is in her 30s others say she is in her 40s. None of them know who she is, they all say she is a total stranger to them and they also all say, they had no idea who I was either.

They come to my apartment, they said, to tell me what she is doing, each of them saying they found out where I was because she told them my address, and they came over to tell me that she was doxxing my family. These people are always citing that they live in the Cutt St/Main street/May St/South St area, all of them saying they live within 3 or 4 blocks of me and that she walks to their buildings, they never see a car. My Biddeford apartment is 409 Main Street and she has shown up here daily from November 21, 2021 (the same day Etiole was shot; he says by her) until May 17, 2022. After May 2022, she showed up every holiday and every weekend, but no longer every day. 

Today is the 12th of November 2023 and she has already been here 4 times this month. At the same time, people around the Portland Ave and Cascade area of Old Orchard, are also arriving saying the same things, but about a man. They cite a white haired man, very skinny, rather short, around 5'6", around 70, is going driveway to driveway, parking a big Power Wagon sized Dodge Ram pickup truck across their driveway, then getting out, waving a rifle over his head, and yell up at their house ALSO saying he is there to "warn you about EelKat and her aliens". 

The two are believed to be grandfather/granddaughter, and FBI suspects they are the husband and granddaughter of the mystery "Claire" woman who murdered my son. They believe, that the homeless man who was murdered November 19, 2021, DID in fact know who the "Claire" woman who murdered my son was, and they believe this white haired man and woman who screams from porches are the ones who killed the homeless man, seeing how, he showed up on the 7 year anniversary of my son's murder, asking for the FBI phone number, claiming he knew who the woman who murdered my son was, but 5 days later he was murdered before he got a chance to talk to the FBI (the federal building in Portland was closed for the holiday week and the homeless man died before they reopened).

These 2, the white haired man and younger woman both showed up November 21, 2021, 2 days after the November 19, 2021 murder of the homeless man, who was murdered in the backyard of my Biddeford apartment, by the way, that week our building was yellow taped and crawling with police, that's why they were picking up the hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of chopped up pieces of the homeless man, which took them 3 days to find all of him. The FBI believes the homeless man was killed by someone who did not want him to identify my son's murderer... this homeless man's death is WHY my son's cold case, was reopened and the FBI once again here asking all the neighbors for leads. 

The FBI believes that the reason these two are hyper going from house to house all around me (I have 2 addresses: 409 Main Street Biddeford and 146 Portland Ave, Old Orcharch; and they are going up and down both streets and all side streets off of both streets), trying to spread slanderous rumors about me, most of the rumors involving some gibberish about demons, aliens, haunted cats, kidnapped cats, schizophrenia, and tons of other similar outright gibbering insanity.

The FBI believes they are spreading their wild gibbering slander in a weird attempt to get witness to NOT come forward with information about my son's murder. This in turn has led the FBI to believe that SOMEONE NEAR BY IS a witness to my son's murder and is scared of these two people. It is believed that this weird smear slander campaign these two are doing, is a direct fear tactic aimed at terrorizing someone they know to be a witness. 

These two are bullying and harassing my family on extreme and outlandish levels. The whole thing is very bizarre, and if this woman had NOT started running her gossiping, busy body, slandering mout h off on every front porch in the area, my son's murder investigation would NOT have been reopened. 

The thing is, for 7 years, from 2013 to 2021, there were ZERO leads. 

The mystery homeless man who showed up on the 7 year anniversary, was the first time anyone came forward claiming to know who the murderer was, but he was murdered 5 days later, and 2 days after that these 2 showed up with their wild tales of demons, aliens, haunted cars, etc.  

Interestingly, at the same time, YouTube got flooded with HUNDREDS of deep fake "Golden Eagle Haunted Car" AI generated videos, alongside TENS OF THOUSANDS of weird "anti-EelKat" Reddit posts spread across well over a hundred Reddit accounts. Which in turn caused my website to have a MEGA massive increase in traffic - with now over a million users per month, searching Google for the term "EelKat golden Eagle Ghost Car Wendy Allen Demon Car" (the keyword that Google Analytics says has sent the most traffic to my website since November 2021). In their weird slander attempt, and in making all these weird deep fake videos, and in posting all those weird Reddit posts, they have had an unexpected side effect of RAISING AWARENESS to my son's murder, by sending millions of people to my website. 

I don't do any marketing or promoting of my website, there is the URL painted on my car and the link from my FaceBook profile, together those each around two thousand people. 

This weird smear campaign these 2 have done since November 2021, has had a HUGE impact on traffic to my website. HUGE. With my site going from 10k average monthly visitors to over SEVEN MILLION average monthly visitors. 

This woman and the white haired man, in their mega hyper attempts to slander men, inadvertently caused people to start direct typing the word "EelKat" into Google search engine, which of course cause Google to give them as a search result. In their attempt to BURY all thoughts of my son's murder, by trying to spread crazy rumors about me, they instead caused the page about my son's murder to receive an average of over ONE MILLION NEW USERS visiting it, EACH MONTH since they stated yelling from porches around Biddeford in November 2021. 

Which in turn has also lead to more than one thousand people calling the police and FBI giving tips about my son's murder. 

So, in their attempt to make me look crazy, all they did was make themselves look very, very, VERY guilty, while spreading awareness about my son's murder to people who, before these two arrived on porched in Biddeford and Old Orchard, were unaware of my son's murder. 

But no, back to your question, I've never seen either of these two. I'm blind, remember? Blind since I was 4 years old. Blind from being beaten in the face with a limb from a pine tree. I have been blind for five decades.

And no, I've never spoken with either of them. I'm mute, remember? My jaw was fused shut, from the bone growing back wrong, after being beaten in the face with a cinder block brick, when I was 14 years old. I have been mute for four decades. I was 42 years old when doctors discovered I was not born mute, but was forcable made mute by "medical augmentation" aka torture. In June 2016, I had surgery to allow me to open my jaw properly for the first time in 40 years, but four decades mute, meant my vocal cords never grew properly, never received conditioning, and now today, I still can not speak properly, my voice is barely a whisper, IF I can even form vocalizations at all, which usually I can not. Because of this I have no physical ability to raise my voice at all, I can not scream or yell at all, I am physically, medically incapable of getting my voice to be anything other then a whisper, and even that causes searing pain, resulting in I don't bother trying to speak.

And no, I've not had contact with anyone. From 1983 until 2006 I was locked in a rusted racoon trap cage in a wood shed "room", and there were only 7 people who ever checked in on me that entire time, and they only did that once a week. Needless to say I never went to school. I had a typewriter, and my grandmother brought paper each week. I became very good at typing, because for 27 years, I had nothing else to do. 


October 2006 a bomb blew up that house. I almost died. Someone put the bomb in that "room" while I was asleep. From 2006 to 2015, I lived under a 8x9 tarp at the back of that wood shed.


Out of the entire of my more then five decades of life, I have only had contact with Humans for three years. From October 2010 to November 2013.

In October 2010 I went to the Old Orchard Beach High School and got my GED after 3 weeks of night classes. I got a ride to the DMV and got my driver's permit. Then I enrolled in two colleges York County Community College and Southern Maine Community College, taking five classes per semester. I could not enroll as a degree student because I do not know how to count or tell time or read clocks or calendars or do maths.

At SMCC, three professors (Andrew Parker, Robert Vettes, and Chris M) attempted to teach me how to speak. The SMCC student counselor brought in social workers and a state psychologist who diagnosed me as "a feral child" and stated I had no social skills on any level whatsoever due to what they termed "the most horrific case of child abuse and neglect ever seen in Maine history". They found my not knowing about things like eating utensils, bathing, or communicating verbally to be the worst case of "feral childism" in modern history.

A team of psychiatrists were brought to the college, over a dozen of the world's top child behavior specialists from countries all over the world: to do a study on the "training of a feral child" and to make "attempts to intergrade a feral child into modern American society". They called me an anomaly and a "once in a hundred years chance of a lifetime study subject".

Four of them predicted I would: never drive a car, never learn to talk, never make a single friend, never learn to interact with Humans, never learn to eat with a fork, and never learn  math. 

I became the "test subject" of more then a dozen "feral child studied" which lasted my entire time at college, and ended abruptly November 14, 2013, when a mystery woman who identified herself as "Claire" attacked with a golf club, murdering my baby and leaving me with a broken spine and paralyzed legs.

Even before I became bedridden in 2013, I could not walk unaided. My hip was stabbed with a foundation rod, that was driven through my right hip and out my left thigh. My Uncle Bruce did that when I was 4 years old. I've struggled to even stand, let alone walk, since I was FOUR years old. So being crippled, unable to walk, was not new. But my whole life, it was my hips, and now it is my spine, and a severed nerve bundle in my spinal column.

Since November 2013 I have been bedridden, and the ONLY way you can talk to me or see me is to visit me, visit my bed.

I can not see.

I can not talk.

I can not walk.

Since 2013 I am out of bed fewer then 2 hours a day. 

And NO ONE... not ONE SINGLE PERSON, ever visited me since 2013, or before.

The ONLY people who arrive are the ones who stand in the driveway and on the porch and yell obscenities and hate slurs from the street... and they are too far away for me to see them, and they are too far away for them to hear my whisper if I tried to talk, which I don't. Plus, I can not sit up, it takes well over an hour for me to sit up in my bed, so by the time I am sitting up, they are gone.

So, anyone telling you I have seen them, spoken with them, yelled at them, interacted with them, at ANY point prior to 1983... when I was locked in that cage ... is lying to you. Because since 1983, NO ONE but my husband Benjamin Kitchle Wildes, my grandmother Eva Viola Atwater, and my uncles Bruce, Dickie, & David, and my aunt Barbara has EVER underreacted with me at all. And the only interactions from Brice, David, Dickie, and Barbara was to electrocute me for the fun of watching me pass out, stabbing me with broken glass again for th e fun of it, and beating me with cinder block bricks because breaking the bones of children is funny according to them.

From October 2010 to November 2013, ar the ONLY three years of my life where I ever went outside and had interaction with Humans, and I was seen as so UN-human that 90% of my Human interactions was with psychiatrists who were giddy piss pants excited to have "a real live feral child oh boy!" to study.

So ANYONE telling you they have ever had ANY form of interactions with me EVER in my ENTIRE LIFE, if lying to you, because those interactions I just listed are the ONLY ones that have EVER happened. PERIOD.

You ask how I can remember everything everyone has ever done and said? Easy? Because so FEW people have ever done or said ANYTHING AT ALL, that it makes it each to remember EVERY ONE of them, for the very simple fact that there is literally not one other thing in my life to remember.

More then 99% of the hours of my life have been spent ALONE, in total darkness, in a cage, or alone, bed ridden in a bed, with no one saying ANYTHING to me, no one EVER interacting with me at all... and with fewer then two hundred total interactions with a Human in my ENTIRE LIFE, I am easily able to remember every single one of them.

Two days is the 10 year anniversary of the murder of my 8 month old son. The killer has not been found yet. Old Orchard Beach, Maine Police at 207-935-4911 and Portland Maine FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 are investigating the murder of my son so, if you have any information, please give it to them. 

If you ever made fun of or had any part in the murder of my son, your child shall die an equally horrible death. If you haven't got a child to lose, it will be a brother or sister or parents or spouse or whomever you love the most, and that you should know it was this curse which you brought upon yourself that killed them, they will die on exactly the 7 year anniversary of the very first time, you mocked the death of my child.

Where wee you on your 10th birthday?
I was here:

house-room-floorlessI was looked in this "room" in Old Orchard Beach, Maine for 27 years. From the time I was 8 years old, until I was 31... I escaped in 2010. That's why in 2013 these same people murdered my 8 month old son and crippled me, and drove a backhoe over my house. To punish me for escaping this room.

Where wee you on your 20th birthday?
I was here:


Where wee you on your 30th birthday?
I was here:

house-room-floorlessI was looked in this "room" in Old Orchard Beach, Maine for 27 years. From the time I was 8 years old, until I was 31... I escaped in 2010. That's why in 2013 these same people murdered my 8 month old son and crippled me, and drove a backhoe over my house. To punish me for escaping this room.

You never saw the room Ben and my mother kept me locked in for 27 years from the time I was 8 years old, the one Etiole used to break me out of? Well here you go, photos of it from the 2007 FBI and police reports, THIS is the "room", my mother designed it, my father built it, Bruce hired the priests of the Cape Elizabeth, Saco, and Sanford ward Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to rape me in it... from the time i was 8 until 12, when Ben aka the High Priest came along and declared I was his and from the time i was 12 until 31 Ben kept me in this room only allowing me out on Sundays to attend church. still wonder why I hate the Atwaters? When I was 37 years old the FBI showed up and started the investigation into the trafficking ring the Atwaters ran out of 37 Smithwheel Road and 144 Portland Ave, Maine, this room was a pivotal piece of evidence that was roped off and no one allowed in it because of the FBI investigation... that's why the backhoe that ran over this room August 8, 2013 is such a very big importance... THIS room is what the backhoe was trying to hide. Look close at the floor, you can see the bones of the children who didn't survive.

I'm a survivor of adults who thought selling children to priests was a good income and this room was the biggest piece of evidence the FBI had until the backhoe drove over the house and carried off the remained, doing the biggest tampering of evidence of a fucking murder investigation ... that's WHY the backhoe drove over the house, because the Atwaters were desperate to hide the evidence of this rooms existence, and that's WHY they started the alien abduction hoax about me and Etiole because they thought if they destroyed the room and gaslighted me by spread alien abduction rumors, they thought they could convince everyone i was crazy for saying i was locked in this room for 27 years... but they didn't know before they did that, that the FBI had already been in the room and has HUNDREDS of photos of every inch of it. It was not the only place like this. These Atwater run child trafficking "rooms" have been found in twenty-one states. The FBI has shut down 14 of these child trafficking rings run by the Atwaters. If you support the Atwaters in any way, THIS is what you are supporting. When you send money to an Atwater run fund raiser, you funding building more rooms like this one. That's what they do with your hard earned money. Rooms like this, where small children, are raped and starved. And because the children have no birth records, no ID, they live and die without a paper trail. They exist to be raped daily, until they have their first period and risk getting pregnant, and they the room is locked not to be opened again, until they starve to death. Most die before their 12th birthday.

I'm a survivor, and I survived because of Etiole, because while HUNDREDS of people in Old Orchard Beach, Maine knew of this room, used this room, he was the only person with the moral decency to be horrified by this room and try to stand up to the Atwaters, and try the help the children. He used to break in and try to rescue me. Took me out into the swamps of the Ross Forest. But the Atwaters always found me and took me back.

To discredit me, when I was 14 years old, and escaped to the local police and tried to get help, the Atwaters made up a terrible story: they lied to the police. They told the police, there was no room, and Etiole was a figment of my imagination, they called him a demon at first, and later they called him an alien. The Atwaters spread a horrific lie, telling people that I was an alien abductee. And depending on WHICH Atwater you talked to the story changed wildly: sometimes Etiole was a evil spirit, other times a cryptid, other times a demon, but most often "The Amphibious Alien". 

We had a neighbor back in the 1970s, his name was Stephen King, he wrote about us. My Gypsy family, my car, me, and Etiole. He filmed two movies on our farm, but never once tried to help the children he wrote about. He never tried to help us children, even though his books and movies today exist as evidence that he was well aware of this room and Etiole. Instead, he profited off of our pain and suffering, while 120 of those children were saw up and their bones dumped in the Goosefare Broke Ravine in the Reclaim Blueberry Plains of the Ross Forest of Old Orchard Beach, Maine... bones confiscated by the FBI in June 2016, which led to the arrest of many of the child traffickers at 37 Smithwheel Rod, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, that same year. 

Meanwhile The Atwaters continued to spread their lies about me and Etile, contacting hundreds of alien and UFO and cryptid organizations telling them I was abducted by aliens and Etiole was that alien. Only I have no clue what they were doing and I had never heard of the concept of aliens or cryptids or UFOs, and so I had no clue what MUFON and the UFO nuts were talking about, when they showed up on my farm to interview me and try to catch Etiole, calling him an EBE.

There are no aliens.

There are no demons.

There are no evil spirits.

There are no haunted cars.

There was just this room, and the children raped by Mormon priests... Mormon Priests, known as The Atwaters... Mormon Priests who invented the urban myth of a haunted car and a child abducted by aliens, for one reason, and one reason only: to make the children crazy, if those children ever dared tell people about this room.

Rooms like the one at 144 Portland Ave, 146 Portland Ave, and 37 Smithwheel Road, exist all over the State of Maine, and the 3 the FBI shut down in Old Orchard Beach, ran from the 1950s until 2016. I was put in this room in 1983. That's why I have no knowledge of any world event, any movie, and TV show, and books, anything that occurred between 1983 and 2010.

ALL of the children who survived these rooms, ALL of them, have been slandered the same way the Atwaters slandered me and Etiole. Each with stories of aliens and demons. Thirty-one of those survivors, have commit suicide, all who escaped, killed themselves within 3 years because of the alien abduction lies the Atwaters spread about them, alien abduction lies that are no different then the alien abduction lies the Atwaters spread about me and Etiole.

Yes, I am EelKat, Etiole’s friend, but I don’t know why you call me that, because it’s the other way around. He was my friend. He was my ONLY friend. He was the only person in this godforsaken town of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, who did not value money or sex over the lives of children.

There are ONE group of people who call me an alien abductee. The Atwaters and their evil, child raping church group. They call me an alien abductee, simple as a gaslighting method, of trying to make me sound crazy, so you won’t look at what they are doing to children. They try to make all the children they torture look crazy, so that no one will believe the child when child tells an adult about the rooms or the rape. Trust NO ONE who calls me an alien abductee, because THEY are involved in a very big child trafficking ring.

I am not an alien abductee and I never claimed to be, and if anyone ever told you I was, you should look at them with suspicion and ask what they did, that they are trying to make you look somewhere else, to not see what they are doing.

There are ONE group of people who call Etiole an alien. The Atwaters and their evil, child raping church group. They call him an alien, simple as a gaslighting method, of trying to make me sound crazy, when I was 8 years old said an old man broke into the room and took me into the swamps; they call him an alien so you won’t look at what they are doing to children. They try to make all the children they torture look crazy, so that no one will believe the child when child tells an adult about the rooms or the rape. Trust NO ONE who calls Etiole an alien, because THEY are involved in a very big child trafficking ring.

Etiole is not an alien and I never said he was, and if anyone ever told you he was, you should look at them with suspicion and ask what they did, that they are trying to make you look somewhere else, to not see what they are doing.

He is a local homeless French Jewish man, whom I let sleep in my car on rainy nights so that he can stay dry. Retarded locals think he is a demon or alien or whatever else they call him, because he is covered in scars and burns and Kabalic tattoos and number tattoos from being a concentration camp survivor from WW2.

You can see video footage of his living conditions:


and HERE

and HERE. These videos where filmed in 2022

As you can see from the videos, this homeless man whom my sick jackass Uncle Bruce has spent DECADES harassing, has NOTHING, he LITERALLY is living in a hole he dug with his fingernails, in the sand under a fallen tree, and you can see from these videos WHY I let him sleep in my car, and WHY the shit heads of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford Maine who are harassing this homeless man, calling him a cryptid, calling him an alien, calling him an evil spirit, are scumbag pieces of shit who don't deserve the life god gave them.

The Atwaters and their church group are evil, and if you believe their lies about me or Etiole, then you've fallen for their scam, just like they wanted you to do.

There is right now, in October of 2023, a group of people actively going to houses, store, bars, and restaurants throughout Biddeford and Old Orchard Beach, randomly approaching total strangers and and saying "Have you heard about EelKat?" And then going on some spiel involving wild radical tales of demons, aliens, haunted cars, cats, about 40 people near as we can tell, led by an elderly white haired man who drives a dark green pick up truck and a very fat, extremely morbidly obese blond woman about late 30s/early 40s, who people in the area have dubbed "porch bitch" because she goes from porch to porch all over Biddeford screaming from strangers' porches to walkers on the sidewalk, always screaming "Have you head about EelKat?" usually referencing also my Volvo. The FBI believes these two to be the husband and daughter of the woman who murdered my son. If you know who the white haired man or "porch bitch" are, the FBI is actively seeking information about their identity.

I am legally blind, I have never seen either of these people, so I do not know what they look like, I only know what witnesses are telling me they looked like when they showed up at their homes. I also have Kannar's Syndrome, real and actual (non-verbal, low functioning) Autism (not to be confused with high functioning Aspergers; I am only able to communicate by typing, and so here I am, typing, so I am unable to verbally respond to what these people are telling me. I have agoraphobia so, it is often months between me setting foot outside, but I am crippled with a broken spine from the November 14, 2013 attack of the golf club woman who crippled me when she murdered me son and thus I also can not get out of bed or stand up unaided. I do not know who either porch bitch or the white haired man these people are telling me is approaching them are. My son's murderer whom also crippled me, she I can identify if she ever got close enough again, but these two people whom are suspected of being her husband and daughter, I have not seen and can not identify. When you come to me and tell me they have approached you, you do nothing useful or helpful. I can not take YOUR testimony to the police or FBI, because it is YOUR testimony, not mine. YOU have to tell the POLICE and FBI what these people did. Do not come to me and tell me, because other then post this message here, there is nothing else I can do with the information you have provided.

There is some speculation that porch bitch may in fact live in my apartment building here at 409 Main Street in Biddeford, but I have lived here since February 2019, and of the 9 other families here, only one of them has lived here longer than me. Between the 9 families in our building, there are more then people living in this building and to date, I have met none of them.

Initially I had tried to introduce myself to each family in this building however, they are white and I am not, they are Christians and I am Moron/Voodoo, and this Maine where hatred of all things not white and not Christian are at their worst in the entire country.

White hatred for us Gypsies is very bad here in Maine and many in my family have been beaten, tortured, and murdered by the white Christians of Maine.

Does porch bitch live in our building? I do not know. But many witnesses are now saying they have seen her going in and out of the building, so she either lives here or knows someone who does.

With the extreme anti-Gypsy animosity and anti-Pagan animosity the 9 families who live at 409 Main Street have shown my family since we moved in here on February 2019, I would not be at all surprised if porch bitch not only lived here but the others know it, know what she is doing to my family and are not reporting it to the police simply because, that's what white people do to us non-whites.

Interestingly, witnesses are saying they believe the white haired man with the big green Dodge Ram pickup truck, lives on Portland Ave, very near my farm.

It is deeply disturbing, if this is true, because that means porch bitch and the white haired man are doing very severe levels of stalking, because my family has lived at 146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach since the 1530s, we settled and founded the town, and in 2019 when I moved into this apartment in Biddeford, no one else lived in this building, other then the gay couple who are still here and the only ones here longer than me. And also in 2019, there was no white haired man living near me on Portland Ave. 

This means, the man suspected of being "Clair's husband and the woman suspected of being "Claire's" daughter, Claire being the name the woman who murdered my son, called herself, have moved in next door to BOTH of my addresses within the last 3 years.

Claire used a golf club to beat my 8 month old son's head in with. If you are protecting Claire, know that THAT is the sort of child murdering bitch you are defending.

Claire's identity is the one we want. We want to know who she is. In 2021 a homeless man showed up in my driveway, claiming he knew who Claire was... 2 days later he was dead on the train tracks and splattered across the back of my house, and 2 days after that, this porch bitch woman showed up. We don't know who any of these people are, not the homeless man, not porch bitch, not Claire. We only got the name Claire, because that's what the bald man with her,November 14, 2013, the day she murdered my son, that's what he called her, and she answered him to that name, like it was her real name.

The Claire who murdered my son, she's who we are looking for... and apparently we got really close in 2021, because that's when porch bitch showed up with her wild alien/demon/cat slander, and she's working over time spreading her slander as far and as wide as she can, making it damn clear, she's scared shitless of us finding out who Claire is.

So, NOW, the FBI is not just asking for information about Claire's identity, they now want the identity of both Biddeford's porch bitch and Old Orchard Beach's white haired elderly man driving the mega, big 2ton dark green Dodge Ram pick up.

These 2 people closing in on my family, DAYS after a witness came forward saying he knew who Claire was, a witness who died 2 days later, before the FBI agents had a chance to talk to him... this is terrifying for my family, and it's deeply disturbing.

Porch bitch and her friends are terrorizing my family. And less then a month ago they killed my dog Mickey. There is something wrong with these people. These are NOT good people.

This is very, very deeply disturbing.

This makes them, in addition to everything else: stalkers.

Keep in mind too, porch bitch is the woman who poisoned and killed my dog Mickey only a few weeks ago. And one week before she poisoned and killed my dog, Mickey, she showed up at PortCon 2023, with a gang of about 12 others, at Round 1 in the Maine Mall, and tried to kill me, by peeling back the cheese on my pizza and loading it up with onions, something I am deadly allergic to. I would have been dead within 15 minutes had I eaten it. Porch bitch is dangerous. And she wants me dead. And she thinks nothing of killing my pets. She's proven that much.

There are HUNDREDS of people throughout Biddeford and Old Orchard Beach contacting me, both online and in person offline, telling me that these people approached them at random. They appear to be hellbent on approaching every single person to set foot in either town, so if you are in Biddeford or Old Orchard Beach you'll likely encounter them sooner or later if you haven't already. They appear to have been doing this since around May 2021, but so far no one knows who they are.

One detail though: porch bitch, has been saying some very specific information about the murder that was NEVER made public, and is not in the police public access report, it's only in the FBI's classified report. The ONLY person who knows this detail is the murderer herself, and porch bitch is too young to be the murderer. The blond golf club woman who attacked me November 14, 2013, was in her late 60s to early 70s, she'd be in her late 70s or early 80s today. Porch bitch is young enough to be her daughter or granddaughter. But porch bitch has been saying information that ONLY the murderer would know, so porch bitch DOES have personal contact with my son's murderer and is probably dangerous herself.

She has information that was never released to the public. Information the police and fbi kept out of public access reports. Information that was kept classified so it could be used to identify the murderer. Information she could only get, from the murderer. She is using 27 Facebook accounts and over 100 Reddit accounts to post that information as far and wide as possible, while gathering up a large group from the Sanford ward church to go around Biddeford and Old Orchard Beach also spreading that classified information, while at the same time spreading the rumors and lies that I am an alien Abducted and Etiole is an alien, while also spreading rumors of my cars being haunted, while also making hundreds of deep fake videos on YouTube about me and my cars and Etiole. She is orchestrating a huge defamation slander smear campaign, which you have seen some of the videos about me and my car. Fbi believes she is the daughter of the golf club bitch who murdered my baby and is doing this because Tod Murphy told the FBI his mother was bragging to be the golf club woman. Porch bitch showed up same time Tod Murphy did, in fall of 2021. The Sanford ward people joined her around May 2022. Fbi is currently investigating every one connected to the Sandford ward, and they now believe the golf club woman to have been a member in 2013. You don't have full details of what porch bitch is doing, who is helping her, and how alarmingly large scale what she is doing is, simply because I can not give you full details. There is a lot of information about porch bitch and her crew that I've not said, things the FBI and police are aware of, and you the general public, don't need to be aware of.

These people are actively and deliberately making a massive attempt to compromise an FBI murder investigation, alongside huge levels of victim shaming.

Porch bitch clearly knows who the murderer is, and the FBI is looking for ANY information you have that leads to identifying porch bitch, because arresting porch bitch, is right now, the #1 best chance of also finding and arresting my son's killer.

If you have any information about any of these events, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Never forget: my son was murdered. That's what they want you to forget. They make up crazy rumors and lies because they want you to think about something, anything OTHER then my son's murder. And the ONLY person with THAT motive, is the golf club wielding blond woman, and anyone who is trying to cover up her crimes.

They want you to forget my son was murdered.

Clearly porch bitch is scared shitless that the killer, someone she knows, will be arrested soon, or she wouldn't be so hyper vigilant in her mega extreme slander campaign going on in Biddeford, Maine right now.

Beware of ANYONE who calls Etiole an alien, for he is not an alien and they are lying to you about him, as a slight of hand means of misdirection, to turn you away from seeing their own crimes.

Beware of anyone who tells you I believe in aliens, for I do not, and they are lying to you in a gaslighting technique meant to keep you from noticing the crimes they commited.

Trust no one who tells you I cast curses or consort with demons, for I do neither, and they say these things to you out of malicious motives, to make you look at anything other than themselves. They don't want you to see the sins they do, so they spread wild and bizarre rumors about me and an elderly homeless veteran, in a magicians pallor trick of misdirection. They use me and Etiole as their smoke and mirrors, so that you are looking the other way, while they get away with heinous crimes.

Beware of anyone who calls me a witch, for I am a Mormon, 5th generation, and we Mormons do not believe in witchcraft.

I need not tell you their names, for by their own actions, they will reveal themselves to you.

Pay very close attention to anyone who approaches you to "warn you" about EelKat... because remember too, my name is not EelKat. My name is Wendy Christine Allen. EelKat is a fictional character, a talking back fairy cat, from a Space Fantasy novel. Miss Citten The Eel Kat is Empress of Planet Ptarmagin and she travels to distant galaxies in a star ship, collecting deep space eels from other planets, her name is unpronounceable, so people call her "The Eel Kat" because she is the cat who has pet eels. The book was titled "Friends Are Forever" and it was published in 1978. You have to be severely mentally disabled in order to think that a talking space cat from a Fantasy novel is real, let alone be crazy enough to think that the author is that character. The very fact alone that porch bitch refers to ME as EelKat, that alone tells you the deeply disturbed fantasy prone mental case we are dealing with her. Her inability to discern fiction from reality, and he belief that I, a real person, an EelKat, a fictional space cat from a novel, or her belief that a local homeless veteran, is an alien, or her belief that my Dodge or my Volvo are demon possessed, that alone tells you what type of incredibly dangerous psychopath porch bitch really is. 

You can see video footage of his living conditions:


and HERE

and HERE.

THAT is the homeless veteran, this woman is calling an alien or a demon, depending on which delusion she is babble that day. THAT is Etoile. THAT is how he lives. THAT is who this deplorable woman is harassing.

Pay very close attention to anyone who approaches you to "warn you" about EelKat or otherwise tries to convince you I have anything to do with aliens, demons, curses, or witches, for they are deceiving you, and they do so, to draw your attention away from themselves. 

Never forget, my son was murdered on November 14, 2013, and the killer still walks free, and anyone telling you anything about aliens, demons, curses, or witches, has one goal and one goal only: a flagrant attempt to discredit me, and protect my son's murderer.

They ONLY want you to think about aliens to make you forget my son was murdered.

The FBI is looking for my son's killer AND the identity of the people who are trying to hinder their investigation.

If anyone approaches you and tells you Etiole is an alien CALL FBI Agent Andy Drewer and tell him who they are. They ONLY want you to think about aliens to make you forget my son was murdered.

Never forget, November 14, 2023 will be the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 

If anyone approaches you and tells you that I believe in aliens CALL FBI Agent Andy Drewer and tell him who they are. They ONLY want you to think about aliens to make you forget my son was murdered. 

Never forget, November 14, 2023 will be the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

If anyone approaches you and tells you Etiole is a demon CALL FBI Agent Andy Drewer and tell him who they are. They ONLY want you to think about demons to make you forget my son was murdered. 

Never forget, November 14, 2023 will be the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 

If anyone approaches you and tells you that I believe in demons CALL FBI Agent Andy Drewer and tell him who they are. They ONLY want you to think about demons to make you forget my son was murdered.

Never forget, November 14, 2023 will be the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

If anyone approaches you and tells you that I cast curses CALL FBI Agent Andy Drewer and tell him who they are. They ONLY want you to think about curses to make you forget my son was murdered. 

Never forget, November 14, 2023 will be the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

If anyone approaches you and tells you that I am a witch CALL FBI Agent Andy Drewer and tell him who they are. They ONLY want you to think about witches to make you forget my son was murdered. 

Never forget, November 14, 2023 will be the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

They are going out of their way to try to make you forget my son died, by coming up with ludicrous tales of aliens and demons. And the ONLY person with ANY motive to do that, is the blond woman who murdered my son.

They want you to forget my son was murdered.


Never forget, November 14, 2023 will be the 10 year anniversary of the November 14, 2013 murder of my 8 month old infant son, at BugLight Lighthouse Art Studio of Southern Maine Community College in South Portland, Maine. If you have any information about who his killer is, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

They are going out of their way to try to make you forget my son died, by coming up with ludicrous tales of aliens and demons. And the ONLY person with ANY motive to do that, is the blond woman who murdered my son.