Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978)
Happy 2026!
It is our 30th anniversary here at Space Dock 13!
On the web since 1996!
You have encountered an extremely old website that continues to exist in old web ways, the same way it has done for now three decades.
In spite of being now 30 years old this year, started in 1996, it is still heavily active and old pages updated daily, new pages added daily, still now in 2026. All hand written, all hand coded (no AI), all by me, same as it ever was.
We Still Exist: The Old Web Did Not Go Away, You Just Forgot How To Find Us
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This site was NOT designed for mobile devices (as they had not been invented yet when I created it) thus this site looks best on a computer, at 1280x768 or above. |
This is a very old website created in 1996, so, yes, javascript is needed for the site to work as it should. If things don't function, you may need to update javascript drivers on your device |
This site tries to be mobile friendly but it's been online since 1996, so old pages may not load right on mobile devices, and as this site has had pages added near daily for 30 years there are now over 20k pages here. |
Having started out in life as a GeoCities site, this site contains glitter, bright colours, blinkies, moving gifs, and other things the old web was known for. |
Quaraun The Insane:
Volume 1:
The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
Captured By The Lich Lord
Note that this is from the unedited draft, and not the finished manuscript. It contains many errors, not yet corrected, that are corrected in the published novel. This version was put here unedited, because I use it as part of an editing workshop, so students can see the differences between a 1st draft and it's edited finished product. There are ZERO pages of the finished/edited/final version published novel available free to read online. These unedited sample pages are intended to be used as teaching tools for creative writing students, learning how to edit a novel, showing what parts to change, what parts to remove, what parts to correct, ect. Not seen here, is a worksheet that is handed out at the workshops, which students use to find errors and mark corrections.
The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
Captured By The Lich Lord
- Official Home Page Of Wendy C Allen: Old Orchard Beach & Biddeford, Maine's Autistic Artist, Doll Designer, Art Car Builder, and Dark Fantasy MPreg Author
- A Short Fiction Story
- An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
- The Quaraun Series Prologue
- Quaraun Pink Necromancer Info 2
- Index of Pink Necromancer Fiction on Space Dock 13 (EelKat.com)
- Captured By The Lich Lord | The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
f you are here looking for aliens, ufos, demons, cryptids, haunted cars, curses, Etiole, the wild man of old orchard beach, the goldeneagle car, the white monkey, or any of that other weird bullshit, you want this video:
...and after that video, you want these ones:
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 Wendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again.Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title. List of the published titles still in print: The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series What the series is about, for those new here: |
If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters:
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My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.
As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.
There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.
Coming soon (Nov/Dec 2026)... patterns for my slow stitched embroidery:
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The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.
There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.
I shouldn't have to say this, but people keep contacting me, so apparently I do:
- No, I do not believe in aliens. Stop contacting me to ask for alien information. If you believe in aliens, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, my car is not haunted. I've debunked that rumour many times now. . Stop contacting me to ask for haunted car information. If you believe in haunted cars, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, I am not connected to Stephen King. I didn't even know who he was until you idiots started contacting me asking about him. I had to look him up on Google to find out what you were even talking about! If you have questions about Stephen King, go contact him and ask him. I'm not him. I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I've never read one of his books. I've never seen one of his movies. I can't figure out why you people are even coming to me to ask about him in the first place!
- If someone told you I believe in aliens, if someone told you my car was haunted, if someone told you I was connected to Stephen King, you NEED to contact the FBI agent in charge of my son's murder investigation and TELL HIM WHO it was who told ou, exactly WHAT it was they said, HOW they contacted you, WHERE they contacted you... because it is a KNOWN FACT that my son's murderer is the one who started all these slanderous alien, haunted car, Stephen King rumours, and the FBI is trying to catch her.
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Do you know who this woman is?
On August 8, 2013 she drove a backhoe over my house. On November 14, 2013 she arrived at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me with a golf club and murdered my son. One June 24, 2016, days after my first attempts to walk again, she attacked me with a shopping cart at Scarborough, Walmart, reinjuring the Nov 14, 2013 injury.
She crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet id-ed the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club.
Complete details of EVERYTHING she did is on this page here.
 The golf club woman who called herself Clair as she looked November 14, 2013. Her hair is a weird chin leangth pageboy (very Medival style cut) platinum blonde with wide brown/black dyed stripes in it (like a reverse of Lily Munster, but the stripes are several, almost like a zebra). I am 5'6" and she was a LOT taller then me, like closer to the height of a man; she had thin lips like a man, and large nose like a man... she COULD have been a man disguised as a woman, given the ease with which she severed my spine....she's is a LOT stronger then is typical for a woman). She was wearing a chambre blue denim "blazer jacket over shirt" and a button up mens shirt (possibly flannel) and blue jeans. The bulk of her yelling was focused on accusing me of being transgender, even while ripping my baby out of my 8 month pregnant belly and bashing his head in with a golf club. |
 The Claire woman as she looked during her shoping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart June 2016, the attack with left me paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Her hair was dyed dark red, and she drove away in a gold Volvo 240 Station Wagon of a late 1980s/early1990s model, with a "458" on the lisnce plate.... If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
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If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Good god! We just found out about yet another slanderous rumour this woman has been spreading? When does it end? How many more of these things are out there?
Video explains what else she's done ...
If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
 If you encounter anyone claiming my car is haunted, demon possessed, or somehow connected to Stephen King please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
If you encounter anyone claiming I believe in aliens or was an alien abducttee, please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.  If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
I am sick and tired of people not giving a shit that my son was murdered!
I am sick and tired of jackasses making up rumours and lies about me and my car, calling me an alien abductee and my car haunted, just to try to cover up my son's murder!
The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
Captured By The Lich Lord
Note that this is from the unedited draft, and not the finished manuscript. It contains many errors, not yet corrected, that are corrected in the published novel. This version was put here unedited, because I use it as part of an editing workshop, so students can see the differences between a 1st draft and it's edited finished product. There are ZERO pages of the finished/edited/final version published novel available free to read online. These unedited sample pages are intended to be used as teaching tools for creative writing students, learning how to edit a novel, showing what parts to change, what parts to remove, what parts to correct, ect. Not seen here, is a worksheet that is handed out at the workshops, which students use to find errors and mark corrections.
The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
Captured By The Lich Lord
"I'm sorry I bothered you," Quaraun said nervously. "I feel I should leave.”
Quaraun glanced around the room, for a means of escape. The front door appeared to be the only way in or out of this room. There were no other doors, not even a window. Something was wrong. From the outside, this building was huge, there should be doors to a kitchen, stairs leading up stairs. It was off. It was wrong. Why had he not noticed this before? There had been windows on the outside, where were they now? There were no windows in here. Not one. Like the tiny heart shaped bag on his belt, the inside of this place did not match its outside. There was magic here and a Phooka. Faerie magic. And a Faeries, sitting in plain sight in broad daylight. He should have left the moment he had seen the Phooka. Quaraun backed away from the Phooka that was attempting to get closer to the door.
"Oh no, do no leave, ya've only just arrived, besides that time is passed. We tried to let ya leave an ya did'na go, so yis stuck here now," purred the Phooka. "Pray tell me more aboot ya self. What clan is ya from, luscious Elven Stranger?"
"If there is going to be an issue of my race, I will kindly leave and seek shelter elsewhere." Quaraun turned to leave, but found the door now be guarded by a pair of rough looking black eyed, black haired, beardless Dwarves each armed with several large nasty looking weapons.
Beardless Dwarves.
That wasn't right.
Quaraun put his ears back, as a hint of fear swept through his chest. There was no such thing as beardless Dwarf. Even their women had beards. It was clear the inhabitants, of this town, were not what they appeared to be. They were not Dwarves and they were not friendly towards Elves.
Quaraun now desperately wanted to leave.
"Ya will'na find shelter elsewhere in this town, not here nor elsewheres, mainly because there is no elsewheres," growled the Phooka menacingly, rising from his seat. "There is no towns for miles around. In fact there is no town here at all. Only me."
Quaraun hesitated not knowing what to do. He was not a fighter, he disliked physical confrontations. It as obvious the guards at the door would not let him walk out. And the Phooka behind him, Quaraun didn't know what he felt about it, it aroused him and repulsed him at the same time, he just wanted to get away from it fast.
"Perhaps ya should just fucking order a meal," said the Phooka, not taking his eyes off Quaraun. "How aboot some nice mutton, eh?"
"I am an Elf," Quaraun answered arrogantly. "We do not eat meat."
"Ooooh! Always the snobby ones ain't they?" The Phooka laughed and then flashed a wide grin. "Ya eating meat, twere not what I had in mind. Mutton fat make ya nice and slick. Easy to fuck. More things to do with mutton then eat it."
"No?" Once again, Quaraun was not paying much attention to the Phookas words, his attention elsewheres. He was too busy noticing that the room seemed to much smaller than it had been moments earlier.
"No. We twere thinking more along the lines of a nice bowl of mutton fat to grease that fine white bahookie of yous. We can think of so many things to does with ya that does not involve eating ya. We be alone a wickit long time an there be other things I desiren more than food. Be ya male or female really does no matter to me. I'll take ya either way, though I admit I is rather glad yis a male. We likes that better."
Quaraun turned back to face the dark Faerie, his blue eyes widened by the sudden realization what the Phooka had in mind.
"Indeed," Quaraun said dryly. "I think I shall take my leave of your establishment. Good day."
The Moon Elf walked back to the door intending to push past the guards, but the door suddenly was no longer there, replaced instead by a stone wall. Quaraun turned back toward the Phooka and nearly crashed into the beast as it was now standing inches before him.
“Ya ain't no been listening to me, Elf.”
"Please let me leave," Quaraun said to the Phooka.
"Oh, no. We think not. Ya see we already tried that ya would'na go. And now, I has did changed me mind. It be been ever so long since we've had an Elf to play with."
2016 extended Edition epic leangth novel cover art
300 page epic novel mass market release
The Phooka reached up between the Elf's thighs and grasped his balls, much harder than he had done before. Quaraun gasped and quickly backed away. The Phooka let go of him, letting him step away.
"Please let me leave, I wish to cause no trouble. I was unaware that my people were unwelcome here. Please, I will go back the way I came, I meant no harm."
The Phooka laughed maniacally. "Ya walk into Faerie territory an ya expect to leave? Hahahahahaha! Yis in my country now, Elf. This is the Forest of No Return. Turn ya brain on, Quaraun, ya know this forest, ya has seen it a'forah. It grew up once in ya village. Does ya no remember? I can take me forest anywheres I desiren to. No one leaves the Realm of Fae. No one leaves me Forest of No Return. Thus the name."
Quaraun moved to step towards the door, hoping it was there and just he couldn't see it, but the instant he did he was grabbed by two more Phookas who had materialized behind him. They held him, while a third shackled his arms and legs. Before he had a chance to realize what was happening, Quaraun found himself chained to a giant pine tree. His back to the tree and arms wrapped behind its girth. The position was terribly uncomfortable and did nothing to help the pain from his wounds. He tried not to cry out. Letting the Phooka know he was injured was the last thing he wanted to do.
The room flickered, then blinked out like a snuffed candle, the forest growing up fast around him. The bar, the tables and the chairs, everything dissolved into bushes and tree stumps. The Dwarves and Gnomes twisted and melted away, as sharp fanged, grinning, black haired, black eyed, dark skinned Phookas took their place. He was so busy being scared of them, that he did not notice the Phooka had dressed him by name.
“See? I gone done drop a house on you head, an ya were just too busy worrying aboot having you luscious ripe mangos squeezed, to hear a word me twere saying. Ya should learn to pay better attention to you surroundens.”
What had once stood as a town, now faded away and became a crumbling fortress, long ago overgrown with vines. An ancient castle, now collapsed and tumbled to ruins. The path by which Quaraun had entered, had also disappeared, replaced by many tall towering pines. The port and the ships whispered into fog as the empty ocean crashed screaming against the rocky shore. The storm was gone too, replaced now by the dense ocean fog that rolled through the vast old growth forest.
“I coulds squeeze ya kiwis agains an it'd be the only thing ya'd notice agains. Ya like it. It all ya think aboot. Ya miss ya BoomFuzzy. Ya miss him a fucking shit load ton, eh?”
“Please let me go.”
"This is me Forest of No Return, ya can'na leave. We simply will'na let ya, it 'tis such rare treat for us to serve Elf on our menu. The Elves just does no make a habit of waltzing in here, ya know? Ya aristocratic ceety Elves is kind of stupid, ya ain't the survival smarts that the feral Wood Elves has. That be why they be so damned hard to catch."
The Phooka being shorter than Quaraun, now stood eye level to Quaraun by standing on Elf's pink boots and leaning forward nose to nose to Quaraun, while stroking his soft white hair.
"My but yis a pale one ain't we?"
Quaraun now fully realized he had walked into a town that did not exist. His mind reeled, trying to think of a way out of this.
“Faeries.”
“Yep. Ya gone done walked right through a portal into me Realm of Fae Ye ain't no more in ye own world. This here be my world. We created it. We rule it. And ya can no get outs unless I lets ya..We is but god in our own insane asylums here an yis me prisoner.”
“Please let me go.”
“How come?”
“I don't want to die.”
“An hour ahgoo ya wanted to die so much ya twere ready to kill ya self.”
“I want the pain to go away.”
“I can help ya with that.”
“You're an Elf Eater.”
“I is.”
“I don't want to die. I just want to find a reason to live.”
“Now I has given ya a reason to want to live.
"Elf Eaters are Faeries. I forgot.”
The Phooka nodded. “Aye, that is what we is.”
Quaraun had not been thinking about Faeries. He'd been worried about monsters and storms. Faeries hadn't even crossed his mind.
2014 novel Edition Cover Art
first mass market release 130 page short novel edition
“Stupid! I should never walk into a forest without checking for Faeries.”
“No, ya shouldn't.” The Phooka continued to rub his hands over Quaraun's chest. "And I is positive ya twere taught that to. Ya twere taught by the bestest of the bestest. I ought to knows. I is the bestest.”
The town, the tavern, the people, it had all an illusion created by these dark horrible bloodthirsty Faeries. No wonder there were no Elves in the mix. No Elf in their right mind would set foot in a Faerie Forest. The Faeries were not to be trusted.
Quaraun scolded himself silently, while trying to ignore the rising excitement he felt at the Phooka's gentle touch. More then the Phooka's touch was the intoxicating smell of his hair. Now that the Phooka was very close to him, Quaraun could smell the fragrance of clove, cinnamon, and anise in the creature's hair. It was the same smell he associated with BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy had, had long thick dreadlocks that he washed in the oils of cloves cinnamon, and anise. In the years since BoomFuzzy's death, Quaraun had avoided contact with these spices because they reminded him too much of BoomFuzzy.
“How did I let myself get captured by Dark Brackish Water Faeries? I'm smarter than this. I knew better than to walk into a town or a building without first checking for traps, illusions, or dark magic. I let my guard down. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Was so worried so much by the coming storm, never even thought to check for any hint of magic. Especially in such a deep old growth forest as this. This is exactly the type of place Dark Faeries hang out. “
“Aye, checking for magic would has been the smart thing to done. Especially in a storm, near the ocean, in an old growth forest. Prime sign ya got a Water Faerie that can control the weather in the area. But ya know that be odd thing to think because most folks would'na of thought to done that anyways.”
Quaraun wasn't listening to the Faerie, however, he was continuing to talk to himself as though no one was in the room with him at all.
“Do ya always talk to ye self, Elf?”
Quaraun was too busy scolding himself to notice the Fae had spoken.
“Ya did no usit does that. Ya been living alone too long ain't ya? Not had no one but yer self to converse with, eh?”
The Phooka, poked Quaraun in the stomach to get his attention.
“I twere talking to yas, there, Elf. Ya got so caught up in ya conversation with ya self ya did no notice, eh?”
“I hate Phookas.”
“Ya did no usit. We remember a time when ya loved Phookas. Could no get enough of one Phooka in particular.”
“I should have known there'd be Faeries in these woods.” Quaraun continued talking to himself. “Should have suspected it as soon as I realized the inside of the building didn't match the outside. Why hadn't I noticed the lack of windows sooner?”
“Windees, eh? Hmmm. Did'na notice I forgots them. Does gets fucking hard to keep track of all the little fucking details, especially when one is going on fucking long dead memories.”
“It was that stupid map. I should never have listened to that map. I should have been on my guard for Faeries at every step. And I especially should have suspected something was wrong the moment I saw you, a Phooka, sitting out in a public place in broad daylight. Why didn't I think to turn and leave the moment I saw the Phooka?”
“An talking to yaself. Ya didna usit do that, ya know. Oh does no look so glum.”
“Phookas are nasty creatures, darkest, cruellest, bloodiest, most black hearted shape-shifting tricksters of all the races of Fae.” Quaraun spat on the beast. ”Phookas are deviant bloodthirsty creatures, they eat their prisoners and bath in their blood.”
“Aye, an we can turn into anything. Change into a bathtub an wait for someone to get in, then swallow ya whole. Eat you mother then sit in you house disguised as you mother, wait for ya to come home then when ya least expect it, I'll eat ya too. Ya coulds no even trust you mother to not be a Phooka. Or a Thullid for that matter, eh? We can shift into anything or anyone. Nothing an no one coulds be trusted in Phooka territory. We is even bloodier than RedCaps an FarDarrigs combined. Isn't it wonderful! We always live in cairn ruins deep in old growth pine forests, near the edge of brackish water. Oceans, swamps, an marshes is wheres one expects to find us Phookas.”
“And here I am in a swamp infested ancient forest on the edge of the ocean. Damn me for not paying attention to all those warning signs. I walked right into your trap.”
Quaraun looked up at the sky. The thunder and lightning had stopped. The storm had disappeared.
"The storm was illusion as well," Quaraun muttered out loud, noticing that the clouds had sunk and turned to a low fog.
"Oh, yes," the Phooka nodded gleefully. "It brings so many right into our tavern. Or, well, it usit. Perhaps it still does an I just does not see them. All pink an white, ya stand out. The lost, the weary, the tired travellers who find themselves so far off the beaten path, see a storm bearing down on them, an suddenly a glimmer of hope, a path in the woods appears, leading them right here to me! Hot food, cauld drink, warm bed, it really is a pleasant place to be, until I eat them of course. They twould so enjoy a nice long vacation here with us, we can be such pleasant company, such a pity they never live through the night."
"Because you eat them."
The Phooka nodded emphatically, giggling uncontrollably, while his solid black eyes danced and sparkled with wicked glee.
Quaraun pulled at the chains which bound his wrists. He couldn't tell if the shackles were real or more illusion. They might be nothing but pine needles for all he knew. Whatever they were, he was held tight and wasn't going anywhere soon. Phookas were powerful magical creatures. Their power rivalled that of the Liches. In fact, it was said that at least one of the Lich Lords had started out in life as a Phooka making him far more formidable than the others. And Phookas didn't need to study wizardry to do what they did, they just did it. It was a natural born ability for them.
Quaraun usually picked up on Faerie magic, but Phookas were different from other Fae. Older, wiser, and far more powerful. And they gained more power as they aged. Quaraun estimated, but the power this Phooka seemed to possess, he must have been truly ancient.
Quaraun had never encountered a Phooka before, he only knew of them from stories, scrolls, textbooks. But he knew they had to be as powerful as the rumours told, for him to not have sensed their magic auras as soon as he'd entered their area.
"So the Screaming Unicorn was a monster's lair after all," Quaraun muttered to himself, not realizing he'd said it out loud.
"How be that, eh?" Asked the Phooka. He appeared startled by the words Screaming Unicorn.
"A map lead me here."
"A map, eh? Ho! Ho! Really? What a fuckingly delightful ting. A map! How come for we never thought of maps did we? Think of all the food we coulds herd our way with maps sold to travellers of other towns. Such a delightful thought. Isn't it a delightful thought? Haha!"
The other Phookas all nodded and cheered in agreement. Quaraun suspected they might be too scared of their leader to not agree with him, for some of them looked positively terrified of him. Rumours said that the Phookas were cannibals as well. If they could find no one else to eat, they took to eating each other. A Phooka who lead the clan, would likely be the most fierce, the most feared, the most powerful, and the most deadly.
"What is this Screaming Unicorn?" Quaraun asked.
"Oh why that would me. I am the Screaming Unicorn."
"You?" Quaraun felt uneasy and confused. Unicorns were only slightly less pleasant than Phookas. "You are no Unicorn."
"Oh quite the contrary, we can bes anything we desiren to be, an I often likes to be a unicorn."
The Phooka faded away and a giant black unicorn with shining silver horn now stood in its place. Hoping the Phooka's magic was weakened by his changing forms, Quaraun pulled at the chains again, but they were held tight, or at least they seemed to be. He wasn't sure what was real and what was illusion any more. 'Or perhaps, I'm just too weak to fight a simple illusion.'
"Oh, it 'tis no use struggling, ya won't break free." The Phooka shifted again, back to his natural dark humanoid form, a unicorn no more. "No use trying, even if ya coulds break free, ya coulds no get far, the trees is at me command, they will uproot an walk for me, rearrange themselves, ya won't get past. There is no paths out of here, they carefully covered every last one. We told them too. Even as delightfully skinny an trim as yis, ya can'na even squeeze atween their trunks. Can ya see how close they has come together now, eh?"
"Yes. I had noticed that."
"Oh goody!" The Phooka squealed. "We coulds no tell if we had done that one right."
"You couldn't..."
"Hard to see the forest for the trees these days. Me eyes not what they usit be."
"So, the trees are illusions as well? Damn, you are one powerful Phooka."
"Oh, why thank ya. We do try."
"No, but it's not just you, it's a whole tribe," Quaraun muttered glumly. "No wonder the magic was so strong. Phookas are usually solitary, and here you are an entire tribe of Phookas working together to create this massive illusion."
"Tribe?" The Phooka looked around puzzled. "Oh, yes. we forgot they were there. Clap for the Elf, boys, hims can learn this one can."
The other Phookas clapped as they were told, but stopped when the Screaming Unicorn waved his hand at them. They fell silent again and hunkered down at the edge of the tree line to watch what their leader planned to do with the Elf.
Quaraun wondered how far the illusion spread. Was the forest even real? Well, one thing was for sure. If the chains were illusions, they were damn good ones. The Phooka was right, Quaraun wasn't going anywhere.
"What do you want from me?" Quaraun asked Unicorn, assuming this to be their leader, based on how the others seemed to obey his every command.
"The truth," the Phooka sounded very grave and menacing now.
"I don't understand?"
"Who is ya an why is ya here?"
"I have told you already."
"No. Ya told me ya were a merchant"
"I am."
"And a traveller.”
“That is the truth."
"Off to see the world."
"That is what I am doing."
"I wish I coulds see the world."
"All you have to do is leave this place and travel."
"How will travel help me see the world, eh?"
2013 long novella extended Edition cover art
the 80 page short run edition
"I don't understand, your question," Quaraun said, confused by the Phooka’s words.
"Yis a stupid Elf. Yis young. The world is you's to see." The Phooka shook his head as he moved closer to the Elf. "And ya said came here, to me, in me Forest of No Return, by use of a map!"
"I did."
"Ya lie!"
"I am not lying to you."
"Yis a Thullid wizard."
Quaraun did not respond to this. He wasn't sure what to say. He looked away from the Phooka not wanting to meet it's dark searching eyes.
"Stupid Thullid spawnling of an Elf. Answer me, Elf. Is ya or is ya not a wizard?"
"Yes, that is also true," Quaraun admitted. "How did you know I am a wizard?"
"Because when ya walked in, ya looked right at me. Ya saw me in the crowd. No one ever sees me. Ya had no reason to look me way. Ya sensed I twere there. When we spoke to ya, ya heard me, ya answered me. No one ever hears me. They hear a whisper on the wind. I am powerful. Feared among Phookas. Me illusions is strong. No normal person would has seen me. I am invisible to all save a few. We can not be seen by the normal mortal eye. And no normal wizard would has seen me either. 'tis a good disguise that ya wears."
"Disguise? I wear no disguise."
The Phooka slithered up close to Quaraun, pressing his warm body against Quaraun's thin frame and fingered the shimmering pink cape. Unicorn ran its hands up and down the slippery silky material of Quaraun's robes. Quaraun could feel the creature's warm body against his, smell the intoxicating scent of its mossy woodsy pine, anise, and clove scented flesh, hear its racing heartbeat. Quaraun suddenly found himself feeling attracted to this dark creature.
"Oh? Ain't it? So no disguise here, eh? Ya dressed like a saloon prostitute, not a wizard."
The Phooka ran his finger around the outline of first one embroidered heart and then another. then pressing his lips to the Moon Elf's ear, whispered:
"Nothing meant to deceive folks into think yis just an ordinary Elf travelling on his merry little way, eh? Do ya know why we grabbed you kiwis back there? Because we tweren't sure if ya twere a man or a woman. Tis a wickit fine disguise, always hard to tell male Elves to begin with, they is all so thin an wiry, with pretty hairless bodies, smooth never need to shave faces. Can usually tell by the way they dress. But ya? Ya dress likes a woman, but ya smell likes a man. Strong sense of smell we Phookas has, we can pick up on you sexual desires, by the change of you smell. Which is why I decided not to let ya leave. Here yis, anyone would look at ya an see a bonny little female Elf, tripping an skipping, happily along on her merry little way, as bonny little female Elves does, all fancy, dancy, in you pretty pink frills."
The Phooka reached into Quaraun's skirts and began squeezing and massaging his balls again.
"But ya likes that doncht ya? And ya not trying to stop me neither. Just like ya never stopped the BoomFuzzy from doing it to ya. Ya be an Elf what likes be'an fondled. Oh goody goody gumdrops! Oh, I likes ya. Ha ha!”
“Please stop touching me.”
“Yis a male wizard, disguised as a female prostitute.”
“This is not a disguise. This is how I dress. Always. Every day. I like pink. I like ruffles. I like glitter. I like feathers. And dresses are more comfortable then pants.”
“Not a disguise. No? Yis packing more atween you legs then a woman does. To the world yis nothing more than a bonny female Elf, off the see the world. No one would suspect one dressit so fancy, so pink, so daintily, so colourfully feminine of be'an an evil male Necromancer, now would they? Hmm?"
The Phooka released his grasp on Quaraun and stepped back away from from the Elf, to look him squarely in the eye.
"That is what yis, ain't it, Stranger? Yis a Necromancer. Only a Necromancer possesses a dark enough heart to see through me Phookan magic an see me as we really am."
The Phooka jumped forward again and was now nose to nose with Quaraun once again. Looking deep into Quaraun's pale icy blue, pink pupiled eyes, searching for the truth behind the illusion.
"But we see no illusion here," Unicorn continued. He hugged Quaraun, pressing his body tight against him, while moving cheek to cheek with the Elf and whispered in his long pointed ear: "Yis what ya seem to be. A strange looking male Elf dressit in wickit funny looking pink female clothes. Tell me the truth Strange One, is ya a Necromancer?"
"Yes, I am a Necromancer," Quaraun admitted reluctantly. He saw no reason to lie at this point. The Phooka had already found him out, it was pointless to try to hide the truth from him.
"Oh, goody! Yis who I thought ya twere. Yis the Pink Necromancer. I has heard so much of ya. Oh what a delight. I has gone captured the Pink Necromancer. Of all the Elves I could have caught."
The Phooka jumped back, much to Quaraun's relief, for he'd rather the Phooka not be aware of how excited the embrace had made him.
The Phooka was now clapping his hands and dancing around the crumbling remains of the ruin's room, positively giddy with delight. Quaraun watched the creature, there wasn't much else he could do.
“Faeries are crazy,” Quaraun muttered.
"Oh, we does has a treat does we not!" Unicorn shrieked insanely. "Oh joy an rapture! We has gone an has got ourselves the Pink Necromancer! Such a delight this is! Yis an evil wizard, oh we will has fun now!"
The Phooka stood beside Quaraun again, this time rubbing his clawed hand over the Moon Elf's chest, stopping to pinch his hard nipples through the thin pink silk.
"It be been so long since we gone an captured an Elf. But oh me dear dying Moses, it been ever so wickit long since we last captured a wizard. And such a horny one. Hard devils to catch. It be a two for one prize. We loves it. How come for did ya not say ya twere a wizard in the first place?"
"No reason to was there? I am not a wizard for hire. I am in a strange town. Which apparently isn’t real and wasn’t here this morning. It is never wise to introduce oneself as a wizard in a place unknown. Not every town is welcoming to wizards, there are many who'd kill a wizard on sight, thanks to the Guild, and there are also many who would take advantage of a wizard should they discover one was nearby. Blackmailing wizards is a common hobby for many. Get us to do their dirty deeds under threat of being turned over to the Guild if we don’t. Wizards tend to be wealthy or have wealthy friends or know where to find lost treasures. I have a pet dragon. Once people find out who I am, first thing they think: ‘Oh, you’re the wizard with a dragon, got you a dragon’s hoard of gold.’ And start plotting to take it. It's become a desperate problem of late, what with the way poverty is spreading among Humans. Do you not keep up illusions to protect your own safety? Why then should I not do the same?"
"Well put. How come for then dids ya introduce youself as a travelling merchant? How come for a merchant, why not a priest or a tailor? Is not the Pink Necromancer also both a priest and a tailor? We assume ya made this get-up yis wearing, 'tis very well done, we congratulate ya on you skill. I remembers ya usit sew, I sees ya still does. Ya were’ne quite so pink last time I saws ya though. The garish make-up, the dozens of ear-rings is also new, as it the nose rings, all the chais between the two… and look at those jewel encrusted gold claws yis wearing? Ya did no used to wear those? And is not a Necromancer svá dark priest? How come for travelling merchant, eh?"
"Because I am a travelling merchant, I just also happen to be a fleshwarper as well. And my father cut the ends of my fingers off, the gold claws protect my hands from further damage."
"Ah, yes. I remember. Ya poor fingers. Bleed for days. Yar father was cruel. It good him dead. But, Ooh! A fleshwarper? Yis a fleshwarper now?"
The Phooka settled back down on the ground in front of Quaraun once again, resting his chin on his hands.
"I is intrigued, the Elf Eater twere a fleshwarper. Ya learned that from him. Yis a deviant one ain't ya? Do tells me of more."
Quaraun dropped his eyes to the ground, he was not proud of what he had become, nor was he overjoyed to talk about it.
"Ooh, we does get the sense that yis not all that evil an Elf is ya? A reluctant Necromancer? A reluctant fleshwarper? There can'na be too many of those around, now can there? Is that what we has here? A Necromantic Elf, seeking Lichdom gainst his will? Oh goody goody gumdrops! Oh, my! Can it truly be? Haha!"
"I said nothing about Liches," Quaraun said, puzzled at the Phooka's mention of Lichdom.
"No, ya did no, did ya? What other reason is there to ah'comin' a fleshwarper, if not to ultimately warp one's own flesh in a ritual to make youself a Lich?"
The Phooka stood up once again, and turned to address his people.
"Do ya has any idea who we has captured? Oh, wonders! Oh, what a joyful day this turned out be." The dark eyed Fae began to clap his hands giddily and dance around Quaraun again.
"Oh goody goody gumdrops! Oh, , my goodness what a delight!"
He turned back to Quaraun, once again giving him a full body bear hug.
"Tell me Elf, has ya a name?" He purred into Quaraun's ear. "Yis the famous idiot, ain't ya? I knews ya twere. Ya changed since I last sees ya. Ya hair is several feet longer then it usit be an ya clothes they is changed. Ya usit wears blue. Slippery, silken, silvery blue."
"What good does my name do at this point. You've already proved I can not escape. Phookas eat their prisoners. What need have you to know the name of your next meal?"
2012 novella release edition cover art
the 30 page short run edition
"I might not eat ya if I likes you name. Ya might be...well be somebody I...er...know....or knew...knew rather wells once. Oh my. Ya see there once twere an Elf, who knew powerful magic, an hims always used his magic for good deeds, but one day a Necromancer came to the little Elf an tricked him into build thirteen wickit powerful magic items...”
“The thirteen genie bottles, used as phylacteries for the Lich Lords. I helped build the Lich Lords.”
“The Necromancer lied to him. Poor stupid little retarded Elf did not has him brain screwed in right.”
“I’m not retarded. Most Elves don’t even know how to read or write. It takes intelligence to become a wizard. Seventy years of my life was spent with the DiJinn learning magic, reading thousands of books in hundreds of languages. I can fluently speak, read, and write practically every single language on this planet. Which is more then I can say for you. Your Elvish is… horrific. Of course, it takes intelligence to learn Elvish. Every one always makes me speak them in their language. You’re just about the only none Elf I’ve ever met who took the trouble to speak to me in my own language, no matter how bad you’re slaughtering, it to hear someone other then myself speak it once in a while.”
“I spent decades learning ya language, sos I could talk to ya.”
“Do you always speak to your meals?”
“Only ones with JellyFish in their heads.”
“Are you are Thullid worshiping cultists?”
“Aye. And I be looking for a long lost Elf. A JellyFish from outer space done gone decided to live in his head and eat most of his brain. Poor little Elf, only born with half a brain to begin with, went absolutely insane, but what else would one do, if him had a JellyFish in hims head, eating hims brain. And then him went an built those phylacteries. Tisk. Tisk. The Elf did no know what hims were going to use them for. And when hims found out the carnage that hims had inadvertently caused, hims coulds no live with himself an hims went insane.”
“I’m not insane. Is that how you kill your meals? By talking them to death?”
“Aye. I is lonely Phooka. Talk to me prisoners before me eats them.”
“Phookas eat their prisoners," Quaraun muttered to himself, while looking around and trying to see if he had overlooked any way out of his predicament.
Unicorn nodded.
"Aye, this is true."
“Have ya resided to give up so quickly? Ya see I twould hate to eat an Insane, half brained, JellyFish infested Elf with so much to live for."
“Fine. You know who I am. Lovely. So doesn’t half the planet. I can’t go any where without every one knowing who I am.”
"You've done what other Fae were unable to do, you tricked me and caught me, you built an illusion that I did not detect, I usually do, and you are holding me in chains I lack the power to break. Chains which I doubt are anything more than pine needles. You are a very powerful illusionist, by far the most powerful Fae I've ever encountered, you are clearly more powerful than me. I see no way of escaping your grasp now that you've caught me..."
"And so ya give up," Unicorn pouted, then kissed Quaraun on the check. "Such a pity. Ya would make a worthy opponent... or ally."
"Ally?" Now Quaraun looked the creature in the eye, seeking the truth. "Why would an Elf accept allegiance to a Faerie of any type, let alone anything as vile as a Phooka?"
"There be that High Elf superiority arrogance agains. It be gonna get ya killed someday. How come for would an Elf ah'comin' anything as vile as a fleshwarper? The evillest of evils, vilest of viles, blackest of blacks, darkest of dark magics. So abhorred that even other evil, vile, black hearted Necromancers fear to dabble in it?"
Quaraun closed his eyes and tried to ignore the closeness of the Dark Fae's warm body pressing hard against his own. The Phooka slid his hands up Quaraun's chest and down his arms as he spoke, with his lips brushing against the Moon Elf's face. The creature's hair smelt of cotton candy, cloves, anise, and gingerbread, a scent familiar to the Elf. The scent of his long dead lover, the candy maker named BoomFuzzy, who had lived in a gingerbread house. It was the smell of the Phooka that was exciting Quaraun.
“Could you please not be so close to me?”
“Does it bother ya?”
“Yes. I don’t like being touched. And your… your...”
“Practically pushing me cock up inside of ya?”
“Yes.”
“Is ya sure ya really wants me to stop?”
“Yes.”
“Ya lie. I knows ya lie. Ya hard cock pressing again me belly, tells ya is quite enjoying where my cock is right now.”
“Could you please stop touching me.”
The Phooka stepped back a few feet and ceased touching Quaraun for a few moments.
“I wonder if I has any candy canes around here?”
“Why do you keep changing subjects?”
“Did I?”
“You’re talking about candy canes now. A minute ago you were talking about fucking me.”
“Ah. Yes. I the confusion. No. I still talking about fucking ya. No better way to fuck an Elf then to ram candy canes up it’s ass.” He paused and glanced at Quaraun’s crotch. “Or it’s dick. Oh my, that’d be so painful. Getting a stick of candy up ya dick to begin with, that alone gonna hurt, just the size difference, but the tingllyies as the mint oil melt off the candy and hits yar flesh. Gonna burn like hell. Quaraun loved it though. He and BoomFuzzy got trapped in a gingerbread house together, during a blizzard. Months alone. Pretty little Elf and sick perverted candy-maker. I used to paint me Elf with chocolate and ram candy canes up hims ass. He loved it.”
“You are not putting a candy cane up my ass or my dick.”
“Ha ha haa! That’s what ya t’inks. Tied up ya can’na do a t’ing to stop me from putting anything I want in any place it fits… or not. Does no nessicarily needs to fit. Can get it in wither it fits or not. Is ya still uncircumcised?”
“What? Why?”
“Can ya imagine all those lovely sensitive nerves in ya foreskin, irritated by peppermint oil?”
“You’re crazy.”
“Aye. And ya is horny.”
The Phooka stood on Quaraun’s feet again, once again pressing his body tight against the Elf’s.
“How long can you go on like this, I wonder?”
“Like what?”
“Me making ya have an erection, not letting ya cum, leaving ya hanging in a tree while I fondle ya privates and ya can’na do anything to stop me, bringing ya almost to release, then stopping and waiting for ya to go flaccid again, than doing it all over again. Sooner or later, ya is bound to start begging me to let ya cum.”
“No I won’t.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Ya sure?”
“Positive.”
“Really?”
“I am both an Elf and a wizard of the DiJinn Order. We Elves aren’t prone to having sex often to begin with and I took a vow of celibacy. I’m a priest for the Sacred Pink JellyFish. Sex is not a part of my life.”
“Aye, but ya only able to do it, by being a hermit and avoiding any t’ings that might excite ya.”
The Phooka reached down and squeezed Quaraun’s testicles as hard as he could, twisting as he squeezed. The poor Elf let out a cry of pain, then grit his teeth and tried not to scream. He also did something the Phooka did not expect, as he pushed his hips forward, as though begging for more. The Phooka let go and watched the Elf squirm as he held in his scream.
“That a fascinating reaction. Most men pull away, not push forward. Ya liked that.”
Quaraun didn’t answer. Part of him was wanting to curl up and die after the way the Phooka had just roughly handled him, and the other half of him was wishing the Phooka would grab him like that again.
“Sooner or later, ya gonna need to cum. By the way ya balls is swollen up right now, my guess is sooner.”
Quaraun closed his eyes and said nothing. He was too focused on the throbbing pain in his scrotum to listen to the Phooka any more.
"Yis not saying a word I saying is ya? Elves who just love their flowers an trees an sunshine an cute fuzzy wuzzy fluffy bunnies. We hates fuzzy wuzzy fluffy bunnies unless theys be made of marshy mallows an wes can eats them. Elves shun the dark arts. Elves abhor Necromancy, an shrink from those attempting to seek Lichdom, especially the fleshwarpers, those who seek Lichdom by faster means. Dids I mention the Elf Eater twere a fleshwarper? I know a thing or two aboot necromancy. How does an Elf seek to ah'comin' a Lich?"
First edition short story cover art of 2009
(the original 13 page short story that appeared on fanfiction.net)
Quaraun said nothing. He dare not speak. He suspected there was more to this Phooka than Unicorn was letting be known. The mention of Liches frightened him. But in spite of that Quaraun put the thought aside for right now, his only thoughts at this moment was how much he was enjoying feel of the Phooka's body pressing tightly against his own. It had been decades since he'd last felt the warmth of another living body against his own. He hadn't realized how much he missed BoomFuzzy, or how much BoomFuzzy's scent aroused him, until this creature that smelled like BoomFuzzy began touching him.
"Aye an yis no desiren to talk aboot is we, eh? Poor pitiful Elf, forced gainst hims will to ah'comin' a Necromancer, because hims is driven to ah'comin' a Lich? Ha! Not many Elves seek Lichdom these days. Ha! Not many Elves around these days. They is dying out. Elves is soon as rare as Phookas, they be. Even we Phookas ain't so foolish enough that we twould try to live forever. Well...most of us. Oooh, but we has other thoughts on our mind, now does we not, Elf? Eh? Yis horny. Ooohh! We likes ya, Elf."
“Ya ain’t gonna talk to me no more are ya?”
Quaraun continued to say nothing.
“Too much pain or too much excitement?”
Unicorn took hold of the Elf’s balls again, gently this time, rolling them lightly between his fingers to watch Quaraun’s reaction. Quaraun moaned and whimpered with excitement and pushed against the Phooka’s hand. Unicorn let go again.
The Phooka stood on the Elf’s toes again, hugging Quaraun, putting his nose against Quaraun’s waiting for the Elf to open his eyes again. Unicorn, was realizing how excited Quaraun had become by his touch, pressed harder against him. Quaraun gasped and opened his eyes again. The Phooka's erection pressed against his own like a log. The Phooka laughed and kissed Quaraun on the lips.
"Ya still like BoomFuzzy. Ya always did. Little sexless Elf gone hides from all sexual t’ings, but never could resist BoomFuzzy. Before this night is through, ya shall share me bed likes a woman," the Dark Faerie whispered into the Elf's ear.
"No, I won't,” Quaraun said while tring to catch his breath.
"Oh, yes, ya will. Ya will, and ya wills enjoy it, because ya never could resist BoomFuzzy."
The Phooka slid his hand down Quaraun's chest, stopping to twist his nipples.
“You're not BoomFuzzy,” Quaraun said, trying to ignore the sensations he was trying desperately not to enjoy.
“Is ya certain of that?”
“You're a Phooka. A trickster.”
“Aye. As twere ya BoomFuzzy.”
“Please stop touching me.”
"Yis enjoying it."
"No, I'm not," Quaraun lied.
“No? I knows ya Elf. Anyone else twere touching ya like this and ya'd have pulled ya Rainbow Wand on them by now. Blewn up thems heid. Not me. Not BoomFuzzy. Ya just gonna stand there and let me touch ya, like ya always did.”
“Please let me go.”
“Ya likes having ya balls slapped around.”
“No I don’t.” This was a lie too. Quaraun most certainly did.
“Yes ya does. I saw it in ya face just then when I grabbed ya. That were no scream of pain ya were holding in, that were a scream of absolute ecstatic delight. Yis were in pure ecstasy just then. Ya like having ya balls played with. Not a lot of men like that. Most shy away from it. Start twisting a man’s balls he clamps his legs together and tried to ya hands off, not throws his legs apart and pushes his hips forward begging for more the way ya just did there. Oh, my, what a wonderful discovery we have just made.”
“Please let me go. I did not mean to disturb you.”
“Ya will stay and continue to enjoy be'an in me presence.”
"No, I won't.”
“No ya will’na stay? Or no ya will’na continue to enjoy it?”
“Just let me go.”
"Yis mine now, Elf. Ya can'na tell me what ya will and will no do, and ya can'na hide what ya does wickit much enjoy."
"No. I will leave and you will do nothing."
Unicorn ignored this and laughed.
“I is a Unicorn and I gots me a sexually repressed virgin Elf tied to a tree and I just discovered he likes having his balls man handled. Ya really t’inks I gonna let ya go now that I know that? Oooh I can has so much fun with ya. I ain’t ever letting ya outta here. And forget the candy canes up ya peehole, I need to find me some rope and weights. I wonder how much I can tie to ya balls before ya really start screaming.”
The rest of this novel can be read here.
Volume 1: The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
Wounded, depressed, and on the run, the Pink Necromancer heads home for Inuvijk, Quebec planning to kill himself upon arriving back at the location of his lover's death, 300 years prior. Sidetracked when the Forest of No Return grows up around him and cuts off his path, Quaraun sidetracks to the coast to by-pass the sentient forest. But a hurricane crashing up the Maine coast sends him fleeing for shelter at an enchanted tavern which suddenly appears out of no where.
Too late Quaraun realizes he's walked into a trap set by an evil Faerie and must survive a night with a sex crazed undead unicorn: The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley himself, King Gwallmaiic, leader of the Lich Lords.
Read Sample Chapters Free Online:
The Elf Eater's Map
*Captured By The Lich Lord (NSFW | 18+)
BedTime Stories For A Lich: ZooLock & The Pixie
An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit
Note that this is from the unedited draft, and not the finished manuscript. It contains many errors, not yet corrected, that are corrected in the published novel. This version was put here unedited, because I use it as part of an editing workshop, so students can see the differences between a 1st draft and it's edited finished product. There are ZERO pages of the finished/edited/final version published novel available free to read online. These unedited sample pages are intended to be used as teaching tools for creative writing students, learning how to edit a novel, showing what parts to change, what parts to remove, what parts to correct, ect. Not seen here, is a worksheet that is handed out at the workshops, which students use to find errors and mark corrections.
Want to see the location this novel is set in?
Follow me as I drive to and
take a walking tour through The Reclaim Blueberry Plains
of the Ross Forest, in
Old Orchard Beach, Maine,
The setting for
Night of The Screaming Unicorn:
This novel was originally written on: 2007 & 2009 & 2012
This page last updated on: April 07, 2017
On Writing The Quaraun Series
World-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Weird-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Building A Magic System In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Wizards vs Witches vs Sorcerers: How are they different?
- Magic Systems and How to Build Them
- Necromancy: How will resurrection affect society as a whole?
- Spell-casting Side Effects of Magic
- Necromancy FAQ - A Real Necromancer Compares Fantasy Necromancy With The Reality
- Colour Magic - Gypsy Style
- Beware of White Men In Gypsy Clothing: Fake Psychic Scams
- Child Sacrifice in Fantasy Novels
Plotting & Writing Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Ernest Hemingway Style of Writing Literary Fiction Used In Epic Fantasy Novels
- Do you write a novel start-to-finish?
- Ideas, Ideas, Ideas (Where Do You Get Them?)
- Should I plan for ending or just keep writing?
- NaNoWriMo Overachievers: How did you do it?
- How Long is 50,000 Words?
- Why Write 50,000 Words In 30 Days?
- How long does it take to hit 1667 words?
- Average Typing Speed
Character Creation In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Writing Sex In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Disabled Characters In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Drug Use In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Horror In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Not sure what the series is about?
Check out
and
Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post
and
Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers
and
How well do I know Quaraun? - Let's find out!
to find out more about the plot and lore of the series.
Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:
- Spirit-Walk Slippers
The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane, on Amazon:
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
Note: there are likely spelling errors on this site, and I am unlikely to see the ... I fix them when I find them, but, there are many issues here...
Note: English is not my first language, Shetlean Scottish is my native language, there are likly spelling and grammar errors, as I do not know American English and am attempting to write it by sounding words out.
Many times that Americans think a word on my site is misspelled, often it is not misspelled, it is just I mixed up languages and wrote it in Scottish without realizing I mixed the Scottish in with the English. Also our grammar is somewhat reversed from English grammar so words that are seeming in the wrong order for American English, is usually because they are in the correct order for Scottish and I either put English words in Scottish order by mistake or was unaware English put them in a different order then Scottish does.
For those unaware, Scottish Shetlean looks like this:
American English to Scottish:
a bit (piece) = a party --- EXAMPLE: "And some know a bit of Latin " > "And somme kan of latyn a party "
a long distance from = A piece fae
a piece of = the bit --- EXAMPLE: "The duck ate a piece of bread " > "The deuk ett the bit breid "
about the banks (on the shore/at the beach) = aboot da banks
accomplishments = kunnandi
After = Back o --- EXAMPLE: " After Halloween" > "Back o Hallomas "
alive (living) = kvikr
Always on the move = Never aff o da go
am I not = amn't I --- EXAMPLE: "Am I not invited? " > "I amn't invited? or Amn't I invited?"
are = is --- EXAMPLE: "Are you going soon?" > "Is ya to be going soon?"
autumn = dah haihst
belong to = fylgja
best = bettah moost
betray (verb) = svíkja
bewildered = villhyggjandi
building = biggin up --- EXAMPLE: "building confidence in everyday use " > " biggin up confidence in ivvryday øs "
built = builded --- EXAMPLE: "He built a new porch." > "Hims builded a new porch."
cast a spell = hoodooed
cat = kat (sounds like "caught") --- EXAMPLE: "Is it an orange cat?" > "Be he a o'jinn kat?"
child = bairn
church = kirk
color = colour
danger = hœttr
daren't = darena
daring = djarfr
dark = dökk
dark elf = Dökkálfr
dark-elves = Døkkálfar
darker = dökká
do you agree = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "That's a fine looking woman, do you agree?" > "Dair's ah right bonnie lass, eh?"
do you want to come too = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "I'm going to the store, do you want to come with me?" > "Me go to shope, eh?"
each = eche --- EXAMPLE: "Which each person can understand " > "That kan eche man understonde "
educated = lered --- EXAMPLE: "Both among the educated and the uneducated " > "As wel among lered as lewed "
elf = Alfr
Elf = Álfr
Elf Home = Álfheimr
Elf World = Álfheimr
elf-advice = Ælfred
elf-beautiful = ælfscyne
elf-friend = Ælfwine
elf-guardian (female) = Ælfwaru
elf-guardian (male) = Ælfweard
elf-powerful = Ælfric
everyday = ivvryday
eyelids = eye ledes --- EXAMPLE: "He closed his eyelids." > "Hims did shut hims eye ledes"
fair = faire --- EXAMPLE: "Going to the fair." > "Done gone went to the faire."
feild = felde --- EXAMPLE: "Standing in the feild." > "Stoodt in thems felde."
further = ferther --- EXAMPLE: "I looked further." > "I dids lokid ferther."
green = grene --- EXAMPLE: "Look at the green hedges and woods." > "Look see at thems heigges and holtz so grene."
handsome = braw --- EXAMPLE: "He is very handsome " > "Him wicked braw "
have faith = trúa
Have no doubts about our doing it = Nae faer o wis
Have no liking for this. = Hae nae brou o this.
have not = ain't
He knows how many beans make five. = He kens the laid frae the croun o the causey.
He knows which side his bread is buttered on. = He kens whilk side his bannock's buttert on.
Head for = Mak wye for
head rope in fishing nets and lines = baak
head to head = Be at the knag and the widdie
horse fly = klegsie
I = Me
I Think = Me thinks --- EXAMPLE: "I think we're late. " > "Me thinks that we is late. "
I wish you well for the future = Lang may yer lum reek (translation: Long may your chimney smoke)
idiot = eejit --- EXAMPLE: "You idiot." > "Ya eejit."
idiot = numpty
if = iffy or yif--- EXAMPLE: "If you don't mind..." > "Iffy yas does no care mind...."; "If you'll stay with me long enough = "Yif ye so longe with me wil dwelle". "
I'll be even with you = A'll see day aboot wi ye
know = ken
looked = lokid
looked = lokid --- EXAMPLE: "I looked up." > "I lifte up me eye ledes and lokid ferther."
magic = hoodoo
naked = nøkkviðr
needle = bodkin
neither = nouther --- EXAMPLE: "Who know neither Latin nor French " > "That kan nouther latyn ne frensch "
No = Nay --- EXAMPLE: "No, I don't think so. " > "Nay, me thinks not. "
Nobody knew = not-knew nobody
Noontide = Da heicht o da day
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "Did you meet the new family next door?" > "Dids ya gets a chance to stop by and meets with thems new folk that move-ed in down yawn there next doors to ya, eh?"
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "He went to Rite-Aid to pick up his prescription" > "Hims did go to that yawn there new fangled store the new folks call that Rite Aid place, to gets himself some of thems there pills what the doctor gone and tells him to take each morning, a-yep, hims did."
old = olde --- EXAMPLE: "But educated and uneducated, old and young " > "Bot lered and lewed olde and yonge "
orange = o'jinn
out = oot --- EXAMPLE: "The cat wants to go out." > "The kat he do wants oot."
outside = oot dair
people = fokk --- EXAMPLE: "the people of Shetland " > "Shetland fokk "
people = folke --- EXAMPLE: "Look at all those people." > "Lookie at all thems folke."
poorly = febelly --- EXAMPLE: "Who know French very poorly " > "That kan frensch ful febelly "
Recognising = Recognisin --- EXAMPLE: "Recognising the bilingual nature of Shaetlan speakers " > "Recognisin da wye at Shaetlan spaekers is bilingual "
shield = skjoldr
Since = For --- EXAMPLE: "Since that is your native language " > "For that is youre kynde langage "
tell = telle --- EXAMPLE: "I'll tell you in English " > "In englysch tonge I schal you telle "
the = da, de, or is not used at all --- EXAMPLE: "I went to the store" > "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to shoppe"
them = dem, dem dair --- EXAMPLE: "I went with them" > "Me goes wit dem dair"
there = dair --- EXAMPLE: "I want those potatoes" > "Me be wanting dem dair tatetas."
they = dey
To where = whither --- EXAMPLE: ""Where you go, I will go." " > ""Whither thou goest, I'll go."
understand = understonde
understand = understonden --- EXAMPLE: "Some understand English " > "And somme understonden englysch "
very = wicked --- EXAMPLE: "very good" > "wicked good"; "very bad" > "wicked bad"; "very cold" > "wicked cold"
Where = Whither --- EXAMPLE: "Where is the restroom? " > "Whither is the privy?"
Yes = Yea or Aye --- EXAMPLE: "Yes, I think so. " > "Yea, me thinks so. " or "Aye, me thinks so. "
For anyone actually interested in learning my native language, the Scottish government has THIS listed as the official dictionary of our people: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/61d7352954b7fd1c9dbdfef4/t/65ddb2749d5e0541a01009c0/1709027964496/Spaektionary_2024feb.pdf
The Scottish government provides this document to show our language in use: https://www.shetland.uhi.ac.uk/t4-media/one-web/uhi-shetland-images-and-documents/documents-/shaetlan/Shaetlan-Language-Plan-2022-Shaetlan.pdf
More information about our language can be found on this website: https://www.iheardee.com which is written in my native language.
However, there is also other reasons why words might be misspelled, or why I might not understand someone when they speak to me.
My grandmother Helen Ricker Allen, was from Unst, Shetland, Scotland, and she the one who raised me. She taught me to read and write, but it was Shetlain that she taught me. She died when I was 8 years old, and I was locked in a woodshed after her furneral, I escaped the woodshed 27 years later at age 31, and have been trying to learn how to speak and write English since then.
It is a very great struggle.
At age 37 I took remidial reading and speaking classes at Southern Maine Community College, but we are Gypsies and Gypsy men do not allow us Gypsy women to have education, and so, while at college, on November 14, 2013, I was beaten with a golf club, while I was 8 months pregnet, breaking my spine, hips, and knees, killing my baby and leaving me quardepaleic since.
Now my primary focus these past 13 years has been on relearning to use my hand so I could type... as of 2023, I have regained the use of my right thumb, and first two right fingers, and after 10 years offline, I am back online due to I can use three finguers.
I never went to school, so I do not know maths and numbers and sciences, and I do not know what else would have been taught to me in school. We are Scottish Gypsies and Gypsy culture does not allow females to go to school. Being born female was already a great sin, but my grandmother took great risk in teaching me reading and writing. At 4 years old I was punished by my Uncle Bruce for knowing how to read, by being beaten in the face with a cinder block brick, that broke my right jaw and left me with garbaled near-mute spoken words ever since.
Because no one ever spoke words to be face to face from he time I was 8 years old until I was 37 years old (I escaped the room at age 27, but did not start college until 37), I have no training in how to vocally sound out or speak the words I write or read. I can read words, but I do not know how to sound out or say those words. I can write words, but I do not know how to match the written word against the spoken word. I struggle to associate spoken words at all, or make them match up with writen words.
Esentially, written words and spoken words are two completly seperate languages in my brain, and I have difficulty understanding spoken words.
If you say a sentance to me with your mouth, chances are very high I will have ZERO understanding of what you said and I will not be able to ander you.
However, if you WRITE down that exact same sentabnce, I can understand you and can type a written responce to you.
My doctors tell me this is a side effect of extreme isolation and neglect and lack of human contact during my toddler, childhood, teen, and young adult years, and that my brain never deveoloped to comprehend spoken vocal words due to no one ever speaking to me in over three decades of the first half of my life.
While I can read and write, American English (somewhat) I do no know how words are sounded out, what they are supposed to sound like. I readand write by shape recognition, not by sound/vocal recognition, so when reading and writing I do no "hear the words in my head" as I am told most people do when they read and write. In other words... I see "c a t" and think "c-a-t" I do not think "cat" nor do I "see" an image of a cat, no do I "hear" the word cat spoken. I'm told that this is very rare and that most people read and write by sounding out the words and linking them to visual mind images, while hearing the sound of the word in their head. I neiher hear words in my head no see images of things in my head. I'm told this is what makes me both a speed reader and speed writer, because I'm not tripped up by hear sounds or seeing images in my head like nomal people would be doing... however, I'm also told this is why my spelling and grammar are very poor, because my brain is not hear the sounds of the words or seeing visual images of the objects the words represent, so my mind also does not register spelling and grammer errors at all.
As I was only let out of the woodshed on Sundays to go to the Cape Elezabeth Ward Church of the August Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I was never allowed to go to school or hospital either. No adults ever talked to me because I was evil for comitted the sin of being born female, so I never learned how to speak properly and do not know how to sound out words to say them.
I was 42 years old, in 2016 when, while having an MRI for my spine, the doctors found out my speak issue was caused by a broken jaw as a toddler that was healed wrong because not being allowed to go to doctors. I had surgury to fix that, and since 2016 have been trying to learn how to use my jaw and touge so I can speak vocal words now.
Since 2023 my primary focus shifted to relearning to walk. I can now, in 2026, sit up for 2 or 3 hours a day, and can sand with a cane for a few minutes, and can walk for around five thousand feet in 2 to 3 segments a day, with the help of pushing my wheelchair like a walker.
As of 2026, with a slight return to using my fingers and legs, I am once again focused on trying to learn the American English, but I live in mortal fear of my uncles and male cousins, as they are so hateful of allowing me to have education.
have no one to help me to know if I am doing words correctly, and as such, I have no way of knowing if there are spelling and grammar errors, but I asume there are, and I fix them when I learn them, but I do not know what I do not know and spelling American words is a thing I do bnot know.
I have Low Fucntioning Kanner's Syndrom, also known as "RainMan Type of Autism" aka REAL and ACTUAL Autism, not to be confused with Aspergers, High Functioning Autism, or and of thr 861 illnesses on the Autism Spectrum. An Autism Spectrum Disorder is an illness that has symptoms similar to Autism but IS NOT Autism. If you have an Autism Spectrum Disorder, it LITERALLY MEANS you do NOT have Autism.
I am medically diagnosed as "kanner's syndrome, actual autism, the rainman type, profoundly retarded autistic savant, with a general IQ of 73, and an writing IQ of 221" but they added that they did not know how to properly diagnose me as I am "technically a feral child" and they don't know "how much is the autism, and how much is simple horrific levels of abuse and neglect induced post traumatic stress disorder that will go away with proper socilization".
It means I know how to write, I can write a lot, and it is next to impossible for you to teach me how to do literally anythig else because my brain only knows how to write and doesn;t know how to do anything else..
There's a reason, when I do book signings, people are quick to say: "Okay, what's the joke? why is this stupid retard here? where's the real author? I know this retard isn't the author. where are you hiding the author, why is this fucking retard here"
The end result is, I have near zero social interaction... my 3 years in college was the ONLY face to face interaction I have ever had with humans in my entire life, and I struggle deeply to understand MOST words used by MOST people when they ask me question. And so I suffer from a huge lack of understanding many words people say to me, how to translate those words into spelling, and how to translate what it is that has been said.
The fact remains hat until there exists a human on this planet who is willing to sit down and teach me what words spoken line up with and match what words written, this deficent is unlily to improve. But the fact also remains, that I am simply far too profoundly retarded for anyone to even try to make any attempt at all even to speak a friendly "hgelloe" or "good morning" when passing me on the street, so I have lost all hope of anyone ever either being my friend, being willing to teach me how to match spoken words to written words, or how to speak to other humans.
- Official Home Page Of Wendy C Allen: Old Orchard Beach & Biddeford, Maine's Autistic Artist, Doll Designer, Art Car Builder, and Dark Fantasy MPreg Author
- A Short Fiction Story
- An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
- The Quaraun Series Prologue
- Quaraun Pink Necromancer Info 2
- Index of Pink Necromancer Fiction on Space Dock 13 (EelKat.com)
- Captured By The Lich Lord | The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.
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Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....
... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.
While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.
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My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since. |
The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.
Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.
Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.
Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.
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The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.  If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.
Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.
Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.
Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.
In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.
Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.
But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.
I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.
Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.
Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.
I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.
My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.
Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Important:
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There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
If you encounter a page which asks for a password, no, you can not request access. There are over 2k pages of this website set to password access, due to the ongoing FBI investigation into my son's murder. If you are a police officer authorized access these pages but do not have the passwords, let me know, I will deliver the passwords to the specific pages you are allowed to access, to you via the Portland FBI office and you can pick them up from the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation.
Pages where you can find out more information on that:
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IMPORTANT NOTE: There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
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Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) Yes, I am aware there are a lot of spelling errors on this site. No, I likely will not be fixing most of them. I have been quadriplegia/paralyzed arms and legs since November 14, 2013; As of 2026, I have regained use of two fully functional fingers on my right hand, and only stiff limited movement of all remained eight fingers. This causes most of the typos and spelling errors as my near-dead pinky and ring fingers tend to drag over the other letters on the keyboard. Attempts to correct errors, often causes more errors for the same reason. Much of my writing is also speech to text, but I have "profound low functioning, non-verbal kanner's syndrome aka autism aka the rainman type" (that is what the medical diagnosis called it), I have the medically diagnosed retarded type of autism, that medical doctors mean when they say "real and actual autism", I do not have the cool trend self diagnoses tiktok type of "autism". What this means is, in spite of five decades of trying, I have very limited vocal speaking abilities and a lower then average vocabulary, that leaves my speaking ability around the level of a 4 or 5 year old child; I do not know math or money or clocks and. I also, was raised by a Shetland Scottish Grandmother (Helen Ricker Allen) until her death when I was 8 years old, and she did not speak American, she spoke Shetland/Scottish, Shetlandic, which is a Nordic language, different from Scotts Language, not related to Gaelic which is what many Scottish speak, and while classified as a type of Scottish English is is considered "Olde medieval Norse" dialect of Scottish English and spoken by fewer then two thousand people as of 2026. It is the language of Scottish Travelling Gypsies, which is what we racial are. I was 31 years old first time I ever heard American English, and only started to learn American English at 42 years old. Right now in 2026 at 51 years old, I am able to speak American English on around the level of an 8 year old child, and greatly do not understand over 90% of American words, American slang, and American media references. What this means is, OFTEN words you think are spellt wrong (like color vs colour, or traveling vs travelling, are in fact NOT spelt wrong, because I use Scottish spellings) and often when I hear an American word, I spell it phonetically because I do not know the correct American spelling. Likewise we Scottish do not have words like my or your, and so say me and you, in places where Americans would say my and your. I also use Scottish word meanings, not American word meanings, for example Unicorn means a blood thirsty flesheating shapeshifting sea creature that comes on land and pretends to be a wounded horse to lure in humans to eat, it can only be captured by a virgin. But when I say Unicorn, a word I frequently use, because I write Unicorn folkloric short stories... I find that most Americans connect Unicorns to children's cartoons, gay pride, or swinging sex lives... I struggle to understand who in their right mind thought the most bloodthirsty monster of Scotland folklore was good fodder for children's cartoons or "sex positive" mascots, me thinks Americans need to brush up on the lore of Unicorns using their horns as sword to stabbed people's eyes out, while gallopping through swamps with rows of bloody Human heads hanging from their backs via braids made of Human entrails... really, why did Americans thinks a monster like a Unicorn was fit for children's cartoons or sex positivity? Americans is weird. All this to say... speech to text software, struggles badly with my thick Shetland accent, my slurred Autism speech impediment, and causes additional misspellings and typos because it can not figure out what words I am trying to say. And while I could take the time time to run all of it through a spell checker, that does require better hand mobility then I have, to copy the text from one program to the next and manually click each word, with finger mobility that I simply do not have, but also, most of my time is spent in trying to relearn to walk, and if you are local, you've probably seen this as I'm a stubborn bitch who refused to accept the doctor disnosis that I will never walk again, so, I walk around the block every day pushing my wheelchair, refusing to sit in my wheelchair, and... ...it's taking me 13 years to do it, but, I'm not actually able to stand up and make it all the way around the block now, and my focus on trying to relearn to walk is far more important to me, then catering to your pampered arse by fixing spelling errors, when there are far bigger problems to worry about in life, the spelling errors made by a quadriplegic who is typing this with her only two functioning fingers. Also, in recent years, I've watched the internet devolve into a mindless clusterfuck of ChatGPT written everything. Everyone sounds the same online these days, because no writes their own work anymore. Every website out there has become a carbon copy of each other, because they are all be written by ChatGPT now. I think ChatGPT makes a funny thing to chat with in your spare time, so you can laugh at the hilarity of how inaccurate it's responses are... but I am horrified that people are using AI for serious writing, writing they publish and try to pass off as their own. We live in a society where people people are forgetting how write. Heck I can read and write cursive, calligraphy, italic, short hand, and editor's marks, also edit my books by hand diagraming every sentence, and that... start walking around your neighbourhood and ask anyone under 30 if they sentence diagraming IS, let alone how to do it. So yes, I CAN spell check, and no I don't, for anything but my novels and short story collections, I spell check when it matters... and this is a website, not a printed book... but also, I am just getting so damn fucking fed up with endless AI writing online, so, no, I'm not going to fix errors and typos on my website, and you can bitch about that all you want (yes, I do get your messages, I just don't answer anyone in private) but, honey, maybe instead of bitching over my spelling errors, be thankful is still at least one website on the internet that still being written by a Human now in 2026 when ChatGPT writes over 70% of all posts online. |
Looking for my annual NaNoWriMo Prompts and Dares? I've been publishing these every year since 2004!
 The Park Bench Method of Writing The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane: Paperpacks & Hardcover Editions on Amazon:
Not sure what the series is about? Check out and Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post and Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers and How well do I know Quaraun? - Let's find out! to find out more about the plot and lore of the series. Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:
Or if after reading those, you still are looking for more free to read stories, there are over three thousand of them on this site, too many to list here, but here a few dozen to get you started... ...you can just jump in and try reading some of the free to read online stories first before committing to buying the books:
Hmmm... soooo... I was making the above list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here, and adding it into the footer of my site, here as you can see, which loads on every page, and then I realized... wait... there are over two thousand Pink Necromancer stories up free to read on my website, I can't put two thousand links on every single page! Whoops! LOL! So, now I'm putting list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here on this page instead and just link that page to the footer instead. But also I'll just leave some of the links in the footer, as you can see above.
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
- Official Home Page Of Wendy C Allen: Old Orchard Beach & Biddeford, Maine's Autistic Artist, Doll Designer, Art Car Builder, and Dark Fantasy MPreg Author
- A Short Fiction Story
- An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
- The Quaraun Series Prologue
- Quaraun Pink Necromancer Info 2
- Index of Pink Necromancer Fiction on Space Dock 13 (EelKat.com)
- Captured By The Lich Lord | The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
The Space Dock 13 WebRing
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Yes, this website (founded in 1996) is old enough to have WebRings on it, and they are still in use.
Don't know what a WebRing is?
They were how we webmasters used to get traffic to our websites before the invention of search engines (aka before Jeeves, DogPile, Yahoo. Google, Bing, or the rest existed). In their simplest form a WebRing is an html code that rotates link displays. In their more advanced form they are java scripts that give random results. Each ring had three active links titled "Previous", "Random", and "Next", clicking any of the 3 links would take you to the next website in the ring.
Web Rings are the REASON the internet was called "the world wide web". To use them, each webmaster submitted their site to the ring, a single code held 100 websites, and codes could be stacked to hold 100 code sets (or 10,000 links to 10,000 websites), each web master in the list, would then place the code in the footer of their website.
This created the SPIDER WEB that was the literal WEB OF LINKS that gave the internet it's name "World Wide Web" and is WHY websites are CALLED "web sites". And technically, your site is not a WEB site unless it is connected to a WEBRing, likewise you technically are not a WEBMaster if you do not build WEBrings links for you WEBsite to connect to the WEB.
Unfortunately, most knowledge of WebRings, and whi sites were called WEBsites and sites on the WEB were called the World Wide Web, vanished from the internet in 2014 when the official WebRing.org company who managed 90%+ of the internet's WebRings went out of business after the infamous Google Panda 2013 bot attack that delisted ALL websites from the Google Index if they contained a WebRing of links to other websites in it's footer.
And while most sites abandoned the use of WebRing Codes on their sites, Space Dock 13 did not. The Space Dock 13 WebRing remains active, now 28 years after it's creation. Over the decades however, one by one all the other websites in the ring have gone off line, and as they did, I replaced the url with a link to a page of my own website (as this is a java code - it updated on every website without the others needing to change anything). Today in 2026, eelkat.com is the last remaining website in the ring, and now all 10k links go only to pages on eelkat.com, no longer sending you to other websites.
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- Official Home Page Of Wendy C Allen: Old Orchard Beach & Biddeford, Maine's Autistic Artist, Doll Designer, Art Car Builder, and Dark Fantasy MPreg Author
- A Short Fiction Story
- An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
- The Quaraun Series Prologue
- Quaraun Pink Necromancer Info 2
- Index of Pink Necromancer Fiction on Space Dock 13 (EelKat.com)
- Captured By The Lich Lord | The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
The Park Bench Method of Writing
IMPORTANT NOTE:
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
Want even more writing prompts?
Do you have information about my son's murder and need the FBI contact information:
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322
If anyone contacts you saying 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, is for sale, know that they are lying to you... it is my land, and it has been in my family since 1531... and the ONLY person whom has EVER gone around saying it is for sale, is a woman who the FBI believes to be the same woman who murdered my son.
My son is buried here, and the FBI believes she is trying to buy my land in order to destroy his grave and destroy evidence of his murder.
Since my son's murder November 14, 2013, every year dozens of real estate agent show up all with a story of a female developer who is offering them MILLIONS of dollars for my lot of land that is only 1/4 of an acre and is not big enough to develop.
When shown police sketches of my son's murderer, the real estate agents say "Yes, that's the woman who hired me to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine", but then the woman disappears and the real estate agents never hear from her again... all contact information she gave them turns out to be fake.
The woman who murdered my son, is DESPERATELY trying to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... this is the woman to watch out for... and this is what she did:
Looking to find out more about my son's murder, that information is on these pages:
Answering the questions:
Can you give me links to the news reports of your son's murder?
and
Why can't I find any news reports about this?
Maine has well over a thousand murder cases that have never been in the news.
I found this out after my son was murdered November 2013, and a year later I found out it had never been in the news, even though I was hounded for weeks by news people. I went to each of the over a dozen TV stations and newspapers whom had showed up at the hospital and asked why they had never published any report after all the trouble they had gone through to (in some cases illegally) het into the hospital to interview me.
in every case they said some version of "well, it just wasn't news worthy, there was nothing we could use to get views". Really? These were big news stations, channel 13, 6, 8, Portland Press Herald, Bangor Daily...
What exactly was it they claimed was "not news worthy"?
I'll tell you.
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. At Southern Maine Community College in the parking lot of The Buglight Art Studio beside the Spring Point Lighthouse.
I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Oh yeah, and I've been quadriplegic for 13 years.
oh yeah one more thing, same trio, they also found out where i lived in Old Orchard Beach and drove a backhoe over my house as well.
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146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine... July 4, 2013 vs August 8, 2013 |
I have been homeless and quadriplegic for 13 years, and right now it's just a few weeks away from both my son's 14th birthday and the 14th anniversary of the day he was murdered, both of which happened the same day.
Explain to me what about any of that is "not newsworthy"?
I did find out WHY it was deemed not newsworthy. "it would negatively impact tourism" was their reason. The College at Fort Prebble is a tourist destination. The lighthouse at the college is a tourist destination. My house on Portland ave is situated on the primary road to the beach that is a tourist destination.
The news reporters explained to me that, they risked losing their jobs if they publicised "negative news" occurring in these sorts of tourist destination spots.
My son's murder wasn't in the news, because it might cause tourists to stop visiting that lighthouse. That was the reason the reporters gave me.
How often are there things not being reported on just so businesses don't lose tourist money?
How often does this happen? A lot, I've since found out. In trying to find other mothers of murdered children to interact with... I found five others JUST in Old Orchard Beach, whom the murders were not in the news, and all of them happened after my son's murder. I found 2 such mothers in Scarbourogh, their children's murders not in the news. I found over a dozen more in the Bar Harbore area, also all not in the news.
It's a very disturbing trend here in Maine, one that I never would have found out about had my own son not been murdered.
One thing's very clear: in Maine you can get away with murdering a child, if you do it in a big tourist location, because news stations REFUSE to report any crime occurring in tourist locations.
Fuck torists.
I don't give a shit about your precious tourist money.
My son was murdered and I want his killer found... and I am VERY displeased with the deplorable way news stations try to bury child murders in Maine, just to appease tourist funded businesses.
And if you're one of those lunatic jackass bullshitting alien abduction UFO freaks, looking for haunted cars, Stephen King, cryptids, or EBEs, first off, you can go fuck yourselves. I am so damned sick of you conspiracy brained motherfuckers harassing my family and turning my son's murder case into a circus of you psycho deranged bullshit. Here's some pages for you:
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