Quaraun The Insane:
Volume 1:  
The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
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.

The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit

By Wendy C Allen

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:

@eelkat #etiole #homelesspeople #homelessness #homelessinmaine #homeless #oldorchardbeach #maine #forest #leanto #homelesslivesmatter #homelessman #den #hermit #mainehermit #mainemountainman #mountainmen #mainelife #mainelifestyle #mainehomeless #homelesscommunity #homelesscrisis #homelessveteran #homelessveteranawareness #homelessawareness #homelesselder #homelesselderly ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

@eelkat 1964 #Dodge 330 that people call "Goldeneagle" or "world's most haunted car" #maine #artcar #volvo #antiquecars ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

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: The introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series.

If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters: BoomFuzzy's Chowder Dilemma If your ass ain’t freezing or your brains ain’t scrambled, you’re ain’t really trying A Very Important Clump of Grass The Washer Woman & The Fae Absinthe Slushies: An Ode to Frozen Green Fairy Wine Bone Dice Excited For The New Baby Zwodder: A Drowsy Stupid State of Mind Pink Sheep, Cheesy Burritos, and The Grim Reality of Zombies Open Grave The Phooka's Dragon School The Moon Goddess Laughs From The Rooftops The Jar of Pickled Toes The Book Burning Maggots, a You Can't Spell Hatred Without Red Hats A Day In The Life of a Bumbling Necromancer The Three-Seventeen Pee Expedition

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.

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.1: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.2: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.3: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.4: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.5: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

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:

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!

1. 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.

@eelkat part 9 of 10 #dogwalk around the block (Maine st, Elm st, South street, Bradbury st) #Biddeford #Maine #night #fbiinvestigation #truecrimetiktok ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

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. @eelkat part 7 of 10 #dogwalk around the block (Maine st, Elm st, St Mary's, Dunkin, South street, Bradbury st) #Biddeford #Maine #night #plannedparenthood ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author 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.

@eelkat part 4 of 10 #dogwalk around the block (Maine st, Elm st, St Mary's, Dunkin, South street, Bradbury st) #Biddeford #Maine #night #library ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author 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
An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit

The Night of The Screaming Unicorn
An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit

The fog had risen and was now wafting into the tower bedroom through the glassless window. The fog was icy cold and left trails of frost trailing over the stone walls. The Phooka shivered.

"Tis strange, how the fog reached so high," he said.

"What do you mean?" Quaraun asked.

"The fog never rises up high enough to reach the tower. And it is so cauld," commented the Phooka. "How odd for this time of year."

"This cold is out of season?"

"Oh yes, completely." The Phooka ran his hands across the stone wall. "And feel the ice crystals on the wall, I did has never known it did that a'forah, not even in the dead of winter. This is an unnatural frost. Strong magic created it. Was it ya? Pale icy wizard Elf from the North. Dids ya did this?"

"No, I didn't do this." Quaraun ran to the window. "It looks like a Lich's frost."

"A Lich's frost?"

"The Lich are cold, they turn everything they touch to ice. The land turns to ice before them as they travel. There is a Lich here. You must tell your people run and scatter, quickly."

"Me folks?"

"Yes."

"How comes that, eh?"

"It's a Lich! If you want your people to live, do it now."

"A Lich? Here in me forest? Are ya sure?"

2016 extended Edition epic leangth novel cover art

300 page epic novel mass market release

"Would you know a Lich if you saw one? Have you ever seen a Lich before?"

"There be never been a Lich in these parts a'forah, not once, not ever, at least, I did has not seen one." For the first time, the Phooka looked scared.

"We must get out of the tower."

"But the tower is safe."

"Do ya see that ice? Does it look like the tower is safe to ya? Nothing is safe from a Lich."

"No, I cannot see the ice...I...we is..."

"What?" It troubled Quaraun, how absolutely terrified the Phooka looked. "This is your forest, think, is there any place else to hide?"

"The caves, at the bottom of the cliffs, but ya can only get in them at low tide."

"The Lich will have frozen the surface of the ocean."

"Aye. Terribly cauld creatures they is, freeze everything they touch."

"Then what do we do?"

"We run." 

“I can't run.”

“No? Too arrogant for it? Have to have ya sveinns run for ya?”

“No. I...” Quaraun hesitated. He didn't want to tell the Phooka he was wounded.

The Phooka did not wait for the Elf to think of an answer. Unicorn grabbed Quaraun's arm and dragged him out of the room and down the stairs. Unfortunately this action, pulled at the muscles in his shoulder, reacting painful with the sore muscles in his back, side, and hip, increasing his levels of pain. The Elf was so flustered, frightened, and confused by what was going on that he made no protest and allowed himself to be dragged off by the Phooka.

"Where are your people?" Quaraun asked the Phooka.

"I do not know. Does not care either. There is no time to find them, the Lich is already upon us. We must go now."

The howls and screams of the other Phookas, echoed through the woods, sending chills through Quaraun.

"Where are we going?"

The Phooka did not answer, he just continued to run, dragging the perplexed Elf with him. The miss matched pair went deeper and deeper into the forest. Quaraun was able to wrench his hand out of the Phooka's grasp and stopped running to catch his breath. Unicorn stopped to watch the tired Elf.

2014 novel Edition Cover Art

first mass market release 130 page short novel edition

"Where exactly is it we are going?" Quaraun asked the Phooka.

"We is going to the marsh portal."

"The what? What is that exactly?"

"It be a place which will protect us from the Lich fiend. There is an oubliette in the marsh."

"A marsh? Why do we want to go there?"

"To the oubliette."

"An oubliette? What is there an oubliette doing out here in the woods?"

"There twere a castle here once, ya saw the ruins. Below its dungeons twere a tunnel, leading to a cave, deep inside the mountain, at its heart an oubliette. It be cloistered, shrouded somehow, auncient magic I does not know, but it is so well protected that the Lich can not get inside it, not even the most powerful of the Lich Lords cannot penetrate it's shield."

The Phooka grabbed the Elf's arm again and ran through the ruins, till they came to the stairway leading to the dungeons, leading to the tunnels which he had described. Quaraun would have liked to stop and look around this place, for it did, as the Phooka suggested, reeked of strong ancient magic. They continued downward into the ever descending tunnels, until they eventually arrived at a gaping black hole in the ground. The hole was small, only a few feet across. It appeared to be nothing more then a very old abandoned well, that had long ago been grown over with vines and weeds.

"The Oubliette," said the Phooka, pointing to the pit.

"You plan to go down there?"

"Aye."

"How deep is it?"

"I know not."

"It is dark. I can't see the bottom. How do you plan to get down?"

"Just jump."

"Jump?"

"Yeah."

"It looks formidable."

"It is, but it is safe."

"It doesn't feel safe. Dark magic is strong here. Very strong. This place is heavily guarded by a myriad of powerful spells. A lot of them. Made by a lot of different wizards. Several evil sorcerers guarded this hole with a lot of spells. I have never felt such strong magic before." 

"Aye. I know. That be why it is safe."

"How do we get past the magic?"

"Yis a Necromancer."

"It would take me days to unlock this, there are so many spells cast on it."

"Ah. Well, it required the spell caster who cast the spells to unlock them temporarily and then lock them back up agains once we is inside."

Quaraun wasn't listening. He never was. Quaraun had an exceptionally short attention span. He rarely listened to anyone past the first sentence and rather then hear what they say started having inner dialogues with himself about anything and everything other then the subject at hand. He had a difficult time paying attention to anything anyone said to him. 

Paying attention, being aware of his surrounding, and listening to others were all very poor skills for Quaraun. It did result in his having been caught in traps multiple times in the past. He had the intelligence and skills to identify magic traps, but he was too trusting of most people he met and wasn't overly inclined to suspect anyone of doing anything to hurt him, until after they'd already captured him and it was too late to get away. While he was the world's most powerful wizard, and no spell caster could match his skill, he was also probably the world's most stupid and innocently, naive wizard. He saw the good in everyone and never thought to look for the evil, not even in a Phooka, or a Lich, not even after all the times in his life that he had been captured by a Phooka. Because Phookas were shape shifters it also never occurred to him that in all the years of being captured by Phookas over and over again, he might possibly have only ever been captured by one single solitary Phooka that had taking a liking to tormenting the poor stupid Elf, simply because he knew he could.

Quaraun had spent decades hunting down The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, leader of the Lich Lords, and a Phooka, who had in life been Quaraun's lover, a candy-making Necromancer, named BoomFuzzy. The very Necromancer who had taught Quaraun the art of Necromancy. But that was 300 years ago. BoomFuzzy had been dead for centuries and years of being alone had not been good on the Elf's mind. Elves were communal creatures, living in large groups, their minds and souls connected by a mystical bound. The bond once broken, could send serving Elves down the road of madness. Poor Quaraun, had not only lost his family and his community, but every last member of his entire race. He now lived completely alone in his head, the way Humans did, and it was slowly driving him mad. In an attempt to alleviate the immense loneness, Quaraun had bound his soul to the soul of BoomFuzzy. But BoomFuzzy was a Faerie, a Phooka, and absolutely insane and Quaraun had been ill equipped mentally to handle his mind and soul being linked to the wild scatterbrained emotions of a feral Fae.

An Elf feels emotions on a very different level, much more subdued, intellectual level, and thus to other beings, the Elves appeared to have no outward emotions at all. They did not laugh. They did not cry. They did not smile. Faeries on the other hand, wore their emotions on their sleeves and appeared to other beings as being absolutely psychotic with how they were none stop bundles of screaming, laughing, and crying, often all at once. For an Elf to bind his soul to a Faerie was unheard of. It just wasn't done, but Quaraun had done it. But the last thing Quaraun had expect was for the Faerie to die.

Something happened to Quaraun's mind the day BoomFuzzy died. Quaraun in his, not thinking things through, had left his Fae lover, not intending to leave forever, fully planning to come back, but the Fae with it's over-active emotions and wild jumping to conclusions, had assumes the Elf left him for good. The Elf had not been the first lover to abandon the Faerie and in a fit of despair, thinking no one loved him, BoomFuzzy commit suicide. Quaraun, through the soul bond, felt everything BoomFuzzy had felt, and his soul died with the Phooka. Quaraun was mortified, realizing it had been his own lack of explaining why he left, and not telling the Phooka he was returning, that had caused the Fae's death. The guilt now weighed on Quaraun's mind, crushing what remained of his now badly shattered soul.

The horror had only just begun for Quaraun, as he soon realized BoomFuzzy had turned himself into a Lich, and Quaraun found his soul bound to the murderous, undead Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Desperate to free his soul of it's binding to the Lich, Quaraun wandered the world for two hundred years, seeking out said Lich, only to be continually tripped up by running into wild, crazed Phookas.

The fact that BoomFuzzy never left him, and was now in various forms stalking him and going out of his way to see how long it could take him to drive the lonely Elf absolutely out of his mind, never occurred to Quaraun at all. And it likewise didn't occurred to him, that he was in fact in the company of yet another reanimated version of his former lover BoomFuzzy, or that the Phooka had just come right out and told him this was a trap, which he had built and could unlock and relock. Instead Quaraun was too fascinated by the fact that he had never seen a hole in the ground like this one and was not listening to a single word the Phooka was saying to him.

"What is this place? It has all the appearances of a bottomless pit."

"I dids tolds ya, it be oubliette."

"Unicorn, do you know what this is?"

"An oubliette."

"This is Lich magic."

"Aye. I knows it is."

"There is phylactery here. These spells, they are for protecting a phylactery from being discovered."

"Aye. Thus why it be safe. Nothing can get in... or out."

"But this is a Lich's lair."

“Aye.”

“That means a Lich lives here.” 

"I know. I live here. It is me house."

"Why do you live in a Lich's lair?"

Rather than answer Quaraun, Unicorn simply pushed the Elf over the edge.

“Yis stupid, Quaraun,” the Lich called down the hole.

~o0o~

2013 long novella extended Edition cover art

the 80 page short run edition

It was many hours later, when Quaraun woke up and found that he had been sleeping on a pile of soft, but picky hay, piled on the dirt floor of the oubliette.

"Oow," Quaraun groaned as he sat up. He had landed hard on his already wounded side and was feeling like he'd been trampled by horses. 

Quaraun looked around the room cautiously. The room was dark. Only one small hole, cut high on the ceiling allowed a thin beam of sunlight shine through. It was a few moments before his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Quaraun did not see much of interest in this room, it was practically empty.

"Why have a hole so heavily guarded if nothing's in it?"

As Quaraun scanned the room and it's bare emptiness, his eyes fell upon a strange sight. The Phooka was laying asleep beside him. He was laying in a somewhat odd position, almost as though he were a wolf. He did not resemble the Phooka Quaraun had seen before. His skin was much paler. Golden tan instead of dark brown. He now looked Asian instead of black. His claws were longer, as were his fangs. His long dread locked hair, though once black, was now streaked with grey and silver. His features indicated that in his youth, he had been quite handsome. The thing that stood out the most about him was his odd mode of dress. His clothing was clearly not local. He was wearing a black kimono of damn fine silk with a high glossy sheen and richly embroidered with red and gold Chinese dragons. Quaraun had assumed the Phooka to be a Scottish Faerie, because of his broken accent, but unmorphed and in his true form it was clear this was a demon of Asian descent, both his cloths and his features suggested as much. And yet, Quaraun could see the creature, even when asleep, had put a heavy glimmer spell on itself and was still not in it's true form. 

Quaraun wondered if this was the same Phooka or had Unicorn left him in the care of another. It was hard to tell with a Phooka. They could look like anything or anyone and change at will. As Quaraun knelt closer to get a better look at him through the darkness, Quaraun smelt that same strong scent of pine and cloves, that he had smelt on the creature before. Pine and cloves and peppermint and gingerbread. The fragrance of gingerbread was especially strong down in the bottom of this pit.

“Gingerbread,” Quaraun whispered. 

There was a strong smell of gingerbread to this entire place. Quaraun touched the wall of the cave. It was not made of dirt or stone. It was made of gingerbread. The rocks sticking through the dirt-like cake, were made of chocolate.

“BoomFuzzy.”

BoomFuzzy had been a chef. Most people knew him as a candy maker, for it was candy that he sold to the public, but there wasn't anything he couldn't make. Food was his passion, and gingerbread cakes had been somewhat of an obsession of his, to the point that he built real houses out of huge sheets of gingerbread and used gingerbread loaf cakes for brick. He had lived in an elaborate gingerbread house hen he lived with the Moon Elves. 

BoomFuzzy often told tales of having once lived at the North Pole with his couson Krumpas, another Phooka, and their friend the child eating Frost Lich whom the Humans called Santa Claus. BoomFuzzy had built old St. Nick a fortress and factory out of gingerbread.

While most things BoomFuzzy did were illusions, he had spent weeks building the gingerbread house before dropping it in the middle of the village. The cake was quite real and so appeared to be the vast, tall, gingerbread cake walls of the cave Quaraun now found himself in. 

Quaraun thought back to the tavern. It looked like gingerbread. It could have been gingerbread. The castle ruins looked like sugar cookie and gingerbread sculptures. Quaraun touched the wall, it’s soft sticky cake crumbles crushed easily in his hands. The heady fragrances of molasses and cloves filled the air.

“The cave's made of gingerbread. It's not real. He's building illusions out of gingerbread. None of this is real.”

Quaraun stared at the Phooka. Quaraun had meet every wizard of the guild, and nearly every wizard who refused guild membership and there had only ever been one candy-making wizard who built his houses out of gingerbread and chocolate... 

"BoomFuzzy," Quaraun gasped. "It can't be. BoomFuzzy's dead. I saw him die."

Quaraun reached out to touch the sleeping Phooka, but let out a cry of pain, as the Phooka leapt up from his bed in the hay, grasping the Elf's wrist with one clawed hand and his throat with the other. Quaraun had no time to react before Quaraun found himself on his back pinned helplessly to the ground, by a fierce sharp clawed creature many times stronger then he was. The beast landed on top of him straddling his hips in what Quaraun determined to be a rather embarrassing position for if Quaraun tried to struggle against Unicorn he'd be forced to press his own genitals hard against the Phooka's penis, an action Unicorn evidently assumed Quaraun would wish to avoid and thus a position which effectively prevented him from struggling to get away. 

Though Quaraun did feel somewhat silly worrying about the Phooka's penis pushing against him, when his long eagle talon like claws were digging deep into the flesh of his neck. Drops of blood appeared around the tips of his claws as they sunk into the Elf's soft flesh. The Phooka morphed back into his younger, darker skinned form he had been when Quaraun had first met him in the tavern.

"What is ya doing in here?" Unicorn demanded in a low hissing growl, his eyes glowing vibrate electric blue. His hissing voice had changed and was that of an animal not a man. His features almost skeletal, his eye sockets like two hollowed out holes in a skull. 

Quaraun suddenly felt deathly cold, as though ever last drop of warmth had been sucked out of the room. Ice crystals grew over the walls. His breath hung frozen in the icy air.

A Phooka was a monster, a beast, neither man nor animal. A creature rarely seen, and never in it's true form. No one knew what a Phooka actually looked like, only that they were hideous creatures that relishing in tearing flesh from bones and dancing in the blood of their victims. 

It wasn't the Phooka that was scaring Quaraun just then, but a Phooka was just a monster. A living physical being. But not a Lich. Liches were dead and they didn’t care what risks they had to take to kill you. They could eeasily die with you, laughing as they did, for while you would stay dead, they would get back up the next as though death had never struck. There was nothing more deadly or more dangerous then a Lich.

 Long sharp ice crystal that began growing out of the walls, creating long spikes many feet tall. The room had become deathly cold with every last drop of warmth whisked away, and a thick glaze of ice now covered everything. While Moon Elves had a high tolerance for cold, there was a limit to how much sub-zero frost they could take and the temperatures in the room were dropping many degrees below freezing point. It was a Lich's frost, and it could kill an Elf in minutes.

Quaraun looked up into his face, now just inches about his own, but it was no longer the face of an elderly man which Quaraun saw sleeping peacefully beside him. The man holding him down was much younger, with glossy black hair tinted a gleaming electric blue and blazing hollow white skull-like eyes that glowed and eerie neon blue. The creature's body was fading into ghost-like invisibility as his eyes glowed brighter, bluer, light spotlights, blinding the Elf. The entire room was dropping by several degrees every minute as ice formed on the walls and floor. The Phooka was morphing itself into a Lich. 

Quaraun saw a row of sharpened teeth that would frighten a piranha. The beast was poised to kill him, slit the Elf's throat and drink his blood; Quaraun had to think fast, if Quaraun was to get out of this alive. 

2012 novella release edition cover art

the 30 page short run edition

Quaraun was a Lich hunter or so the rumours said, but this was not entirely true. He did hunt for Liches, yes, but he was not out to kill them. That was the error of the rumours. He was looking for BoomFuzzy, whom had turned himself into a Lich, and he had certainly found him. To find him had been what Quaraun wanted all along, but what to do with him once he had found him and how to prevent the Lich from killing him, that was another matter. But then, Quaraun could not be certain this was BoomFuzzy or even a Lich at all. He was dealing with a Phooka. A trickster capable of getting in his head and knowing his thoughts and fears and using them to create very convincing illusions. This may or may not be real.

If this was real, then Quaraun had a Lich at his throat about to tear him apart, in the bottom of a cave made out of gingerbread.

If it wasn't real, then Quaraun had disturbed Phooka's sleep, the Phooka seemed to have forgotten that he was the one who had tossed the Elf down the hole, and was working on the Elf's fears to terrify him into submission, which was working quite well. Quaraun tried to think of what what happening and what to do next. 

'He doesn't seem to remember me. He probably thinks I snuck in to assassinate him. That's it! He's an old dying Phooka, that's why this room is so heavily guarded. He's an old man, he needs protection, this is all an illusion, this isn't what he actually looks like, this isn't who he really is. The old man, so vulnerable and frail, that's the real emperor. He can't really hurt me, it's all an illusion. He is frightened. He forgot he brought me here and thinks I snuck into his room while he was asleep. He's afraid I'm going to kill him in his sleep. He's attacking me because he's scared; he's more scared of me right now then I am of him.'

"Speak," Unicorn ordered, clenching his fist tighter on the Elf's throat.

"Or what?" Quaraun asked in what Quaraun hoped was a fearless voice. 

“Or I'll eat ya.”

"You can't hurt me! None of this is real. You're a Phooka, this is all an illusion. You're just a old horse trying to scare me."

To his surprise it worked. Unicorn loosened his grip and leaned back, though he continued to straddle Quaraun and was pressing uncomfortably close.

“How come is ya here?”

Quaraun pointed up to the hole in the ceiling which the Phooka had tossed him down. Unicorn stared up at the hole. 

"Oh! It be me little Elf. I forgot ya was here. Hello!" 

He pushed himself back and got off of the Elf, slunk back over to the hay where he'd been sleeping and sat down, cross-legged, grinning, and humming, now looking as he did when Quaraun had first arrived in the tavern.

“How do you keep changing forms so much.”

“Shape-shifter. It is what I do.”

"You tossed me in a hole!" Quaraun said as he got up, clutching his neck and then looking at the blood on his fingers. "And now I'm bleeding."

"And a good morning to ya too! Apricot?"

Unicorn handed the Elf a chocolate covered candied apricot, which Quaraun took.

"You tossed me in a hole!"

“Aye. I dids.”

“Why?”

"Yis supposed to be a Lich hunter. Yis wickit stupid, Quaraun."

"You tossed me in a hole!"

"To save you life."

"So you could eat me?"

"Sos I coulds fuck ya."

"Is that all you think about?"

"Aye. It is. That and food. I lives food and fucking. Ain't nothing betri. Here. Have anothah apricot.”

"I've still got this one.” 

“There is more to life then sex and eating.”

“No there ain't. People like to pretend there is, but there really ain't, not when ya gets right doun to it. So why bother pretending there be more to life? I fucks what I want and etts who I wants. Life be good. … or is it death be good? We is dead, or undead or something.”

“Why didn't you eat me?"

"Dids ya be desiren me to?"

"NO!"

"But ya thought I would."

“Are you a Lich?”

“Ya the Lich Hunter. Ya tells me.”

"You're an Elf Eater. Eating Elves is what Elf Eaters do, thus the name."

"Well, I suppose ya should fucking call me an Elf Fucker instead then, because I twould rather fuck ya then eat ya."

"You're weird."

"We is a Faerie."

“You keep saying we… is there any body else here or are you just insane a speaking about yourself in third person?

“I. We. Same thing. I been alone too long. I talk to meself. We talks to ourselves.”

"You're weird even for a Faerie.” 

“Ya know calling me A Elf Eater is somewhat inaccurate.”

“Why?”

“There be only one Elf Eater, thus the term, THE Elf Eater.”

“The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.”

“Aye.”

“Leader of the Lich Lords. 

“Aye.”

“All the Phookas from his clan are called Elf Eaters now.”

“All the Phookas of his clan are dead.”

“Are they?”

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“He etts them.”

“He ate his own people?”

“Yep.”

“Why did he do that?”

“I twere hungry. They were there.”

“Where are we?"

“We? Which we?”

“You and me. Me and you. Me, a Moon Elf, in a cave made out of gingerbread, with a Phooka who’s apparently a Lich and trying to convince me he’s BoomFuzzy so he can rape. That we.”

"We is safe." Unicorn's voice had lost all sound of fear.

"Safe? From a Lich? There is no safe from a Lich."

Quaraun got up and was examining the walls and staring up at the hole in the ceiling, many feet above his head.

“Is that the only way in?”

“Yep.”

“How do we get out?”

“Me? I can fly. You? Yis stuck doun here.”

Quaraun began pacing circles around the room, nervously looking up at the hole in the ceiling then looking around for a door in the walls, then looking back up at the hole in the ceiling.

“There's a Lich out there.”

“There a Lich in here.”

“We'll be killed.”

"Ya a doylt of a Lich hunter."

“We're trapped.”

“Does ya always lose ya hearing when ya has panic attacks?”

“We're trapped in a Lich's lair.”

“And there be only one Lich around here.”

“There is a Lich outside.”

“Has ya even got a brain in ya head? That Lich which were outside is the Lich in here now.”

“We'll be killed.”

“Ya just is not listening to me. What is I saying? Hims a Thullid. Of course him ain't got no brain in hims head. It all been ett up.”

“We're trapped.”

“We is safe, ya silly brainless Elf.”

“And you fly? How the hell do you fly?”

“Ya lost me.”

“You said you could fly.”

“I said that a half hour ahgoo. Why ya questioning now?”

“I'm slow to think.”

“I noticed.”

“I don't think well under stress.”

“Been noticing that too.”

“How can you fly?”

“Lots of things can fly. Liches fly. Ghosts fly. Vampires fly. Phookas can turn into birds and fly.”

“Liches fly?”

“Noncorporeal. We can hover, float, glide, fly, zip around, walk through walls, pop out of wells, walk on clouds, climb walls, walk on the ceiling.”

“Walk on ceilings? Why would you do that?”

First edition short story cover art of 2009

(the original 13 page short story that appeared on fanfiction.net)

“When ya lives for a million years and commit suicide a million times just to see how many different ways ya can die, hoping maybe in a few centuries ya’ll find a way to finally stay dead and it never happens, ya start to get bored and wonder what sort of things ya can does to pass the time. One day I twere pacing back and forth on the floor trying to come up with a new way to kill meself, one I had’na tried yet and afore I knows it, I’m one the ceiling pacing around. Knows not how I got up there, but made it easy to hang meself.”

“Why would you spend eternity trying to kill yourself?”

“do ya knows how fucking long eternity is? I sick of it. Being a Lich ain’t all it cracked up to be. I does no recommend it.”

“Liches walk through walls?” Quaraun looked back up at the hole in the ceiling. “You're sure it can't get in?”

"Oh yes." The Phooka nodded. "If it were still outside, which it ain't, cause it be in here now talking to ya, iffy I were still outside, it can'na get in here. I guarantee ya, any Liches that be outside is not coming in. No Liches can gets past me. No Lich dares to try gets past me. We is their leader."

Unicorn closed his eyes and began humming to himself again.

"Lich's are the most all powerful beings on the planet, they can get in anywhere they want to. It's the nature of being a Lich. And this is a damned Lich's lair."

"And yis me sweet little idiot, just as stupid as ya ever were. Ya twere stupid three hundred years ahgoo and ya still stupid now. I loves ya stupidity, Quaraun. Does not know how ya has survived all these years. Ya just too stupid to live and yet here ya are, still kvikr for no damned reason.”

“We are in a Lich's lair.”

“Aye. Ya've said that a few times now and ya still not listening to a word I has saids to ya.”

Quaraun was listening. He had heard the Phooka. Every word it had said was fully registering and that was what was causing the Elf's panic. He was trapped not by a Phooka, but by a Phooka that had turned itself into a Lich. And not just any Lich, but one of the thirteen Lich Lords, and not just any Lich lord, but their leader and creator himself, King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. It was one thing to be caught by a Phooka, but this was a Lich. It was one thing to be caught by a Lich, but this was a Lich Lord. It was one thing to be caught by a Lich Lord, but this was The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley himself, a fact that Quaraun didn’t want to face, because if this was The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, then that could only mean one thing:

This was his dead lover BoomFuzzy back from the dead.

 Quaraun heard every word the creature said, he was just ignoring the Lich, because for if this Phooka was a Lich, and the Lich was in fact The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, then this was BoomFuzzy and Quaraun's poor broken heart couldn't face that. Quaraun had loved BoomFuzzy with every fibre of his heart and soul and he had watched BoomFuzzy die a horrible, terrible, agonizingly painful death. To see BoomFuzzy return as an undead creature of evil was more then Quaraun could bare. His mind was torn by the burning desire to be reunited with his lover, and the terrorized fear of wanting nothing but to be far away from the monster he now was.

Quaraun sat back down on the floor. His side hurt, his head felt like it was spinning, too many thoughts were flying around, confusing him. All he wanted to do was lay down, close his eyes, and wake up somewhere else. In another time. Another place.

The Phooka watched quietly as the Elf collapsed to the floor and laying panting from the panic attack that had seized him. Unicorn moved to kneel beside the fallen pink clad wizard and stroked his long silver hair.

“Ya poor thing. Ya stress yarself out too much. Ya needs to not think so much. Just relax and empty ya mind. Which should’na be hard to do, considering there no brain in ye head to begin with. I feel want ya feel, ya know. Me pretty little girl Elf born with boy parts that burn for BoomFuzzy's love. And the terror of knowing what BoomFuzzy really is. Yis so conflicted.”

Unicorn leaned forward and kissed the Elf passionately. To his surprise, Quaraun wrapped his arms around the Phooka and pulled him closer, returning the kisses. The Phooka slip his hand under the fabric of the Elf's soft pink dress and began roughly stroking his gentiles. Quaraun moaned as his juices flowed onto the Phooka's hand.

“Ya as wet as a horny schoolgirl lusting eftah her teacher.”

For a few moments Quaraun was lost in the pleasurable lusts the creature was making him feel, but suddenly he realized where he was and who was doing this to him. The Elf squealed and bucked and tried to push the Phooka away.

“Please don't,” Quaraun cried out as he pulled away.

The Phooka did not resist Quaraun's attempt to stop him, and sat back away from the Elf allowing him to scramble away. 

“Ya want it. Ya can'na hide that.”

“I want BoomFuzzy and you're not him.”

 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:

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The Elf Eater's Map

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*Captured By The Lich Lord  (NSFW | 18+)

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BedTime Stories For A Lich: ZooLock & The Pixie

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An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit

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The Lich's True Form Revealed 

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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:

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

This page last updated on: April 07, 2017

Not sure what the series is about? 

Check out 

The Quaraun Series Prologue

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.

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Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:

• Absinthe Slushies: An Ode to Frozen Green Fairy Wine

• Bone Dice

• BoomFuzzy's Chowder Dilemma

• The Cellar's Forgotten Treasure

• Chaos in The Lighthouse - Shattered Panes, Shattered Minds

• The Cliff-Side Temple

• Control or Protection?

• A Dark and Stormy Night

• Drying Herbs

• Excited For The New Baby

• Five Ways To Save Money in Las Vegas

• The Golden Dragon Keys

• Herons in the Dunes

• If your ass ain’t freezing or your brains ain’t scrambled, you’re ain’t really trying

• Kiss Me Fuckin' Arse - Just Another Day in the Ice-Laced Ruins of The GodForsaken City

• Lens and Light Maintenance

• Macaroni and Cheese: A Creamy Pasta Dish Drenched in Melted Cheese, Often Topped with Breadcrumbs- It's Never That Easy

• A Map Worth More Than Gold

• The Morning After a Night of Teaching Wizards To Gather Magic With Cards

• Necromancer of the Parched Sands in the Desert of Diona

• Necromancy-A Day in the Life of a Bumbling Necromancer-Again

• Nightmare Nook

• Paddlewheel Maintenance

• The Phooka's Dragon School

• The Red Hakama

• Springtime by the River

• Spirit-Walk Slippers

• Sticky Rice, Bare Fingers, and Slippery Chopsticks

• The Sweet and Sour of Lemons

• The Terror Bird

• 3 Perspectives on an Apple

• The Valuable Mystery of the Talking Saloon Door and How We Nearly Got Shot Over Stale Tacos

• Vendetta over Vittles

• A Very Important Clump of Grass

• Wagers and Wiles in the Godforsaken City

• The Washer Woman & The Fae

• Weather Forecasting Stones

• You Never Know What Info You Might Pick Up in the Afterlife aka Quaraun's Near Death Experience (A NDE Fiction)

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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.

1. 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
2. A Short Fiction Story
3. An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
4. The Quaraun Series Prologue
5. Quaraun Pink Necromancer Info 2
6. Index of Pink Necromancer Fiction on Space Dock 13 (EelKat.com)
7. An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit | 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.

Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂ And if it’s your birthday today: ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐꧁ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ☆ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ꧂🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭 Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻

Wheelchair Fundraiser

@eelkat i just found out there is yet another bizarre rumour going around. where are these wild rumours coming from? who is starting them? and why? ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

@eelkat since I've been flooded with hundreds of messages the past two weeks asking if I still own "the world's most haunted car", yes, and here it is, filmed today May 18, 2026… but my son Xavier is dead, i am crippled and given that people are AGAIN showing up calling my Dodge "haunted", calling my friend "an alien", calling me "transgender", and spreading wild defamation slander connecting me to Stephen King, I think I need to start taking down the contact information of every blogger, podcaster, youtuber, and social media account spreading these rumors, and sue every single one of them for CAUSING my car to be cut in half May 10, 2010, for CAUSING the backhoe that drove over my house August 8, 2013, for CAUSING my son's murder November 14, 2013, for CAUSING me to be crippled and in a wheelchair November 14, 2013, and for CONTINUING to CAUSE harassers to show up in person to harass me near daily, STILL now in 2026. EVERYONE telling you my car is haunted, telling you my friend is an alien, calling my car "the goldeneagle", calling my friend "Etiole", or trying to connect me or my car to Stephen King, is lying to you. They crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, and a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet identified the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club and the FBI believes that it is friends and family of the woman who did it, are the ones who started and spread the rumors saying my car is haunted, saying I'm an alien abductee, saying all kinds of similar bs about aliens, ufos, ghosts, witchcraft, demons, and Stephen King connections, even though I don't believe in ghosts, aliens, ufos, demons, and had never heard of Stephen King before 30k of his fans showed up in my yard trying to find my car! FBI believes the backhoe driver and the murderer are the same person and it is a developer who wanted my land and so started the Stephen King, ghost, and alien rumors all in an attempt to drive me off my land, and when it didn't work they drove a backhoe over my house, and when that didn't work they crippled me and killed my son. Why are they doing this? How do I get them to stop? ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

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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.

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.

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.

More information about the backhoe attack, my son's murder, my becoming crippled, my becoming homeless, and the FBI investigation around all of it, can be found here.

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All the writing prompts found here on my website, are also available in printed paperback editions, on Amazon.

There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.

The Park Bench Method of Writing 100+ Cozy Fantasy Writing Prompts for NaNoWriMo & NovNov 2025 Finding Your Character’s Goal Through Mundane Moments (Character Creation & Development - NaNoWriMo & NovNov 2025) --with 500+ Writing Prompts! 30 Cozy Fantasy Writing Prompts - June 2025 - 30 Day Edition 30 Cozy Fantasy Writing Prompts, Queer Throuples/Polycules Slice of Life Edition 30 "TRUE COZY" Cozy Fantasy Writing Prompts 🫖 30 More Cozy Fantasy Writing Prompts - June 2025 Writing Character Driven Flash Fiction for NaNoWriMo & NovNov 2025 -with 90 Cozy Fantasy Slice of Life Writing Prompts A shit ton load of daily writing prompts and writing dares to use for National Novel Writing Month, 2025 edition! For the people who had been asking where to find them, the Print Paperback editions of the writing prompts found on my website are available HERE. What's New (Newly Published or Recently Updated or Edited) NaNoWriMo (Now NovNov) Annual October Prep - 2026 Edition (22 years!) Oct 23, 26 03:51 PM NaNoWriMo (Now NovNov) Annual October Prep - 2026 Edition (22 years!) Read More Currency in a zombie apocalypse or The economy of Vesonta Oct 23, 26 12:03 PM Currency in a zombie apocalypse or How does the economy of Vesonta work? or Do the UnSeelie Court use money? Read More What makes a wizard a wizard? Oct 22, 26 04:42 PM What makes a wizard a wizard? Character Creation and Worldbuilding lore Read More Vampires - a look at Vampirism in The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Oct 21, 26 11:50 AM Vampires - a look at Vampirism in The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane/The Pink Necromancer series Read More Is Quaraun gay? | Quaraun FAQs Oct 14, 26 02:59 PM Is Quaraun gay? Is The Pink Necromancer transgender? | Answering readers FAQs about Quaraun the Insane Read More Wendy C Allen: Old Orchard Beach & Biddeford Maine Dark Fantasy Author Oct 10, 26 05:58 AM 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 Read More How Did The FBI Get Involved? Oct 05, 26 10:46 PM How Did The FBI Get Involved? Read More But is it Omega Verse? Sep 30, 26 11:11 PM Readers have suggested my Quaraun series is Omegaverse... let's find out if it is or not Read More Who is Tod Murphy? (updated for Christmas Eve attack 2025) Sep 27, 26 10:49 PM Who is Tod Murphy? (updated for Christmas Eve attack 2025) Read More Phookas Sep 25, 26 02:46 PM Everything you could ever want to know about phookas Read More ChatGPT Command Prompts For Fantasy Writers Sep 16, 26 04:27 PM Asking ChatGPT To Create Its Own Command Prompts For Fantasy Writers Read More The Egg Question: A Pink Necromancer Short Story Aug 06, 26 08:42 PM After a long day of killing Humans, The UnSeelie Court's pregnant mage contemplates why having sex with the Dragon King does not result in laying Dragon Eggs. Read More Fish, Eels, Storyland, Autism, Becoming a Published Author, Art Cars Jul 30, 26 09:16 AM Fish, Eels, Storyland, Autism, Becoming a Published Author, and Art Cars; a long and varied conversation with ChatGPT5.6 Read More The Cat at the Sea Cave Jul 29, 26 10:02 AM A Pink Necromancer story poem Read More My Elves Are JellyFish Jul 13, 26 01:38 PM My Elves Are JellyFish, and I asked for thoughts from Google vs ChatGPT Read More The Three-Seventeen Pee Expedition Jun 16, 26 02:33 PM The Three-Seventeen Pee Expedition: A Pink Necromancer Short Story Read More Why I Write (Some Thoughts on Living With Autism) Jun 10, 26 10:45 AM Why I Write (Some Thoughts on Living With Autism) and a look at the history of 144 and 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine Read More How Much Money Do Self-Published Authors Make Jun 08, 26 08:26 PM A Look at How Much Money A Million Books Sold Is Equal To - How Much Money Do Self-Published Authors Make Read More 146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine, FBI Murder Investigation Jun 08, 26 08:20 PM 146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine, FBI Murder Investigation; How Did The FBI Get Involved? Read More The Quaraun Series Prologue May 20, 26 03:11 PM The Quaraun Series Prologue Read More An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series May 17, 26 04:47 PM An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Read More No, Disabled People Do Not Exist To Inspire You May 14, 26 11:01 PM Yes, it is offensive to write disabled characters to act as inspiration to others. or how to write disabled characters accurately Read More Murder Investigation Updates, Old Orchard Beach, Maine May 11, 26 12:25 PM Murder Investigation Updates, Old Orchard Beach, Maine Read More The FBI murder investigation 144 & 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach May 06, 26 07:05 PM The FBI murder investigation of 144 & 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine - Everything we are allowed to publically release Read More Thoughts on Reborn Therapy Dolls After My Son's Murder Apr 15, 26 06:29 AM My 8 month old son was murdered; Thoughts on Reborn Therapy Dolls After My Son's Murder Read More Addressing victim blaming in murder investigations Mar 13, 26 09:40 PM Addressing victim blaming in murder investigations Read More The Tussah Day Serenade Feb 16, 26 07:44 AM The Tussah Day Serenade, a fiction short story poem - LGBTQAI+ FICTION | The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane | TransMan MC | Read More Ghosts Beneath the Pink Silk Tent Feb 11, 26 05:11 AM Ghosts Beneath the Pink Silk Tent Read More An Existential Crisis Feb 11, 26 05:09 AM An Existential Crisis 🌸{A Pink Necromancer Triple Drabble} 🦄🌸 Read More The Moon Goddess Laughs From The Rooftops Feb 11, 26 05:05 AM The Moon Goddess Laughs From The Rooftops Read More 10 Years of Injustice: Tackling Radical Church Extremism Feb 11, 26 04:29 AM 10 Years of Injustice: Tackling Radical Church Extremism Read More Don't Be A Stalker Feb 10, 26 09:14 PM Don't be a stalker Read More IMPORTANT NOTE: All the writing prompts found here on my website, are also available in printed paperback editions, on Amazon. There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website. January February 2026 Updates If you are one of (as of December 2025, the now more than ten thousand) daily visitors, who arrive here daily in search of SEO advice, I made this page for you: My response to the alarming spike in traffic to my "SEO" pages. aka I am getting Weird Spike In Google Traffic For SEO & Content Writing & Marketing keywords and search terms even though this is a Yaoi and Gay Romance website that has absolutely nothing to do with SEO or Content Writing or Content Marketing What the fuck? The Park Bench Method of Writing Receiving death threats over a septic tank and a little brown log cabin, but I own neither a septic tank nor a little brown log cabin... what even are these thugs talking about? I am a mute/none verbal wheelchair user and I just had an encounter over my wheelchair, but being mute had no way to defend myself. Crazy Woman Just Attacked - No Clue Why or Who She Is (August 14, 2025) Articles For Writers on How To Write & Publish A Rapid Release  Series Want to write like I do? You want this page: Writing Mindset Shift & Lester Dent vs Kishotenketsu w/Thoughts on Being one of Dr. Lindstrom's 200 PenPal Students (NaNoWriMo & NovNov 2025) plus Polyamory Beyond Fetish: Writing Multi-Partner Relationships and Writing Blind Characters Plus Elves and Very High, High Elves  VS Unicorns and Phookas and Demons and also What exactly makes an Elf an Elf? (What is the definition of an Elf?) but Noses, Penis Piercings, And Rapunzel Hair and Need Help Defeating Overpowered Fantasy Wizards? + Wizards and More Wizards and Even More Wizards and Still More wizards and MAKE VILLAINS EVIL AGAIN: A WRITER’S BATTLE CRY TO RECLAIM THE DARK SIDE Have you ever considered: How Things In Your Life Affect Your Writing or Currency In Worldbuilding and The Dangers of World Travel or  Dragging a Body Through The Snow and Talking While Falling Asleep or Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers or I have everything but the kitchen sink... wait, how'd that kitchen sink get in my pocket? Writing Absurdist Fantasy Books but How long does it take to reach 1667 words? and 50k in one day - is it possible? plus What is the average typing speed? plus What (self-publishing) platform pays the most (for books)? My top 3 picks. Comparing my results from different places. and Knowing what to include when describing the surroundings of a scene also Validation Is a Cult and Open Strong, Stay Loud and  Where are the writers who love writing? plus Self-Publishing Success: Does Anyone Ever Succeed at Self-Publishing? and Where To Get Writing Ideas? and Writing What You Know Might Not Be What You Think It Is and Why I do not attend writing groups...are they all like this or just the ones in Maine? but also Don't Forget To Just Write  because Yes, You Can! Plus The Park Bench Method of Writing (with 10k writing prompt list) or The Park Bench Method of Writing (just the article) plus: How did you build your audience? Not online, that's for sure. aka How to sell ten million books aka How I sold ten million books. Need Writing Prompts? For Anyone Looking for: The "haunted car" people call The GoldenEagle & my response to Stephen King's illegally filming my family and farm in his movies? My response to MUFON's Amphibious Aliens? My response to Coast to Coast AMs Arrival in my yard? Back to the Home Page 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! Here's,for my 26th year, a shit ton load of daily writing prompts and writing dares to use for National Novel Writing Month, 2025 edition! 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  The Quaraun Series Prologue 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: Absinthe Slushies: An Ode to Frozen Green Fairy Wine Bone Dice BoomFuzzy's Chowder Dilemma The Cellar's Forgotten Treasure Chaos in The Lighthouse - Shattered Panes, Shattered Minds The Cliff-Side Temple Control or Protection? A Dark and Stormy Night Drying Herbs Excited For The New Baby Five Ways To Save Money in Las Vegas The Golden Dragon Keys Herons in the Dunes If your ass ain’t freezing or your brains ain’t scrambled, you’re ain’t really trying Kiss Me Fuckin' Arse - Just Another Day in the Ice-Laced Ruins of The GodForsaken City Lens and Light Maintenance Macaroni and Cheese: A Creamy Pasta Dish Drenched in Melted Cheese, Often Topped with Breadcrumbs- It's Never That Easy A Map Worth More Than Gold The Morning After a Night of Teaching Wizards To Gather Magic With Cards Necromancer of the Parched Sands in the Desert of Diona Necromancy-A Day in the Life of a Bumbling Necromancer-Again Nightmare Nook Paddlewheel Maintenance The Phooka's Dragon School The Red Hakama Springtime by the River Spirit-Walk Slippers Sticky Rice, Bare Fingers, and Slippery Chopsticks The Sweet and Sour of Lemons The Terror Bird 3 Perspectives on an Apple The Valuable Mystery of the Talking Saloon Door and How We Nearly Got Shot Over Stale Tacos Vendetta over Vittles A Very Important Clump of Grass Wagers and Wiles in the Godforsaken City The Washer Woman & The Fae Weather Forecasting Stones You Never Know What Info You Might Pick Up in the Afterlife aka Quaraun's Near Death Experience (A NDE Fiction) 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: Abyssal Addlepated: Stupid and Confused All the roads are gone Alone Ancient Coin Hoard Unearthed Angry Ocean Waves at Sunset The Arrival The Art of Destroying a Human Village for Fun and Profit At the High Priest's Altar Back At The Tavern and Still No Shrimp The Bandits and the Pink Necromancer The Banshee Sisters: Bean-Nighe and Ben-Neeyah In the Swamp of Death The Beacon Room at the Top of the Black Tower Lighthouse The Beauty of a Silk Moth Hatching The Beginning of the End Bellicose: Warlike! Aggressive! Hostile! Beneath a crimson sky, the silk weaver wove pink silk. Beneath Malevolent Stars The Black Sock, Again Blizzard The Boat Fiasco The Book Burning Maggots, a You Can't Spell Hatred Without Red Hats BoomFuzzy's Gingerbread House from Hell The Brownies & The Witch, or Why Faeries Don’t Wear Socks The Bumbling Pursuit of The Pink Necromancer Candied Nightmares The Candle Con in Ember Hollow The Candy Corn Unicorn Captured By The Lich Lord The Cast Iron Frying Pan Cattail Pollen Spaghetti with Wild "Oregano" A Chilly Light Drizzle Becomes Snowfall on the Shore Chocolate Bliss Chocolate in the Neon Shadows Christmas in 40th Century Dystopia Christmas With The Krampus Family The City of Death Clam Digging in the Rain The Clock Ticks Away Clotheslines, Games, and the Village Code Ghosts Comet Fall Snow Day Blitz Conundrum in the Bazaar Corsets, Elves, and Undead Faeries Crabapples in the Rain Cranberry Muffins The Crooked Dice The Crows Are Restless Crullers and Curses at Midnight The Curse of the Liquid Gold The Cursed Mirror Dangerous Tides {A Pink Necromancer Drabble Dozen, featuring Etiole} Dark Damp Basement A Day At Witch Pond & Fleeing To The Forest Deadly Shores of Noodle Beach The Demon Cultists and The Coming of The Darkness The Demonic Music Box Desolate Nostalgia on a Frozen Shoreline The Diamond Forest in the Bio Dome The Disbelief of Humans Discovering A Floating Castle Dismal Day at the Street Market The Doors' Dark Secret - A Wedding In A Zombie Apocalypse Dreams of Purple Pearls The Drunk Moon Elf Echoes of the Glass Forest Echoes of the Unseen An Eclipse in the Faerie Glen An Eclipse Looms Tonight An Eerie Discovery Eerie Symbols in the Snow The Egg That Was Not an Egg The Elf With Crippled Hands Ember Enable The Enchanted Map Encountering ghostly apparitions in the swamp Evil Eggplants Stalking Outside Evil McEvil of The Twirly Moustache Existential Crisis Perspectives - 3 Perspectives on an Existential Crisis Exploring the Swamp's Forgotten River A Fall in the River A Field of Poppies On The Road To Witch Pond 15 Drabbles About Being Transgender The First Flicker of Dawn Fishing in the Rain Five Ways To Save Money in Las Vegas Fizzy and Frigid A Flapdoodle Wizard’s Duel Fleeced for Fizz Fog & Peach Melba Toast After Last Night's Rain Footprints In The Sand Forest Kings and Their Antler Crowns The Fragrant Smoke of Flavoured Herbs Freshly Baked Sugar Cookies The Frilly Nest of Panic A Garden of Pink Chrysanthemums Get your hands off my dress! GhoulSpawn & The Cultists GhoulSpawn Said The Moon Don’t Laugh GhoulSpawn's Toasted Marshmallow Magic A Glass of Fresh Milk Gloom Blob of Doom: The Dreadful Dripping of the Doom Blob of Gloom Glumpish, Grumpy, Sullen, Gloomy Golden Field, Pink Glories The Golden Mask The Graveyard That Ate the Living The Great UnSeelie Court Swindlers He Always Comes Back Heirloom Tomatoes Help! He's trying to feed me! The Herd Approaches The Howl on Silent Moor How to Create a Literary Empire with Just Your Bum Poems How To Kill a Lich How to Hijack a Human Supply Train Without Getting Shot How to Overthrow an Entire Settlement Without So Much as Lifting a Finger I Need To Feel Safe Ignoramus — An Utterly Ignorant Crowd of Humans IkuTursu's Cursed Depths of the Swamp Where Pine Boughs Whisper Incandescent Shadows Over Driftwood Bay The Infected Survivor Inner Fortitude Insidious Love Invigorating Cool Air Iron Hooves and Burning Roads, Krampus on Wheels The Ivory Tower of Greed The Jar of Pickled Toes Jibber Jabber Ramblings by the Fire The Jolly Red Lich King Journey Through the Zombie-Infested Swamp on the Blue Monkey Judgement An Ode To The Lunatics Preaching The Rapture of September'25 Kelim and The Necromancer: Finding Finderu Kelim Meets Quaraun The Insane Lanterns Over the Faerie Glen Leaving Your Bed Messy Isn't Exactly the Apocalypse The Leprechaun of The Deep North A Lich's Lament For a Mortal Lover Growing Old A Lich's Reflections On Escaping The Swamp of Death The Lich's True Form Revealed The Lighthouse’s Glass-Eyed Horror The Lighthouse Keeper The Lighthouse That Leapt, Space Dock 13's First Jump Through Space The Long Road The Loot Tree Lord of the Hive Lost In The Forest of No Return-Trying To Find Directions The Lost Library and The Snowglobe The Lotus' Silent Prayer on the Sandy Shoreline Lover's Triangle Make tea and go for a rainy forest walk Maple Cotton Candy Served as a Topping on Vanilla Ice Cream A Market Day Disaster Market Day Weekend - Three Days In The Life of The Pink Necromancer Marsh Serenity Reflection Mayonnaise Meeting Mallac Melt, Ya Safe With Me The MerMan's Wrath Milkweed Meadow Mint, Madness, and Motor Parts The Mischief of the Purple Unicorn Misplaced Utensils and the Cascade of Confusion Monsters & Mayhem: How Black Tower Became Pink (8+ Parts) The Moon and The Drowned The Moon Goddess Laughs From The Rooftops The Moon That Hungers The Moon and The Mirror Morning Sickness at The Shattered Stein (TW: MPreg Yaoi) A Mysterious Door No Goldfish, Today? No Place for Birth The Noodle of Power Not Little Red Riding Hood Obsessive Love-Dangerous Love An Ode to My Shattered Sanity Ominous One River In Three Perspectives Open Grave An Ordinary Day A Path of Twisted Trees A Peaceful Night on the Tundra The Peaceful Shores of Noodle Beach Phantom Tides Pickling Perfection Pickles, Panic, & Permafrost The Picnic Pink Marabou Trimmed Rainbow Leg Warmers, a Purple Feathered Black Leather Codpiece, and an Emerald Green Overly Fluffy Scarf The Pink Necromancer's Deceitful Carpet Weave Pink Sheep, Cheesy Burritos, and The Grim Reality of Zombies Pliable Clay on the Potter's Wheel Pocket Lich Unleashed: Quaraun Murders Finderu Preparations for the Street Market of the GodForsaken City Psychotic Dead Things Quaraun's Beauty Makeovers Quaraun's Candle Business Quaraun's Irritable Day Quaraun and The Wandering Turtle City Quarreling Over the Last Slice of Pizza A Quiet Day on The Blue Monkey The Quiet Evening in the Pink Silk Tent A Quiet Evening In The Rain A Quiet Night on The River A Quiet Place To Sweep A Quiet, Relaxing Foot Rub The Rain-Drenched Alley Raining Cats & Dogs Readers vs Readers, What Really Makes a Reader, a Reader? Remove! The Return of ZooLock The River Boat Man-Woman The Sacred Pink Secret (TW: Mpreg Yaoi) Safety and Emergency System Activated. Please Being Calm Santa's Floating Dead Body Santa's Letter To Satan The Screaming Contest The Seagull Sea Slugs and Clam Chowder Bread Bowls Secret Meeting Hidden Behind Closed Doors Shadows on the Clam Flats Shipyard at Dusk The Silence of the Unseen Silks in the Snow The Singing Crabgrass Crabs — A Green Fairy Wine Tale A Sinister-Looking Stone Well Six Days Earlier The Snake's Prophecy of Doom Upon The Fractured Moon A Solitary Black Sock Spinning Dreams in Silk The Soul Eater Spacious Space Spooky Scary Skeletons - A Graveyard Waltz Stillness in the Garden's Chaos Stone Cakes for the Road Survival Preppers Of The Zombie Apocalypse The Swamp of Death The Tavern in the Faraway Town The Temple City of The Green Goddess, Where Every Street Has a Name The Terrifying Cliffs of Noodle Beach, featuring Etiole That Afternoon When Quaraun Got Stuck In a Crab Trap That Big Bad Darkness in His Heart A Threatening Letter Too Busy Cooking Lemon Tarts Toobe's Well-Prompted Apocalypse (A ChatBot Plans Global Domination) The Trade Caravan A Tumble In The River The Vacuous Tavern Fool Waiter, There's A Head In My Soup Wandering Merchant: The Trader’s Cryptic Goods (Part 2 of ShipYard At Dusk) What I Wish I Knew Before Not Becoming an Astrophysicist When a Government Tries to Cover Its Crimes Why the Sea is Salt A Winter Wizard Wishing For Lobster Rolls-Never Make Wishes In The Presence of Wizards WORMS! Wrath of the Sacred Pink JellyFish Yelling at the Snowstorm You've Only Known Our World Through The Eyes of a Madman You trust that nonsense over a map? Zombies Are Not the Worst Thing Here {TW: Love fucking wins} Zwodder: A Drowsy Stupid State of Mind 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. FacebookXPinterestTumblrRedditWhatsApp ShareFacebookXPinterestTumblrRedditWhatsApp The Park Bench Method of Writing

1. 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
2. A Short Fiction Story
3. An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
4. The Quaraun Series Prologue
5. Quaraun Pink Necromancer Info 2
6. Index of Pink Necromancer Fiction on Space Dock 13 (EelKat.com)
7. An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit | The Night of The Screaming Unicorn

1. 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
2. A Short Fiction Story
3. An Introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series: The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
4. The Quaraun Series Prologue
5. Quaraun Pink Necromancer Info 2
6. Index of Pink Necromancer Fiction on Space Dock 13 (EelKat.com)
7. An Elf and a Lich in the Gingerbread Pit | The Night of The Screaming Unicorn

The Park Bench Method of Writing

IMPORTANT NOTE:

All the writing prompts found here on my website, are also available in printed paperback editions, on Amazon.

There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.

Want even more writing prompts?

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:

• How did the FBI get involved?

• Never Forget my son was murdered

• Do you know who this woman is? And no 146 Portland Ave is not for sale.

• Thoughts on Reborn Therapy Dolls After My Son's Murder

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.

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.

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