Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978)
Happy 2026!
It is our 30th anniversary here at Space Dock 13!
On the web since 1996!
You have encountered an extremely old website that continues to exist in old web ways, the same way it has done for now three decades.
In spite of being now 30 years old this year, started in 1996, it is still heavily active and old pages updated daily, new pages added daily, still now in 2026. All hand written, all hand coded (no AI), all by me, same as it ever was.
We Still Exist: The Old Web Did Not Go Away, You Just Forgot How To Find Us
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This site was NOT designed for mobile devices (as they had not been invented yet when I created it) thus this site looks best on a computer, at 1280x768 or above. |
This is a very old website created in 1996, so, yes, javascript is needed for the site to work as it should. If things don't function, you may need to update javascript drivers on your device |
This site tries to be mobile friendly but it's been online since 1996, so old pages may not load right on mobile devices, and as this site has had pages added near daily for 30 years there are now over 20k pages here. |
Having started out in life as a GeoCities site, this site contains glitter, bright colours, blinkies, moving gifs, and other things the old web was known for. |
Quaraun The Insane:
Volume 33 (usually - I keep renumbering these)
GhoulSpawn The Crazed and The Rose Garden of The Pink Necromancer
Scene: I Am Not GhoulSpawn
GhoulSpawn The Crazed and
The Rose Garden of The Pink Necromancer:
Chapter Who The Hell Knows (I didn't number this one)
Home / The Quaraun Series: Yaoi Novel Excerpts | Free To Read Online / GhoulSpawn The Crazed and The Rose Garden of The Pink Necromancer: I Am Not GhoulSpawn
f you are here looking for aliens, ufos, demons, cryptids, haunted cars, curses, Etiole, the wild man of old orchard beach, the goldeneagle car, the white monkey, or any of that other weird bullshit, you want this video:
...and after that video, you want these ones:
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 Wendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again.Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title. List of the published titles still in print: The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series What the series is about, for those new here: |
If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters:
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My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.
As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.
There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.
Coming soon (Nov/Dec 2026)... patterns for my slow stitched embroidery:
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The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.
There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.
I shouldn't have to say this, but people keep contacting me, so apparently I do:
- No, I do not believe in aliens. Stop contacting me to ask for alien information. If you believe in aliens, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, my car is not haunted. I've debunked that rumour many times now. . Stop contacting me to ask for haunted car information. If you believe in haunted cars, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, I am not connected to Stephen King. I didn't even know who he was until you idiots started contacting me asking about him. I had to look him up on Google to find out what you were even talking about! If you have questions about Stephen King, go contact him and ask him. I'm not him. I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I've never read one of his books. I've never seen one of his movies. I can't figure out why you people are even coming to me to ask about him in the first place!
- If someone told you I believe in aliens, if someone told you my car was haunted, if someone told you I was connected to Stephen King, you NEED to contact the FBI agent in charge of my son's murder investigation and TELL HIM WHO it was who told ou, exactly WHAT it was they said, HOW they contacted you, WHERE they contacted you... because it is a KNOWN FACT that my son's murderer is the one who started all these slanderous alien, haunted car, Stephen King rumours, and the FBI is trying to catch her.
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Do you know who this woman is?
On August 8, 2013 she drove a backhoe over my house. On November 14, 2013 she arrived at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me with a golf club and murdered my son. One June 24, 2016, days after my first attempts to walk again, she attacked me with a shopping cart at Scarborough, Walmart, reinjuring the Nov 14, 2013 injury.
She crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet id-ed the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club.
Complete details of EVERYTHING she did is on this page here.
 The golf club woman who called herself Clair as she looked November 14, 2013. Her hair is a weird chin leangth pageboy (very Medival style cut) platinum blonde with wide brown/black dyed stripes in it (like a reverse of Lily Munster, but the stripes are several, almost like a zebra). I am 5'6" and she was a LOT taller then me, like closer to the height of a man; she had thin lips like a man, and large nose like a man... she COULD have been a man disguised as a woman, given the ease with which she severed my spine....she's is a LOT stronger then is typical for a woman). She was wearing a chambre blue denim "blazer jacket over shirt" and a button up mens shirt (possibly flannel) and blue jeans. The bulk of her yelling was focused on accusing me of being transgender, even while ripping my baby out of my 8 month pregnant belly and bashing his head in with a golf club. |
 The Claire woman as she looked during her shoping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart June 2016, the attack with left me paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Her hair was dyed dark red, and she drove away in a gold Volvo 240 Station Wagon of a late 1980s/early1990s model, with a "458" on the lisnce plate.... If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
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If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Good god! We just found out about yet another slanderous rumour this woman has been spreading? When does it end? How many more of these things are out there?
Video explains what else she's done ...
If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
 If you encounter anyone claiming my car is haunted, demon possessed, or somehow connected to Stephen King please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
If you encounter anyone claiming I believe in aliens or was an alien abducttee, please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.  If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
I am sick and tired of people not giving a shit that my son was murdered!
I am sick and tired of jackasses making up rumours and lies about me and my car, calling me an alien abductee and my car haunted, just to try to cover up my son's murder!
GhoulSpawn The Crazed
and The Rose Garden of The Pink Necromancer:
Free Sample Excerpt From The Novel
(No clue what chapter it is, it's anyone's guess)
It has been brought to my attention, by several fans, that you have read all the currently published novels and are eagerly awaiting publication of the rest of the series. However, life being what it is, the town of Old Orchard Beach being what it is, and my health being what it is... publication of the novels got put on hold with an entire 2 years passing with no new novels published.
As I have many chapters of each volume finished, and each story can be read on their own in any order, without continuing one to the next, I have come to the conclusion that the best way to sait your appetite for more Quaraun, in between the publication of the finished novels, the best thing to do therefore is to simply publish the chapters that are finished here on my site, to give you something to read while waiting for each novel to be finished.
Please note that while not "true" erotica, the Quaraun series is sold as "Adult Entertainment" and is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
The Quaraun Series Is Yaoi (Gay Porn). While not "true Erotica" it is considered by most readers to be "Erotica" of some shape or form, due to the graphic nature of the sex content.
Most of the graphic stuff will not be found posted online, you'll have to read the novel for those scenes. While the excerpt below likely does not contain the stuff listed above, know that the novel it came from does, so do not buy the novel if any of those things bother you.
The Series Is Psychedelic Unicorn Porn & Contains Masochistic Drug Addicted Transvestite Twinkie Uke Elves Having Sex with Sadistic Drug Dealing UnDead Seme Unicorns
You must be 18 or older to buy the novels this excerpt comes from.
GhoulSpawn The Crazed and
The Rose Garden of The Pink Necromancer:
Chapter: I Am Not GhoulSpawn
"GhoulSpawn..." Quaraun started to say.
"I'm not GhoulSpawn."
"All right. Thing that murdered my best friend and has now taken up residence in his dead body...do you have a name?"
"No. My mother didn't give me one."
"Your mother also didn't put you in the body of this Elf."
"I know. Please let me go."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I just watched my best friend die in horrible agonizing pain, and we're not being allowed to give him a funeral or bury his body, because you've taken up residence in it and I'm not happy about that. I'm not happy about any of this."
"No one asked you to be happy."
"He was my friend."
"And now he's dead."
"I know. But here I am sitting here talking to him."
"I'm not your friend."
"You've taken his body."
"I didn't chose this body."
"I know you didn't. I was there, when they implanted you in him. I wanted to help him, but he ran away. He's suffered alone the past several years. He came back because he knew he wads dying and he didn't want to die alone."
"He wasn't alone. I've been with him the whole time."
"You killed him."
"I did not want to."
"I loved him."
"I know you did. He knew you did. It's why he stayed away. He loved you too. He was confused by it. It bothered him, how he felt for you. You being male as was he. That was why he stayed away."
"I know. I've always known."
"Please let me go. I'm not your friend. It's bad enough I'm trapped in his body. Please don't keep me trapped here too."
"If I let you go, what would you do? Where would you go?"
"I don't know."
"Then why do you need to leave?"
"Am I not to have freedom?"
"You're not my prisoner."
"Then let me go."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I know what you're going through. And I know if you went out that door right now, you'd fall by the wayside and die. You don't know how to control the body you're in. You don't know what people do to Thullids. What they'll do to you if they find out GhoulSpawn id dead and then see his body up roaming around. As much as I want to hate you for killing him, being a Thullid myself, I know the hell of a life you have to look forward to and I can pity you. Not all Thullid transformations are successful. Most die with their prey. GhoulSpawn is dead and you've survived. You at least deserve the chance to keep on living, now that you've gotten this far. If I let you walk out of here now, you'll lose that fighting chance. I'm not an Elf any more then you are. Quaraun died centuries ago. I've learned to live in his body. I've learned to be him, so well, that no one knows he's dead. If you are to survive in this world, that's infested with hate mongering Humans, you're gonna have to learn to do the same thing."
"Become GhoulSpawn?"
"Yes."
"I'm not him. I don't want to be him."
"You're in his body, you don't have a choice."
"He was a coward."
"I know. So am I. It's prob'ly why we got along."
"You barely knew him."
"I know. I wanted to get to know him better. That chance is gone now. You took that away when you killed him."
"You wish I had died instead."
"If I had wished you dead, you'd be dead. I'm a DiJinn. If I wish for something it happens."
"You still want me dead."
"No. I don't."
"I am not GhoulSpawn. You loved GhoulSpawn. You don't want him dead."
"That's true. But he is now and there's nothing I can do about it."
"You're a Necromancer. You can kill me and bring him back."
"I could. But I won't."
"Why?"
"He asked me not too. He didn't want to be brought back. He's seen the hell Unicorn suffers through. Being undead is not without side effects."
"He knew I would take his body."
"I know."
"He asked you not to kill me."
"I know."
"Why?"
"That's the way he was."
"I killed him."
"I know."
"Why would he ask you not to kill me?"
"He abhorred violence. Vengeance wasn't his way. He saw violence destroy his family. He believed peace was a better way."
"Do you?"
"I'd like to believe that. But I also believe in defending victims from cruelty."
"GhoulSpawn was my victim."
"No. You were both victims. HellBorne was cruel. HellBorne killed GhoulSpawn, not you."
"I'm trapped in the body of an Elf."
"I know. I am too. I didn't want to kill Quaraun, any more then you wanted to kill GhoulSpawn. Quaraun was the lat Moon Elf. GhoulSpawn the last Sun Elf. Now all the High Elves are dead. They have gone extinct. We who live within the hollowed out shells of their dead, empty bodies, are all that remain."
Here's The Original Release Cover Art
From 2012
"Why do you pretend to be Quaraun, when you know you are not him?"
"He was a good Elf. He was kind and loving to every one. He never hurt anyone. I have tried to live my life in his body, as he would have done. He would never have murdered his wife and children. Nor his father, no matter how cruel his father was. Quaraun would never have raised a hand to any of them."
"And you did?"
"I killed them all. Every one he loved."
"Why?"
"They killed BoomFuzzy. The one he loved the most."
"Did not Quaraun die, before you met BoomFuzzy?"
"He did. Quaraun died as a child. He was 9 years old when I killed him. He died alone. No one to comfort him. No one to hear his cries. His mother was dead already and his father didn't care. They heard him scream. Heard him crying. Begging for someone to hold him. They locked him away. In that room. That horrible room. Where they put him to punish him. Put him to forget him. He begged and pleaded to not be left alone. He died in agony. He suffered for days. Alone. And no one cared. The poor little Elf. I felt it all. His fear. His suffering. His pain. His despair. His torment. I was the only one with him. I didn't want to kill him. He didn't know what was killing him. He was so scared. So confused. I felt terrible after he died. His suffering was so great. That's why I became him. He didn't want to die. He tried so hard to cling to life. And I took it away. I couldn't live in his body, not with the guilt of how he had died. Had someone been with him. Had they not locked him in that room. I might not have done so. Most Thullids don't. Once the Elf is dead, we return to our kin. Live with the Thullids. But I could not forget how much he suffered, how alone he was when he died."
"So you stole his identity along with his life."
"I had never been in an Elf before. I was free. I had heard other Thullids, tell of the horrors an Elf suffers through, during the transition we make into their bodies, but I had never felt it before. He didn't deserve to die and neither did GhoulSpawn."
"And yet you murdered his family."
"They killed BoomFuzzy."
"You loved BoomFuzzy. Not Quaraun. Quaraun didn't know BoomFuzzy. Quaraun was already dead by that point. Quaraun, you truly have gone insane, people call you insane for a reason. You can no longer tell where the Elf ends and the Thullid begins. You've lived in that body too long. We change bodies for a reason. So we don't become attached, so we don't become them. You've lost your identity. You've stopped being a Thullid. You've become the Elf. Quaraun never loved BoomFuzzy. He never knew BoomFuzzy. You loved BoomFuzzy. Quaraun was the Elf. You are not the Elf. You are the Thullid who killed him."
"Yes."
"And you loved GhoulSpawn."
"I did."
"And now GhoulSpawn is dead."
"He is."
"I am not GhoulSpawn."
"You are. Wither you want to be or not. You took his body and now you must be him."
"I killed him."
"You did."
"Then by that logic will you not also kill me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you are GhoulSpawn."
"GhoulSpawn is dead. I am not GhoulSpawn."
"I know. And yet, here I am talking to you."
"I am not GhoulSpawn. I am the Thullid that resides in his body. Just as you are not Quaraun, but the Thullid that resides in him."
"I know."
"You are insane. You want me to be GhoulSpawn, the same way you are Quaraun. When we both belong back with our own people. Neither of us are Elves. We just live in their bodies."
"That we take their bodies is wrong."
"We can survive no other way."
"It doesn't make it right."
"Would you have every Thullid die?"
"Future Thullids will die. The Elves are dead. We killed them. There are no more Elves for our children to live in. We've killed too many Elves and now we will die."
"Let me leave this place."
"No."
"Why?"
"I already told you."
"Humans will kill you the moment they find out what you are. You must learn to be an Elf. You are living in an Elf's body, you must learn to act like an Elf, talk like an Elf, think like an Elf. You must become the Elf you killed if you are to survive and I'm not gonna let you leave here until you do."
"I'm not GhoulSpawn."
"You are now. You killed him and took his body. You didn't give him a choice. You didn't give him the option to live. You didn't give us an option to bury his body or mourn his death. And I'm not giving you to option to steal his body and do whatever the hell you want with it. You will learn to be GhoulSpawn or you will never leave here. My rose garden can be your home or your prison. That choice is yours."
"You can't keep me here."
"No? Have you ever seen BoomFuzzy's house?"
"The gingerbread house?"
"No. Not the illusion he uses to draw children in... the reality behind the illusion. The Twighlight Manor. That's what lies beyond those roses. You try to escape this garden and you'll have her to deal with. You won't even make it to the front door. She'll eat you alive. You're in my house now. You can't escape. No one does. I won't kill you. I made that promise to GhoulSpawn. But the roses will. The goldfish will. The turkeys will. And if somehow you make it past them... the house will. I only promised GhoulSpawn that I wouldn't kill you. I never said I wouldn't stand by and watch them kill you instead. Don't think that because you live in his body, I'll show you any mercy. I loved him and you took him from me and I'm not gonna forget that. I may try to be the kind, loving Elf, whose body I took, but that doesn't the fact that I'm still the Thullid who killed him. I'll never truly be Quaraun, no matter how much I try to be him. I'll be the cold hearted Pink JellyFish that murdered him and his family and you'll always the Thullid who killed my best friend."
Quaraun stood up to leave.
"We are monsters, you and I. We murder Elves and steal their bodies to survive. You can be my friend or my enemy. GhoulSpawn was my friend. His murderer is my enemy. I leave it to you to decide who you are."
~o0o~
Quaraun returned the following morning, to find the half-Elf, still sitting in the garden, staring at the path, leading to the gate, which stood guarded by pink rose bushes that had uprooted themselves and were marching around, snarling through fanged petals, ready to eat any one who dared get within vine's reach of them.
Unicorn was with Quaraun this time. He didn't trust the creature that had killed their friend. Quaraun was stupid. He let emotions cloud his thinking. Unicorn feared Quaraun was not thinking clearly when it came to this beast. He doubted Quaraun could separate the beast from the body it now lived in. His not allowing the creature to leave and his insistence on calling it GhoulSpawn, worried Unicorn to no end.
Quaraun sat on the ground beside his dead friend whose body was now animated by the alien JellyFish creature that had eaten his brain and was living in the empty skull.
"GhoulSpawn..."
"I'm not GhoulSpawn. Your friend is dead. I am not him. I'm just stuck in his body."
"I know. But I don't know what else to call you."
"I don't have a name. My mother didn't give me one."
"Your mother didn't get a chance to know you."
"She didn't want me to be born."
"That's not true. She just would have liked you to hatch inside of someone else. She didn't pick this body for you."
"I know. HellBorne did. GhoulSpawn talked of it daily. He talked to himself a lot. He was mad you know."
"He had you inside his head, eating his brain. What did you expect?"
"He tried to cut me out."
"Most Elves infested by a Thullid larvea do."
"He didn't want to kill me."
"I know. He refused to kill anything. Wouldn't even step on a bug."
"He tried to find a way to remove me, one that would let me live, free, and not trapped inside any body. He couldn't find one."
"GhoulSpawn..."
"I'm not GhoulSpawn. He is dead."
"Then what should I call you?"
"You are my mother. That's for you to decide."
"I'm gonna keep calling you GhoulSpawn, because you're in his body."
"Him did change his name," Unicorn said quietly. "In future. Does ya na remember? We dids meet him. Him had different name. Ya called him GhoulSpawn un him did said him was nay the GhoulSpawn. Just likes him is doing now. Him kept saying he was na GhoulSpawn. Said him had no used the name in years. And ya did says him were different. Was no acting himself. Maybe this is why, eh?"
"The Gremlin? Yes. I remember. He called himself the Gremlin."
Quaraun looked to GhoulSpawn.
"Are you Gremlin?"
"Am I?"
"That's the name you used in the future. I'd rather call you GhoulSpawn."
"Why?"
"I'm used to calling you GhoulSpawn."
Quaraun reached out his hand to touch the half Elf's face. GhoulSpawn flinched, as though waiting to be hit.
"Please don't be scared of me," Quaraun said soothingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I only want to help."
"You wanted to feed me to your roses, yesterday."
GhoulSpawn pointed to the sentient bushes that were still marching around the outskirts of the garden.
"Yes, I was angry. I'm not now. I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"The roses still look like they are waiting to kill me."
"Yes. They probably will. You shouldn't get near them. Not thoses ones at least. They're a bit ill tempered. Thorny ones always are. And they didn't used to be roses. They were hawthorn trees. That's why their thorns are so big. They withered up and died and I resurrected them as roses. It kind of pissed them off. They don't like being pink."
"Let me go home."
"Do you have a home to go to?"
GhoulSpawn stared down at his clasped hands and said nothing.
"Last I knew, GhouSpawn was living with HellBorne here at Black Tower. He ran off the night HellBorne died...."
"And Black Tower is now pink."
"I like pink."
"I've noticed. Every one for miles around, any where in seeing distance of this pink phallic monstrosity, knows you like pink enough to have paint Black Tower the most eye blinding shade of pink you could find."
Unicorn started laughing.
"Aye. It does look like a giant dick," the Faerie said. "Why has I never not no noticed that aforing nows? Quaraun complains about hims small dick all of time. Now hims got one five storeys tall dick in hims garden. Ha ha! That so funny. Why I no see this before?"
"Probably, because you're blind and you can't see a thing," Quaraun reminded Unicorn.
"I is no so blind I can no sees the hundred foot tall dick in ya yard. A small dicked pink wizard in hims big dicked pink tower."
"Unicorn. Shut up!"
"Ooooohhh! Bitch-iiie!"
"Go fuck yourself."
"I will! Thanking ya kindly."
Unicorn trotted off to find a log to hump.
"What is he doing?" GhoulSpawn asked.
"He's fucking a tree."
"I can see what he doing. Why... why is he doing it?"
"He's crazy, if you hadn't noticed. Somewhere in resurrecting him, I seem to have lost his brain."
"It probably has something to do with you focusing too much on giving him two dicks. Why did you resurrect him as a double dicked unicorn?"
"I don't know. I was drunk."
"You know GhoulSpawn was scared of you, right? Just terrified you was gonna mess up some spell and do something like that...." GhoulSpawn pointed to Unicorn. "To him."
"Well, at least Unicorn thinks it's wonderful. He loves being a double dicked unicorn, with only half a brain."
"Squirrel!" Unicorn screamed, as he galloped by chasing said squirrel.
"Quaraun. Your horse is barking like a dog and chasing squirrels up trees."
Quaraun shook his head.
"I'm supposed to be the one that's insane and right now everyone else is crazier then me."
Quaraun turned back to GhoulSpawn.
"Do you have a place to live?"
GhoulSpawn shook his head no.
"You can stay here. It used to be your home."
"You two didn't live here then."
"No, but we do now. Are you saying you want us to leave?"
"No."
GhoulSpawn watched the little shaggy sliver horned black Shetland pony gallop around the garden eating butterflies.
"Did he really eat HellBorne?"
"Unicorn? He eats every one. It's why I can't have any friends. I meet some body new and next thing I know he's grinding their bones into flour and baking gingerbread out of them."
"How'd you end up with a Phooka?"
"I ask myself that every day."
"He's the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley."
"He is."
"And you're an Elf."
"Well. I'm what's left of an Elf. I'm just as much Quaraun as you are GhoulSpawn."
"Would he eat me?"
"I told him not to. He's pretty good at obeying me. Usually. Sometimes. Not always."
Quaraun sighed.
"You used to be free didn't you? They said The sacred pink JellyFish was a wild Thullid. They caught her in the ocean. Kept her prisoner in goldfish fish bowl for decades, before some rebels tried to kill her and a renegade priest implaneted her in an Elf. Is that true?"
"It is. I had beautiful pink frilled ruffles all down my tentacles."
"Is that why you wear pink ruffles like this?"
"It is."
"You're a female aren't you? Living in a male Elf."
"I am."
"That must get confusing."
"It does."
The two Thullid infested Elves sat in silence and watched the hyperactive unicorn galloping wildly around the garden, stabbing dragonflies with his horn.
"Does he ever get tired?" GhoulSpawn asked.
"He's undead."
"He's a Lich, isn't he?"
"Yes. He's a Lich."
Suddenly the little black pony began shrieking hysterically, then galloped in a mad dash across the garden, towards the giant pink lighthouse, with a flock of angry bees on his tail, fast trying to catch him.
"If he's undead, why is he running from bees?"
"He still feels pain. He can still be hurt. He can be killed."
"Even though he's a Lich?"
"Yes. Even though he's a Lich."
"I thought Liches had eternal life."
"They do. But they can still die. They just automaticly resurect. They have a place they kind of pop back out of when they come back."
"Like a save point."
"A what?"
"A save point. In a video game."
"What's a video game?"
"It's a thing they have in the future. GhoulSpawn used to go to a place he called the 1980s. Aracades. He liked playing video games."
"1980s? That's a long ways away."
"What year is it now."
Quaraun shrugged.
"I don't know. It was 1400 and something, last time I checked. I don't keep track of time. I can't count. That's a regret."
"What is?"
"Elwin. Elwin died, because I didn't know math. HellBorne set up a trap. Put Elwin in it. A puzzle. Trap. Thing. I don't know what it was. But it needed math to unlock it. And I can't do math. It killed him."
"You've seen a lot of people you love die, haven't you?"
"Every one... now. GhoulSpawn was the last one. The last living friend I had left."
"You want me to be him for you, don't you? It's why you won't let me leave, isn't it?"
"You have GhoulSpawn's memories, yes?"
"Yes. I do."
"Where did he go? After they implanted him. He ran off. We couldn't find him. We searched every where. He was no where."
"He opened a portal and ran into it. Different time. Different place. Someplace HellBorne couldn't find him. He was scared. He trusted HellBorne. He thought HellBorne was his friend."
"HellBorne's dead. You're safe from him now."
"He was so scared. I don't know how to be an Elf. All I know is fear. He was so scared. I don't know what he was like before the fear took over. I think he was already scared of every thing, every one. The village he grew up in. The uncles who raised him. They abused him something terrible. And then you showed up and you killed them. The entire village. Except for him. And he was scared of you, but he was glad they were dead. He was always on the run. Never settled down. To scared to stay in any one town more then a few days. Half Elf. Humans hated him. Elves hated him. He only ever got along with Demons but he didn't fit in. And then he found HellBorne. Another half-Elf. Thought he could trust him, because he was a half-Elf. HellBorne put me in him, so I could kill him, even though I didn't want to. HellBorne was evil. Poor GhoulSpawn. His whole life was nothing but fear. Ever growing, ever mounting."
"Where did he go after that? After they implanted him? We couldn't find him."
"Into a portal. He didn't care which one. He just running scared. Opened up the first portal he came across and ran inside, found a forest, found a cave. And stayed there. Scared out of his mind. Lived on whatever he could find. Lichen mostly. Moss. Stuff growing on the rocks. He was too scared to leave the cave. He only went back, because he knew he was dying and he hoped HellBorne could undo what he'd done and somehow remove me from his brain, while he still had any brain left."
"When you say, he went into hiding.... stayed in a cave and wouldn't come out... do you mean... he was alone... the whole time?"
"Yeah. He was really scared."
"We tried to find him. We didn't know where to look. I wanted to help him." Tears filled Quaraun's eyes. "There was never any one at all?"
"No. Just me. The whole time I've been in him, I'm only one he's had to talk to. He was scared if anyone found out he was infested with a Thullid, that they cut off his head. I guess that's what Elves do when they find a Thullid infested Elf."
"It is. It's why we can never let any one know what we are. Why we must become the Elf whose body we took. Poor Ghouly. I didn't realize he'd been completely alone. We would have taken care of him. We tried to find him."
"He was scared. Too scared to even go outside. He didn't go outside of the cave for years. He just went mad. Fear drove him into hiding so deep. He was crippled with fear."
"Are you afraid?"
GhoulSpawn looked up at Quaraun.
"I don't know how not to be. It's all he did. He didn't teach me how to live with other Elves. How to do... anything. I don't know how to be an Elf. I just know how to hide in caves and be terrified of every shadow. It's all I now, because it's all he did. And he was doing it, before he was implanted. I can see his memories. His whole life was spent in fear and hiding, right from birth. Because of what he was. Half Elves are hunted by Elves and Demons alike. He belonged no where."
"He belonged here. With me and Unicorn. We would have accepted him as family. We'll accept you as family. Please. Stay with us. You're safe here. We'll take care of you. You don't have to be afraid any more."
"Fear's the only emotion I know. The first few weeks he sat on the ground pulling his hair out, clawing at his head, trying to remove.... me... after a while he gave up and just sat there doing nothing. Went back and forth between crying hysterically and talking gibberish nonsense to himself. Then he starts drawing on the walls. Writing. Numbers. Equations. He tried desperately to find a way to remove me without killing himself. Tried to find a way to remove me, without killing me. He couldn't find an answer. He did that for 3 years. I think he went insane. He was alone too long with his fears. You were the last person to talk to him before he left and the first person to talk to him, when he came back. He was glad you took him in. Those last few weeks with you, it was the only time I felt him relax. I can't remember him ever sleeping before."
"Elves can go a long time without sleep. Their bodies are different. It's why we chose Elves to live in and not Dwarves or Humans. Elves live longer. Need less sleep. Less food. We can go years without sleep. It's not recommended. But we can do it. I've done it. Made me bat shit crazy out of hell for a while. Side effect of not much sleep. I don't think he'd slept in a long time. He walked into the garden and collapsed. He was asleep for a few weeks. Poor Ghouly. He was so sick and tired and weak, when he arrived. I'd never seen him sick before. He'd gone a long time without eating, hadn't he?"
"Yeah. He was surviving off lichen he scraped off walls in the cave. He started taking weird stuff the last few weeks."
"Weird stuff? Like what?"
"This." GhoulSpawn reached into one of his endless coat pockets and pulled out a small slip of paper, perforated into tiny squares, each one with a colourful picture on it.
"What is this?" Quaraun held up the bright coloured paper.
"LSD. Freakier then opium. You'd love it. Makes dark minds colourful. Not sure what it would do to an already colourful mind like yours."
"Drugs?"
"Yeah. Drugs."
"I never saw drugs like this before?"
"Break off a square. Put it under your tongue. You neeever seen anything like it before. Guarantee it. Does take the pain away though."
"Was he in a lot of pain?"
"Yeah. He was. Started having nose bleeds every day. Headaches. He couldn't think. He couldn't do anything."
"Side effect of having a JellyFish chewing holes all through your brain. Still, never thought Ghouly would turn to drugs."
"No? Crazy Elf like him?"
"No. He hated drugs. He chided me for it all the time. He wouldn't drink. I wouldn't smoke. There was one day he flipped out at me for drinking coffee and then gave Unicorn hell for drinking tea."
"Ah. Yes." GhoulSpawn reached into his pockets and pulled out a smll navy blue book. Handed it to Quaraun. "GhoulSpawn joined a cult of some sort. Called themselves Mormons. Here have a Book of Mormon. I've got about a hundred more in my pockets. He gave 'em to every body. Weird Elf."
"What's this got to do with anything?"
"They don't allow drinking, smoking, drugs. coffee. tea, sex..."
"I suppose that explains the sheep."
"GhoulSpawn and his sheep. Yeah. I forgot about the sheep."
"So he stopped be a... a... what did you call it?"
"Mormon."
"A follower of the Demon Mormo?"
"No. But I think that's what GhoulSpawn thought it was. He liked Demons. But yeah. He stopped. The pain was so much. It crippled him. He just sat on the floor screaming and hitting himself in the head trying to make the pain stop. He was suffering for so long. I knew I was causing his pain and I hated it. I didn't want to hurt him. I certainly didn't want to kill him."
"No Thullid ever does. Most, once they realize how badly their prey is suffering, just devour their brains quickly, let them die fast. Never get to know the Elf. Don't absorb their memories. Don't become them. It's difficult to stay steady through the whole process, while the Elf is screaming in pain and trying to cut you out of their head. I hate what we have to do to them. Why is our survival dependent upon killing someone else in order to survive? Why didn't you do what most Thullids do, just kill him quick and get it over with?"
"I wanted to know who he was. I wanted to know, why thought, not to kill me, but instead, tried to find a way to remove me without hurting me. In the beginning, he could have removed me. Those first few days, when I was still just under the surface, not yet in his brain. He could have removed me. He would have lived. I would have died. He couldn't bring himself to hurt me, even though he knew it would cost him his own life to let me live. I wanted to know why he did that. Even in the end. He could have killed himself and it would have killed me too. Unicorn even suggested it. You suggested it. You both offered to kill him, if he couldn't bring himself to kill himself, but he would hear nothing of it. He wouldn't let you hurt me. He refused to take a life. Any life. Even the life of the creature that was killing him."
"GhoulSpawn was kind and gentle."
"I feel terrible, about how much he had to suffer. THE LSD mellowed him out. Took away his fears. Took away his pain. But when it wore off, it seemed like his fears were worse. His pain worse. Almost as if, the drug made it worse. So he took more. And more. He got addicted bad."
"If he never left the cave. Where'd he get the drugs?"
"He started making them. He'd taken 'em before so he had some in his pockets. He took some and figured out what they were made out of then, made them himself. He's was kind of a mad scientist."
"He was an alchemist."
"Alchemy. Yeah. I suppose that's a word for it. Built himself a lab."
"Where'd he get the supplies to build a lab?"
"Out of his pockets. I think he was a thief. I think he had a problem. Looking into his memories. I can see him. He just took things. Fruit off carts. Books off shelves. Engines off planes..."
"Planes?"
"Big flying machines they have in the future. That's where he got the name Gremlin from. I just remembered. It's what the Humans called him. He'd fall out of portals and land on planes, then rip the engines out to make then crash. Said he had to change history. Rewrite it. Make it better. He was a time traveller. He didn't like planes. Humans called him 'The Gremlin'. It means 'The Demon Who Eats Planes'. GhoulSpawn's a Demon."
"I know. He's a Chaos Demon. He tried to hide it from me, but... I... I already knew."
"Why did he pretend to be an Elf?"
"His mother was an Elf. She was kidnapped and raped by a Demon. That's why they named him GhoulSpawn."
"I have areoplane engines in my pockets."
"So he had plenty of supplies to build a lab and make drugs?"
"You'd be surprised the things he keeps in his pockets."
"No. Not really. Not after I found out about the sheep."
"My pockets are still full of sheep."
"I kind of figured they were."
"Boy was he weird."
"Lucky you. Now you get to be him. Sheep and all."
"He became a hermit, only came out the last few weeks. He'd decided to come back to Black Tower. Beg HellBorne to help him. He thought, HellBorne did it to him, maybe HellBorne knew how to undo it. He didn't know HellBorne was dead. He didn't know you lived here. He never thought to ask you for help. He was scared of you. He liked you. He liked you a lot. If you hadn't had Unicorn around, he probably would have become your lover. He really liked you a lot."
"I know he did."
"I think Unicorn scared him more then anything else."
"Are you scared of Unicorn?"
"He's volatile. Kills on a whim. He's a Phooka. Phookas are monsters. You don't make friends with something that wants to eat you."
"He's peaceful, when you get to know him."
"GhoulSpawn wanted to run away. He wouldn't have stayed here. He was just too weak to get to the door. His body is still weak. I can't move it well. I'm forced to stay here. Between you not letting me leave and this body being so weak from ill health, I can't go any where."
"You don't have to go any where. You're welcome to stay here."
"He went mad."
"You were eating his brain. Madness is a symptom of having one's brain eaten by a parasite."
"Said one Elf eating Thullid to the other."
"Speaking of eating things, I'm hungry and I know you must be, you haven't eaten anything since GhoulSpawn died. We should go inside and see if our chef wants to cook us breakfast. Besides, I need to go check on him. Make sure he hasn't been stung to death by bees."
"You're not gonna let me leave, are you?"
"No. I'm not. So you might as well get used to staying here."
Interview With EelKat
On Writing The Quaraun Series
Random Thoughts On Writing Magic &
Wizards In Fantasy Worlds
A BookTube Reading AuthorTube Edition
Volume 33:
GhoulSpawn The Crazed &
The Rose Garden of The Pink Necromancer
After being seriously injured, in Summoner of Darkness, half-Elf/half Demon, GhoulSpawn runs away. Missing for three years and feared dead, GhoulSpawn suddenly arrives at Black Tower seeking HellBorne, unaware HellBorne is dead and Quaraun now lives in the haunted lighthouse, which he has painted pink.
Overjoyed to see his friend returned, the joy is short lived as Quaraun realizes something is seriously wrong with the Sun Elf, who is rambling about being hunted by pink flying goldfish, bowls of killer chocolate pudding, and armies of pink tuxedo wearing penguins.
With GhoulSpawn's sanity fast slipping away, and his health going with it, it quickly becomes apparent that he's been infested by an alien JellyFish larvae that has burrowed into his skull and is slowly eating his brain.
Unable to save his friend, Quaraun is forced to watch while the timid and gentle GhoulSpawn the Sun Elf dies in agony and his body taken over by the violent, domineering GhoulSpawn the Thullid.
Torn over not killing the creature that has taken over GhoulSpawn''s body, the Pink Necromancer calls up and army of dead rose bushes to save the world from a Thullid invasion.
This novel picks up where Summoner of Darkness leaves off. Though can be read on it's own, the story references many event is Summoner of Darkness. Readers will find these references easier to understand if they have already read Summoner of Darkness before reading GhoulSpawn the Crazed.
The Lost Elf Returns
Lord Pinkie's Army of Killer Goldfish
A Garden Full Of Roses and Snap Dragons
Pink Elf Eating Goldfish
The Dying Elf
The Frightened Demon
Things You May Not Have Known about GhoulSpawn The Crazed
Originally titled: Quaraun The Insane Meets GhoulSpawn The Crazed.
Though numbered as a later volume in the series, this is actually one of the very first Quaraun stories ever written, and was in fact the first story to feature Quaraun with his title "Quaraun the Insane"
GhoulSpawn's character was inspired by a car I owned in the 1980s. A 1974 AMC Gremlin. Orange with glow in the dark neon yellow flames painted on the sides. Thus why he wears orange and has phosphorescent neon yellow hair.
In The Twighlight Manor Series: The time travelling mad scientist known as The Gremlin, is a much older and now mentally unstable, GhoulSpawn of the Quaraun Series
GhoulSpawn's character was actually created before Quaraun's, with him being one of the primary characters from The Wild Years, a 1987 novella of The Twighlight Manor Series.
He was originally created in 1982 as the Chief Science Officer on board the star ship, The VISION-D8, and was Captain Goldeneagle's best friend. Both of who worked in service to Planet Ptarmigan's Queen Miss Kitten The Eel-Kat.
GhoulSpawn is one of only three characters to appear in every spin-off series of The Twighlight Manor Series. Him being a primary character of each series. EelKat and Spriggan being the other two.
The Twighlight Manor Series says he opened the portals to allow Flamites (High Elves) the ability to travel between their houses (Twighlight Manor, Black Tower, and White Rock) without detection by Humans.
The Planet Ptarmagin Series says he opened the portals to help the Ptarmagin Kats have a way to travel from one galaxy to another in the blink of an eye.
The Quaraun Series says he opened the portals in search of his father, a Chaos Demon known as "The Ghoul".
The Chrystonite Series says he opened the portals to go back in time and stop the Battle of Ongadada from happening.
The reality: GhoulSpawn was born and raised in Hell, after his Sun Elf mother was kidnapped and raped by a Chaos Demon. He is unable to stay in any one time period or dimension long, due to his not having been born in a physical plane of existence. His presence in any time or place causes rips in the fabric of reality, known as "portals", which cause people to fall into worlds and times they do not belong in, inadvertently changing history no matter where he goes. He spends his entire life desperately trying to find a way to close up these portals and prevent new ones from opening.
This novel was originally written on: 2012
This page last updated on: April 04, 2017
On Writing The Quaraun Series
World-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Weird-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Building A Magic System In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Wizards vs Witches vs Sorcerers: How are they different?
- Magic Systems and How to Build Them
- Necromancy: How will resurrection affect society as a whole?
- Spell-casting Side Effects of Magic
- Necromancy FAQ - A Real Necromancer Compares Fantasy Necromancy With The Reality
- Colour Magic - Gypsy Style
- Beware of White Men In Gypsy Clothing: Fake Psychic Scams
- Child Sacrifice in Fantasy Novels
Plotting & Writing Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Ernest Hemingway Style of Writing Literary Fiction Used In Epic Fantasy Novels
- Do you write a novel start-to-finish?
- Ideas, Ideas, Ideas (Where Do You Get Them?)
- Should I plan for ending or just keep writing?
- NaNoWriMo Overachievers: How did you do it?
- How Long is 50,000 Words?
- Why Write 50,000 Words In 30 Days?
- How long does it take to hit 1667 words?
- Average Typing Speed
Character Creation In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Writing Sex In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Disabled Characters In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Drug Use In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Horror In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
Note: there are likely spelling errors on this site, and I am unlikely to see the ... I fix them when I find them, but, there are many issues here...
Note: English is not my first language, Shetlean Scottish is my native language, there are likly spelling and grammar errors, as I do not know American English and am attempting to write it by sounding words out.
Many times that Americans think a word on my site is misspelled, often it is not misspelled, it is just I mixed up languages and wrote it in Scottish without realizing I mixed the Scottish in with the English. Also our grammar is somewhat reversed from English grammar so words that are seeming in the wrong order for American English, is usually because they are in the correct order for Scottish and I either put English words in Scottish order by mistake or was unaware English put them in a different order then Scottish does.
For those unaware, Scottish Shetlean looks like this:
American English to Scottish:
a bit (piece) = a party --- EXAMPLE: "And some know a bit of Latin " > "And somme kan of latyn a party "
a long distance from = A piece fae
a piece of = the bit --- EXAMPLE: "The duck ate a piece of bread " > "The deuk ett the bit breid "
about the banks (on the shore/at the beach) = aboot da banks
accomplishments = kunnandi
After = Back o --- EXAMPLE: " After Halloween" > "Back o Hallomas "
alive (living) = kvikr
Always on the move = Never aff o da go
am I not = amn't I --- EXAMPLE: "Am I not invited? " > "I amn't invited? or Amn't I invited?"
are = is --- EXAMPLE: "Are you going soon?" > "Is ya to be going soon?"
autumn = dah haihst
belong to = fylgja
best = bettah moost
betray (verb) = svíkja
bewildered = villhyggjandi
building = biggin up --- EXAMPLE: "building confidence in everyday use " > " biggin up confidence in ivvryday øs "
built = builded --- EXAMPLE: "He built a new porch." > "Hims builded a new porch."
cast a spell = hoodooed
cat = kat (sounds like "caught") --- EXAMPLE: "Is it an orange cat?" > "Be he a o'jinn kat?"
child = bairn
church = kirk
color = colour
danger = hœttr
daren't = darena
daring = djarfr
dark = dökk
dark elf = Dökkálfr
dark-elves = Døkkálfar
darker = dökká
do you agree = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "That's a fine looking woman, do you agree?" > "Dair's ah right bonnie lass, eh?"
do you want to come too = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "I'm going to the store, do you want to come with me?" > "Me go to shope, eh?"
each = eche --- EXAMPLE: "Which each person can understand " > "That kan eche man understonde "
educated = lered --- EXAMPLE: "Both among the educated and the uneducated " > "As wel among lered as lewed "
elf = Alfr
Elf = Álfr
Elf Home = Álfheimr
Elf World = Álfheimr
elf-advice = Ælfred
elf-beautiful = ælfscyne
elf-friend = Ælfwine
elf-guardian (female) = Ælfwaru
elf-guardian (male) = Ælfweard
elf-powerful = Ælfric
everyday = ivvryday
eyelids = eye ledes --- EXAMPLE: "He closed his eyelids." > "Hims did shut hims eye ledes"
fair = faire --- EXAMPLE: "Going to the fair." > "Done gone went to the faire."
feild = felde --- EXAMPLE: "Standing in the feild." > "Stoodt in thems felde."
further = ferther --- EXAMPLE: "I looked further." > "I dids lokid ferther."
green = grene --- EXAMPLE: "Look at the green hedges and woods." > "Look see at thems heigges and holtz so grene."
handsome = braw --- EXAMPLE: "He is very handsome " > "Him wicked braw "
have faith = trúa
Have no doubts about our doing it = Nae faer o wis
Have no liking for this. = Hae nae brou o this.
have not = ain't
He knows how many beans make five. = He kens the laid frae the croun o the causey.
He knows which side his bread is buttered on. = He kens whilk side his bannock's buttert on.
Head for = Mak wye for
head rope in fishing nets and lines = baak
head to head = Be at the knag and the widdie
horse fly = klegsie
I = Me
I Think = Me thinks --- EXAMPLE: "I think we're late. " > "Me thinks that we is late. "
I wish you well for the future = Lang may yer lum reek (translation: Long may your chimney smoke)
idiot = eejit --- EXAMPLE: "You idiot." > "Ya eejit."
idiot = numpty
if = iffy or yif--- EXAMPLE: "If you don't mind..." > "Iffy yas does no care mind...."; "If you'll stay with me long enough = "Yif ye so longe with me wil dwelle". "
I'll be even with you = A'll see day aboot wi ye
know = ken
looked = lokid
looked = lokid --- EXAMPLE: "I looked up." > "I lifte up me eye ledes and lokid ferther."
magic = hoodoo
naked = nøkkviðr
needle = bodkin
neither = nouther --- EXAMPLE: "Who know neither Latin nor French " > "That kan nouther latyn ne frensch "
No = Nay --- EXAMPLE: "No, I don't think so. " > "Nay, me thinks not. "
Nobody knew = not-knew nobody
Noontide = Da heicht o da day
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "Did you meet the new family next door?" > "Dids ya gets a chance to stop by and meets with thems new folk that move-ed in down yawn there next doors to ya, eh?"
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "He went to Rite-Aid to pick up his prescription" > "Hims did go to that yawn there new fangled store the new folks call that Rite Aid place, to gets himself some of thems there pills what the doctor gone and tells him to take each morning, a-yep, hims did."
old = olde --- EXAMPLE: "But educated and uneducated, old and young " > "Bot lered and lewed olde and yonge "
orange = o'jinn
out = oot --- EXAMPLE: "The cat wants to go out." > "The kat he do wants oot."
outside = oot dair
people = fokk --- EXAMPLE: "the people of Shetland " > "Shetland fokk "
people = folke --- EXAMPLE: "Look at all those people." > "Lookie at all thems folke."
poorly = febelly --- EXAMPLE: "Who know French very poorly " > "That kan frensch ful febelly "
Recognising = Recognisin --- EXAMPLE: "Recognising the bilingual nature of Shaetlan speakers " > "Recognisin da wye at Shaetlan spaekers is bilingual "
shield = skjoldr
Since = For --- EXAMPLE: "Since that is your native language " > "For that is youre kynde langage "
tell = telle --- EXAMPLE: "I'll tell you in English " > "In englysch tonge I schal you telle "
the = da, de, or is not used at all --- EXAMPLE: "I went to the store" > "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to shoppe"
them = dem, dem dair --- EXAMPLE: "I went with them" > "Me goes wit dem dair"
there = dair --- EXAMPLE: "I want those potatoes" > "Me be wanting dem dair tatetas."
they = dey
To where = whither --- EXAMPLE: ""Where you go, I will go." " > ""Whither thou goest, I'll go."
understand = understonde
understand = understonden --- EXAMPLE: "Some understand English " > "And somme understonden englysch "
very = wicked --- EXAMPLE: "very good" > "wicked good"; "very bad" > "wicked bad"; "very cold" > "wicked cold"
Where = Whither --- EXAMPLE: "Where is the restroom? " > "Whither is the privy?"
Yes = Yea or Aye --- EXAMPLE: "Yes, I think so. " > "Yea, me thinks so. " or "Aye, me thinks so. "
For anyone actually interested in learning my native language, the Scottish government has THIS listed as the official dictionary of our people: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/61d7352954b7fd1c9dbdfef4/t/65ddb2749d5e0541a01009c0/1709027964496/Spaektionary_2024feb.pdf
The Scottish government provides this document to show our language in use: https://www.shetland.uhi.ac.uk/t4-media/one-web/uhi-shetland-images-and-documents/documents-/shaetlan/Shaetlan-Language-Plan-2022-Shaetlan.pdf
More information about our language can be found on this website: https://www.iheardee.com which is written in my native language.
However, there is also other reasons why words might be misspelled, or why I might not understand someone when they speak to me.
My grandmother Helen Ricker Allen, was from Unst, Shetland, Scotland, and she the one who raised me. She taught me to read and write, but it was Shetlain that she taught me. She died when I was 8 years old, and I was locked in a woodshed after her furneral, I escaped the woodshed 27 years later at age 31, and have been trying to learn how to speak and write English since then.
It is a very great struggle.
At age 37 I took remidial reading and speaking classes at Southern Maine Community College, but we are Gypsies and Gypsy men do not allow us Gypsy women to have education, and so, while at college, on November 14, 2013, I was beaten with a golf club, while I was 8 months pregnet, breaking my spine, hips, and knees, killing my baby and leaving me quardepaleic since.
Now my primary focus these past 13 years has been on relearning to use my hand so I could type... as of 2023, I have regained the use of my right thumb, and first two right fingers, and after 10 years offline, I am back online due to I can use three finguers.
I never went to school, so I do not know maths and numbers and sciences, and I do not know what else would have been taught to me in school. We are Scottish Gypsies and Gypsy culture does not allow females to go to school. Being born female was already a great sin, but my grandmother took great risk in teaching me reading and writing. At 4 years old I was punished by my Uncle Bruce for knowing how to read, by being beaten in the face with a cinder block brick, that broke my right jaw and left me with garbaled near-mute spoken words ever since.
Because no one ever spoke words to be face to face from he time I was 8 years old until I was 37 years old (I escaped the room at age 27, but did not start college until 37), I have no training in how to vocally sound out or speak the words I write or read. I can read words, but I do not know how to sound out or say those words. I can write words, but I do not know how to match the written word against the spoken word. I struggle to associate spoken words at all, or make them match up with writen words.
Esentially, written words and spoken words are two completly seperate languages in my brain, and I have difficulty understanding spoken words.
If you say a sentance to me with your mouth, chances are very high I will have ZERO understanding of what you said and I will not be able to ander you.
However, if you WRITE down that exact same sentabnce, I can understand you and can type a written responce to you.
My doctors tell me this is a side effect of extreme isolation and neglect and lack of human contact during my toddler, childhood, teen, and young adult years, and that my brain never deveoloped to comprehend spoken vocal words due to no one ever speaking to me in over three decades of the first half of my life.
While I can read and write, American English (somewhat) I do no know how words are sounded out, what they are supposed to sound like. I readand write by shape recognition, not by sound/vocal recognition, so when reading and writing I do no "hear the words in my head" as I am told most people do when they read and write. In other words... I see "c a t" and think "c-a-t" I do not think "cat" nor do I "see" an image of a cat, no do I "hear" the word cat spoken. I'm told that this is very rare and that most people read and write by sounding out the words and linking them to visual mind images, while hearing the sound of the word in their head. I neiher hear words in my head no see images of things in my head. I'm told this is what makes me both a speed reader and speed writer, because I'm not tripped up by hear sounds or seeing images in my head like nomal people would be doing... however, I'm also told this is why my spelling and grammar are very poor, because my brain is not hear the sounds of the words or seeing visual images of the objects the words represent, so my mind also does not register spelling and grammer errors at all.
As I was only let out of the woodshed on Sundays to go to the Cape Elezabeth Ward Church of the August Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I was never allowed to go to school or hospital either. No adults ever talked to me because I was evil for comitted the sin of being born female, so I never learned how to speak properly and do not know how to sound out words to say them.
I was 42 years old, in 2016 when, while having an MRI for my spine, the doctors found out my speak issue was caused by a broken jaw as a toddler that was healed wrong because not being allowed to go to doctors. I had surgury to fix that, and since 2016 have been trying to learn how to use my jaw and touge so I can speak vocal words now.
Since 2023 my primary focus shifted to relearning to walk. I can now, in 2026, sit up for 2 or 3 hours a day, and can sand with a cane for a few minutes, and can walk for around five thousand feet in 2 to 3 segments a day, with the help of pushing my wheelchair like a walker.
As of 2026, with a slight return to using my fingers and legs, I am once again focused on trying to learn the American English, but I live in mortal fear of my uncles and male cousins, as they are so hateful of allowing me to have education.
have no one to help me to know if I am doing words correctly, and as such, I have no way of knowing if there are spelling and grammar errors, but I asume there are, and I fix them when I learn them, but I do not know what I do not know and spelling American words is a thing I do bnot know.
I have Low Fucntioning Kanner's Syndrom, also known as "RainMan Type of Autism" aka REAL and ACTUAL Autism, not to be confused with Aspergers, High Functioning Autism, or and of thr 861 illnesses on the Autism Spectrum. An Autism Spectrum Disorder is an illness that has symptoms similar to Autism but IS NOT Autism. If you have an Autism Spectrum Disorder, it LITERALLY MEANS you do NOT have Autism.
I am medically diagnosed as "kanner's syndrome, actual autism, the rainman type, profoundly retarded autistic savant, with a general IQ of 73, and an writing IQ of 221" but they added that they did not know how to properly diagnose me as I am "technically a feral child" and they don't know "how much is the autism, and how much is simple horrific levels of abuse and neglect induced post traumatic stress disorder that will go away with proper socilization".
It means I know how to write, I can write a lot, and it is next to impossible for you to teach me how to do literally anythig else because my brain only knows how to write and doesn;t know how to do anything else..
There's a reason, when I do book signings, people are quick to say: "Okay, what's the joke? why is this stupid retard here? where's the real author? I know this retard isn't the author. where are you hiding the author, why is this fucking retard here"
The end result is, I have near zero social interaction... my 3 years in college was the ONLY face to face interaction I have ever had with humans in my entire life, and I struggle deeply to understand MOST words used by MOST people when they ask me question. And so I suffer from a huge lack of understanding many words people say to me, how to translate those words into spelling, and how to translate what it is that has been said.
The fact remains hat until there exists a human on this planet who is willing to sit down and teach me what words spoken line up with and match what words written, this deficent is unlily to improve. But the fact also remains, that I am simply far too profoundly retarded for anyone to even try to make any attempt at all even to speak a friendly "hgelloe" or "good morning" when passing me on the street, so I have lost all hope of anyone ever either being my friend, being willing to teach me how to match spoken words to written words, or how to speak to other humans.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.
I also write on these locations: | Amazon | Ao3 | Blogger | GumRoad | Medium | Notd | OnlyFans | Tumblr | Vocal |
Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....
... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.
While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.
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My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since. |
The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.
Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.
Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.
Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.
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The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.  If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.
Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.
Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.
Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.
In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.
Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.
But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.
I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.
Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.
Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.
I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.
My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.
Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Important:
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There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
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If you encounter a page which asks for a password, no, you can not request access. There are over 2k pages of this website set to password access, due to the ongoing FBI investigation into my son's murder. If you are a police officer authorized access these pages but do not have the passwords, let me know, I will deliver the passwords to the specific pages you are allowed to access, to you via the Portland FBI office and you can pick them up from the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation.
Pages where you can find out more information on that:
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IMPORTANT NOTE: There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
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Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) Yes, I am aware there are a lot of spelling errors on this site. No, I likely will not be fixing most of them. I have been quadriplegia/paralyzed arms and legs since November 14, 2013; As of 2026, I have regained use of two fully functional fingers on my right hand, and only stiff limited movement of all remained eight fingers. This causes most of the typos and spelling errors as my near-dead pinky and ring fingers tend to drag over the other letters on the keyboard. Attempts to correct errors, often causes more errors for the same reason. Much of my writing is also speech to text, but I have "profound low functioning, non-verbal kanner's syndrome aka autism aka the rainman type" (that is what the medical diagnosis called it), I have the medically diagnosed retarded type of autism, that medical doctors mean when they say "real and actual autism", I do not have the cool trend self diagnoses tiktok type of "autism". What this means is, in spite of five decades of trying, I have very limited vocal speaking abilities and a lower then average vocabulary, that leaves my speaking ability around the level of a 4 or 5 year old child; I do not know math or money or clocks and. I also, was raised by a Shetland Scottish Grandmother (Helen Ricker Allen) until her death when I was 8 years old, and she did not speak American, she spoke Shetland/Scottish, Shetlandic, which is a Nordic language, different from Scotts Language, not related to Gaelic which is what many Scottish speak, and while classified as a type of Scottish English is is considered "Olde medieval Norse" dialect of Scottish English and spoken by fewer then two thousand people as of 2026. It is the language of Scottish Travelling Gypsies, which is what we racial are. I was 31 years old first time I ever heard American English, and only started to learn American English at 42 years old. Right now in 2026 at 51 years old, I am able to speak American English on around the level of an 8 year old child, and greatly do not understand over 90% of American words, American slang, and American media references. What this means is, OFTEN words you think are spellt wrong (like color vs colour, or traveling vs travelling, are in fact NOT spelt wrong, because I use Scottish spellings) and often when I hear an American word, I spell it phonetically because I do not know the correct American spelling. Likewise we Scottish do not have words like my or your, and so say me and you, in places where Americans would say my and your. I also use Scottish word meanings, not American word meanings, for example Unicorn means a blood thirsty flesheating shapeshifting sea creature that comes on land and pretends to be a wounded horse to lure in humans to eat, it can only be captured by a virgin. But when I say Unicorn, a word I frequently use, because I write Unicorn folkloric short stories... I find that most Americans connect Unicorns to children's cartoons, gay pride, or swinging sex lives... I struggle to understand who in their right mind thought the most bloodthirsty monster of Scotland folklore was good fodder for children's cartoons or "sex positive" mascots, me thinks Americans need to brush up on the lore of Unicorns using their horns as sword to stabbed people's eyes out, while gallopping through swamps with rows of bloody Human heads hanging from their backs via braids made of Human entrails... really, why did Americans thinks a monster like a Unicorn was fit for children's cartoons or sex positivity? Americans is weird. All this to say... speech to text software, struggles badly with my thick Shetland accent, my slurred Autism speech impediment, and causes additional misspellings and typos because it can not figure out what words I am trying to say. And while I could take the time time to run all of it through a spell checker, that does require better hand mobility then I have, to copy the text from one program to the next and manually click each word, with finger mobility that I simply do not have, but also, most of my time is spent in trying to relearn to walk, and if you are local, you've probably seen this as I'm a stubborn bitch who refused to accept the doctor disnosis that I will never walk again, so, I walk around the block every day pushing my wheelchair, refusing to sit in my wheelchair, and... ...it's taking me 13 years to do it, but, I'm not actually able to stand up and make it all the way around the block now, and my focus on trying to relearn to walk is far more important to me, then catering to your pampered arse by fixing spelling errors, when there are far bigger problems to worry about in life, the spelling errors made by a quadriplegic who is typing this with her only two functioning fingers. Also, in recent years, I've watched the internet devolve into a mindless clusterfuck of ChatGPT written everything. Everyone sounds the same online these days, because no writes their own work anymore. Every website out there has become a carbon copy of each other, because they are all be written by ChatGPT now. I think ChatGPT makes a funny thing to chat with in your spare time, so you can laugh at the hilarity of how inaccurate it's responses are... but I am horrified that people are using AI for serious writing, writing they publish and try to pass off as their own. We live in a society where people people are forgetting how write. Heck I can read and write cursive, calligraphy, italic, short hand, and editor's marks, also edit my books by hand diagraming every sentence, and that... start walking around your neighbourhood and ask anyone under 30 if they sentence diagraming IS, let alone how to do it. So yes, I CAN spell check, and no I don't, for anything but my novels and short story collections, I spell check when it matters... and this is a website, not a printed book... but also, I am just getting so damn fucking fed up with endless AI writing online, so, no, I'm not going to fix errors and typos on my website, and you can bitch about that all you want (yes, I do get your messages, I just don't answer anyone in private) but, honey, maybe instead of bitching over my spelling errors, be thankful is still at least one website on the internet that still being written by a Human now in 2026 when ChatGPT writes over 70% of all posts online. |
Looking for my annual NaNoWriMo Prompts and Dares? I've been publishing these every year since 2004!
 The Park Bench Method of Writing The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane: Paperpacks & Hardcover Editions on Amazon:
Not sure what the series is about? Check out and Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post and Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers and How well do I know Quaraun? - Let's find out! to find out more about the plot and lore of the series. Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:
Or if after reading those, you still are looking for more free to read stories, there are over three thousand of them on this site, too many to list here, but here a few dozen to get you started... ...you can just jump in and try reading some of the free to read online stories first before committing to buying the books:
Hmmm... soooo... I was making the above list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here, and adding it into the footer of my site, here as you can see, which loads on every page, and then I realized... wait... there are over two thousand Pink Necromancer stories up free to read on my website, I can't put two thousand links on every single page! Whoops! LOL! So, now I'm putting list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here on this page instead and just link that page to the footer instead. But also I'll just leave some of the links in the footer, as you can see above.
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
The Space Dock 13 WebRing
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Yes, this website (founded in 1996) is old enough to have WebRings on it, and they are still in use.
Don't know what a WebRing is?
They were how we webmasters used to get traffic to our websites before the invention of search engines (aka before Jeeves, DogPile, Yahoo. Google, Bing, or the rest existed). In their simplest form a WebRing is an html code that rotates link displays. In their more advanced form they are java scripts that give random results. Each ring had three active links titled "Previous", "Random", and "Next", clicking any of the 3 links would take you to the next website in the ring.
Web Rings are the REASON the internet was called "the world wide web". To use them, each webmaster submitted their site to the ring, a single code held 100 websites, and codes could be stacked to hold 100 code sets (or 10,000 links to 10,000 websites), each web master in the list, would then place the code in the footer of their website.
This created the SPIDER WEB that was the literal WEB OF LINKS that gave the internet it's name "World Wide Web" and is WHY websites are CALLED "web sites". And technically, your site is not a WEB site unless it is connected to a WEBRing, likewise you technically are not a WEBMaster if you do not build WEBrings links for you WEBsite to connect to the WEB.
Unfortunately, most knowledge of WebRings, and whi sites were called WEBsites and sites on the WEB were called the World Wide Web, vanished from the internet in 2014 when the official WebRing.org company who managed 90%+ of the internet's WebRings went out of business after the infamous Google Panda 2013 bot attack that delisted ALL websites from the Google Index if they contained a WebRing of links to other websites in it's footer.
And while most sites abandoned the use of WebRing Codes on their sites, Space Dock 13 did not. The Space Dock 13 WebRing remains active, now 28 years after it's creation. Over the decades however, one by one all the other websites in the ring have gone off line, and as they did, I replaced the url with a link to a page of my own website (as this is a java code - it updated on every website without the others needing to change anything). Today in 2026, eelkat.com is the last remaining website in the ring, and now all 10k links go only to pages on eelkat.com, no longer sending you to other websites.
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The Park Bench Method of Writing
IMPORTANT NOTE:
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
Want even more writing prompts?
Do you have information about my son's murder and need the FBI contact information:
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322
If anyone contacts you saying 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, is for sale, know that they are lying to you... it is my land, and it has been in my family since 1531... and the ONLY person whom has EVER gone around saying it is for sale, is a woman who the FBI believes to be the same woman who murdered my son.
My son is buried here, and the FBI believes she is trying to buy my land in order to destroy his grave and destroy evidence of his murder.
Since my son's murder November 14, 2013, every year dozens of real estate agent show up all with a story of a female developer who is offering them MILLIONS of dollars for my lot of land that is only 1/4 of an acre and is not big enough to develop.
When shown police sketches of my son's murderer, the real estate agents say "Yes, that's the woman who hired me to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine", but then the woman disappears and the real estate agents never hear from her again... all contact information she gave them turns out to be fake.
The woman who murdered my son, is DESPERATELY trying to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... this is the woman to watch out for... and this is what she did:
Looking to find out more about my son's murder, that information is on these pages:
Answering the questions:
Can you give me links to the news reports of your son's murder?
and
Why can't I find any news reports about this?
Maine has well over a thousand murder cases that have never been in the news.
I found this out after my son was murdered November 2013, and a year later I found out it had never been in the news, even though I was hounded for weeks by news people. I went to each of the over a dozen TV stations and newspapers whom had showed up at the hospital and asked why they had never published any report after all the trouble they had gone through to (in some cases illegally) het into the hospital to interview me.
in every case they said some version of "well, it just wasn't news worthy, there was nothing we could use to get views". Really? These were big news stations, channel 13, 6, 8, Portland Press Herald, Bangor Daily...
What exactly was it they claimed was "not news worthy"?
I'll tell you.
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. At Southern Maine Community College in the parking lot of The Buglight Art Studio beside the Spring Point Lighthouse.
I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Oh yeah, and I've been quadriplegic for 13 years.
oh yeah one more thing, same trio, they also found out where i lived in Old Orchard Beach and drove a backhoe over my house as well.
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146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine... July 4, 2013 vs August 8, 2013 |
I have been homeless and quadriplegic for 13 years, and right now it's just a few weeks away from both my son's 14th birthday and the 14th anniversary of the day he was murdered, both of which happened the same day.
Explain to me what about any of that is "not newsworthy"?
I did find out WHY it was deemed not newsworthy. "it would negatively impact tourism" was their reason. The College at Fort Prebble is a tourist destination. The lighthouse at the college is a tourist destination. My house on Portland ave is situated on the primary road to the beach that is a tourist destination.
The news reporters explained to me that, they risked losing their jobs if they publicised "negative news" occurring in these sorts of tourist destination spots.
My son's murder wasn't in the news, because it might cause tourists to stop visiting that lighthouse. That was the reason the reporters gave me.
How often are there things not being reported on just so businesses don't lose tourist money?
How often does this happen? A lot, I've since found out. In trying to find other mothers of murdered children to interact with... I found five others JUST in Old Orchard Beach, whom the murders were not in the news, and all of them happened after my son's murder. I found 2 such mothers in Scarbourogh, their children's murders not in the news. I found over a dozen more in the Bar Harbore area, also all not in the news.
It's a very disturbing trend here in Maine, one that I never would have found out about had my own son not been murdered.
One thing's very clear: in Maine you can get away with murdering a child, if you do it in a big tourist location, because news stations REFUSE to report any crime occurring in tourist locations.
Fuck torists.
I don't give a shit about your precious tourist money.
My son was murdered and I want his killer found... and I am VERY displeased with the deplorable way news stations try to bury child murders in Maine, just to appease tourist funded businesses.
And if you're one of those lunatic jackass bullshitting alien abduction UFO freaks, looking for haunted cars, Stephen King, cryptids, or EBEs, first off, you can go fuck yourselves. I am so damned sick of you conspiracy brained motherfuckers harassing my family and turning my son's murder case into a circus of you psycho deranged bullshit. Here's some pages for you:
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