Marsh Serenity Reflection

🌸{A Pink Necromancer Kishōtenketsu} 🦄🌸

Quaraun sat on a cold, rocky beach, the frigid ocean breeze tugging at his resplendent pink silk robes. His cane was firmly planted in the spongy wet sand at his side, and he leaned on it heavily, staring out at the icy waves crashing against the shore. The fractured moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie, broken reflection on the water’s surface. The sun was setting, painting the horizon with a palette of grim oranges and purples, a stark contrast to the bleak world they inhabited.

Despite the harsh chill, Quaraun had come to this desolate spot to find a moment of solitude. The beach was strewn with skeletal remains of ancient trees, their twisted forms reaching out like the fingers of drowned giants. The scent of decaying seaweed mingled with the musty fragrance of the damp earth, creating a pungent aroma that Quaraun found oddly comforting.

He pulled out a small, worn notebook from his pink beaded heart shaped bag of holding, its pages filled with sketches and notes in his elegant handwriting. With a sigh, he took out a quill and dipped it into a vial of ink, the movement slow and deliberate. He had been working on a limerick, a rare moment of frivolity for the necromancer, but one that he cherished nonetheless.

The world around him seemed to fade as he focused on the task at hand. His silver hair, flowing like a river of moonlight, shimmered in the dying light of the sun. He began to write, the scratch of the quill on the parchment the only sound besides the relentless crash of the waves.

“There was an old Elf, all in pink,

Whose thoughts on the beach did sink.

He pondered the moon,

In the light of the noon,

And sipped on his absinthe drink.”

Quaraun read over the lines, a small, satisfied smile curling his lips. He seldom indulged in such light-hearted pursuits, but there was something liberating about crafting a simple verse amidst the doom and gloom of their dystopian existence. He closed the notebook, letting the tranquillity of the moment wash over him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the sand, Quaraun felt a rare sense of peace. For a brief moment, the world seemed less hostile, the future less foreboding. He leaned back, allowing the cold sand to support him, and watched as the last vestiges of daylight disappeared, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the ever-present whisper of the ocean. The overcast sky and muted light create a serene and somewhat sombre atmosphere, adding to the overall sense of calm in the natural setting.

Quaraun looked up, gazing at the riverlet draining out of the marsh into the ocean. Three birds, glossy ibises, waded in shallow water. The birds, with their slender, curved beaks and dark plumage, shimmered a red, green, and blue glossy sheen in the setting sunlight. They foraged along the muddy banks of the water, which was bordered by lush, tall green grasses. Their curved beaks dipping into the mud in search of clams. Just above the sandy bank, the vibrant greenery of the shrubs and grass created a vivid contrast with the golden hue of the sunlight.

The forest in the background was dense with a mix of different tree species, including tall pines and deciduous trees. The pine trees have a rich green colour, while the deciduous trees display a spectrum of greens, yellows, and golds, enhanced by the sunlight. The light filtering through the trees created a delicate interplay of shadows and highlights, emphasizing the texture of the foliage.

The contrast between the smooth sandy bank, the rocky shore, and the calm, reflective water created a balanced and harmonious composition. The warm tones of the sunlight enhancing the natural colours of the landscape, making the scene appear almost magical in its serenity and beauty.

Quaraun closed his leather-bound notebook, tucking his quill into the loop on the cover. The air was thick with the scent of the marsh, a mingling of salt, seaweed, and the musty, earthy aroma of mud exposed by the retreating tide. He scanned the horizon, wondering where BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn had wandered off to.

BoomFuzzy’s hakama and tartan were draped over a weathered log, his kimono girded up as he waded into the mud, searching for fresh clams. His hands moved with practiced precision, despite his blindness, feeling the cool mud and detecting the tiny air holes the clams left behind. The trio of glossy ibis followed close behind him, their sleek bodies shimmering in the sunset. And their long curved beaks dipping into BoomFuzzy’s pail to steal clams, every time his back was turned.

In the tall marsh grass, GhoulSpawn was muttering to himself, fussing about the sticky mud and the overpowering smell of low tide. His large, bulky frame was an awkward sight amidst the delicate green stalks, his glasses fogging slightly from the humidity.

Quaraun rose gracefully, despite the soft, uneven ground, and made his way through the tall dune grass toward GhoulSpawn. The grass brushed against his pink silk robes, and he could hear the distant call of a loon, its eerie cry cutting through the evening stillness before it dove underwater, searching for fish.

“Glinta, why do you always complain about the mud?” Quaraun asked as he approached GhoulSpawn.

“It’s not the mud, it’s the smell,” GhoulSpawn replied, wrinkling his nose. “And the egrets. They’re everywhere, catching eels and making a racket.”

“What’s wrong with bird calls?”

“I can’t think. There’s too much noise.”

“Perhaps you should stop thinking.”

“I can’t stop thinking. My mind doesn’t work that way.”

Quaraun smiled softly, finding GhoulSpawn’s disdain amusing.

“You should appreciate the beauty of it all. Look at the small green crabs scuttling between the boulders, and the piping plovers running along the water’s edge, pulling sandworms from the sand.”

GhoulSpawn sighed.

“Look!” Quaraun went on. “Notice the way the evening light plays off the marsh pools, where alewives and chubs swam in lazy circles. The fresh, green scent of the tall grass was almost soothing, a reminder of simpler times.”

They sat on a large, flat weather worn slate rock, watching BoomFuzzy dig clams with an effortless grace.

“How is it that he knows exactly where to dig without seeing the air holes?” GhoulSpawn pondered aloud.

Quaraun shrugged.

“He’s always been good at things like that. I suppose his other senses make up for his blindness. Plus, he wasn’t always blind. He lost his sight as he got older. And he’s always been a chef. And he loves seafood. And he’s been daily digging fresh clams for his chowder, for three centuries now. You do something long enough it becomes second nature.”

GhoulSpawn nodded, lost in thought.

The tranquillity of the scene was a stark contrast to the chaotic world they often found themselves in. Here, in the clam flats of Silent Moore, there was a rare peace.

The glossy ibis continued their silent, stealthy thievery, and Quaraun couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Those birds are quite the opportunists.”

“They’re smart,” GhoulSpawn agreed. “They know BoomFuzzy won’t chase them off.”

A white egret flew overhead, landing gracefully in the shallows, its long neck darting down to catch an eel. The loon’s shriek echoed again, a haunting call that seemed to belong to another world.

Quaraun leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, soaking in the calm. It was a rare gift, these quiet moments in the marsh, away from the turmoil and strife that often surrounded them. He felt the rough texture of the rock beneath him, the dampness of the air, and the gentle warmth of the sun breaking through the evening fog.

“Let’s sit here a while longer,” Quaraun said softly. “Let’s enjoy this.”

GhoulSpawn nodded, and together they watched as BoomFuzzy continued his work, the glossy ibis ever watchful, continuing the steal clams out of his bucket, and the marsh life bustling around them in a symphony of quiet, soothing sounds.

Quaraun and BoomFuzzy

The Pink Necromancer, Moon Elf silk weaver & merchant: Quaraun on Noodle Beach. His master chef Phooka turned Lich husband: BoomFuzzy with his 1968 VW Bus Beach Noodle Food Truck. And their on again/off again mad scientist Sheep Demon lover: GhoulSpawn with his 1974 AMC Gremlin time machine. Time Travel setting swings back and forth between 40th century Maine after a comet hit the moon decimating the planet, and the 1970s, Maine. Quaraun in the main character, he and BoomFuzzy are a married gay couple. GhoulSpawn is their shared live-in lover. Art by Wendy Christine Allen.

BoomFuzzy

Quaraun

GhoulSpawn and BoomFuzzy

GhoulSpawn

GhoulSpawn and Quaraun

Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post

The Pink Necromancer: The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane aka The Twighlight Manor Series

🌸🦄🌸 Furry Yaoi Fiction about Elves and Faeries and Satyrs and Demons and Unicorns and Technomancer Wizards and Liches living in a Lighthouse and surviving as Travelling Merchants and Food Truck Chefs in Cyberpunk Dystopian 40th Century Maine, and Zombie Apocalypse and Time Travel but it’s Slice of Life Vignettes of Mundane Daily Lives of The UnSeelie Court’s Royal Family trying to survive after a comet hit the moon and turned the Earth into a CyberPunk Ice-Age. 🌸🦄🌸

• eBook Editions from this series can be found on: GumRoad

• Kindle, eBook, Print Paperback, & full colour illustrated Hardcover Editions from this series can be found on: Amazon

Meet The Characters

Wendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again. Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title. List of the published titles still in print: The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series What the series is about, for those new here: The introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series.

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

My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.

As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.

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

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

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

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

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

There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.

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

@eelkat health update #maine #disabilityawareness #wheelchairlife #wheelchairvlogger #multiplesclerosis ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

Update Sept 3, 2026:

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

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

update sept 7, 2026

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

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

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

see video below for more information: 

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

update Sept 15, 2026:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Books By Wendy Christine Allen
Currently Available on Amazon Kindle:

Index of the Quaraun novels, novellas, & short story collections on Amazon

And GumRoad:

Index of the Quaraun short stories on GumRoad

On Medium:

An Index of the more than TWO THOUSAND Quaraun Short Stories on Medium

(NOTE: a $5 or $15 per month paid subscription required to access stories on Medium)

On Vocal:

Index of the Quaraun short stories on Vocal

On Notd:

Index of the Quaraun Short Stories on Notd

On OnlyFans:

Index of the Quaraun Short Stories on OnlyFans

(NOTE: a $4.99 per month paid subscription required to access stories on OnlyFans)

Pink Necromancer Merch: On CafePress:

An Index of the Quaraun Merch on CafePress

Pink Necromancer Merch: On Zazzle:

Index of the Quaraun Merch on Zazzle

Not Quaraun:

This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

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