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. |

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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.
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.
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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.
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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.


"Pine cones!" Unicorn suddenly screamed.
"What?"
"Look at the cute little pine cones!"
"I'm looking at them," Quaraun said. "I'm just not sure why you are."
"I love pine cones."
"Why?"
"Pine cones are like tree poop."
"Tree poop?"
"Aye."
"You think of the weirdest things."
"Aye. I knows it."
Quaraun stared at the tiny green and brown cones scattered on the ground.
"They look like miniature dead goblins," Quaraun said.
"We've lost Xanadoot," Quaraun said looking around. "ZooLock! Where's your slave gone off to?"
"I know not, my Lord."
"Will you stop calling me 'Lord'?"
"Yes, your Ladyship."
"ZOOLOCK!"
Quaraun glared at the squid beast.
"Where is Xanadoot?"
"He ran off when the highway men attacked. Your dragon brought me back, but neglected to bring back poor Xanadoot. He's probably half way back to Persia by now."
"I don't believe you."
"I speak the truth."
"Which is out of character for you, seeing how nothing you say is true."
"As you wish, my Lord."
"I told you to stop saying that."
Quaraun turned to Unicorn.
"Why didn't you tell me Xanadoot was missing?"
Unicorn shrugged.
"I did nae notice."
"How could you not notice?"
"Ya was flying through the clouds most of da day. Me brain no can keep track of many t'ings at once. Ya was vomiting ya guts half the day. I did spend me time taking care of ya. I was no paying mind to the Thullid's goblin."
Quaraun sighed.
"Let's go."
"Where we go to."
"Into the woods. Just follow this path and see where it takes us. It seems to be what I do."
The three continued on in silence for a short while, moving quickly through the dense forest to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the Human cravan they'd left back on the road.
"Why does ya walk so much?" Unicorn asked Quaraun, breaking the silence.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean ya walks all over the world and ya does no seem to have a reason for doing so."
"I like walking."
"Most Elves settle down and lives in a house. Hs a family. Never travels. Ya never settles down. Not even for a few days. Not even now when ya is hurt."
"I'm not hurt."
"Ya leg is bleeding."
Quaraun looked down at his wounded knee.
"I hadn't noticed."
"I t'inks we should find a place to settle down for a while."
"You mean stop travelling?"
"Aye."
"Why would I do that?"
"Why are ya travelling?"
"I'm a Lich Hunter."
"Who does nae hunt Liches."
"I found my Lich."
"Ya started travelling to look for me."
"Yes."
"And now ya found me. So why ya still travelling?"
"I don't know. Habit. I've done it so long. I can't seem to stop."
"Does ya want to?"
"I have to now. There's a price on my head."
"The Guild?"
"Yeah. Necromancy is outlawed. I had to become a Necromancer to resurrect you. And then I killed my family. And all the villagers. And the king."
"And the Katopas."
"And the Katopas."
"And the DiJinn," ZooLock added.
"And the DiJinn," Quaraun sighed. "I'm wanted for murder, mutiny, treason, genocide, necromancy, practicing magic without proper permits and authorizations from the Guild, and being the male sex partner of another male. I can't really stay in any one town very long before some one figures out they can gain a king's ransom for turning me over to the Guild,"
"So ya started out travelling, to looks for me dead soul," Unicorn stated. "And in doing so, raked up a criminal record, which now forces ya to continue travelling causing ya be on the run from the Guild, then, eh?"
"Yes."
Quaraun stopped walking. Unicorn who was walking too close behind the Elf, ran into him.
"I wish was would no stop like that," the Faerie complained. "Give me some type of warning ya gonna stop bolt short like that."
"I just thought of something," Quaraun said, not paying attention to Unicorn's complaint.
"What ya Jelly brain t'inking?"
"For the past three days we've had one thing after another chasing us off the main road."
Quaraun turned around to face the direction they had come from.
"It's like someone is tossing stuff in our path to stop us from going forward."
"Ya mean magic? Like another wizard?"
"Yeah. Either preventing us from going on that road or forcing us to go into these woods."
"Why would some one do that, eh?"
"I don't know. But first those highway men, then those hell hounds, and then that impossibly huge turtle... and those two cats and the pumpkins and that out of season field of poppies that had a really bad effect on me this morning. None of this feels right. Those highway men didn't try to rob us. In fact they didn't go after you or ZooLock at all. They just held you down while they attacked me. I thought they were going to rape me, that's what most Humans do, but they didn't do that either. They ambushed us, just to hurt me. That's all they did. It's like they knew we were coming and waited for us."
"Ya t'ink some one paid them to beat ya up?"
"Yeah. I do."
"Who would do that?"
"I don't know. But their is a price on my head and it gets higher all the time. What you said about me travelling, back there. I keep thinking about it. I would like to settle down and have a place to live and not travel any more, but I can't because there's always someone ready to hand me over to the Guild."
"Aye, but ya is very, wicked powerful wizard. People says ya is most powerful wizard in whole of world. More powerful then evil Lich King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, leader of Lich Lords."
"You ARE King Gwallmaiic, exiled King of the Realm of Fae."
"I knows. And that why I know rumours is true. Ya has far surpassed me in magic ability, provided ya stay off the poppies and wine long enough to keep ya head on straight."
"Those hell hounds," Quaraun went on, ignoring Unicorn's remark about his drinking and drug addiction. "They were from another dimension. They just appeared out of no where. Zapped into existence. Magic literally tossed them at my feet. And that half Elf..."
"The GhoulSpawn?"
"Yeah. He just showed up out of no where, in the middle of no where and he just happened to know how to get rid of the hell hounds."
"Him were shifty character. Him with hims pockets full o sheeps."
"I think he put those hell hounds in the way to chase us off the road, but I don't think he meant to hurt us. I think he thought we'd run. He showed up just when the dogs knocked me down and bit me."
Quaraun reached down, pulling his skirts up and rubbed his wounded leg. The deep punctures from the bite were still seeping blood.
"He didn't expect me to get hurt. I don't think he would have shown up, except the dogs bit me and he was scared I'd be killed so he had to come out into the open to make the dogs go away. He used magic to poof them back to the hell dimension they popped out of, but how did he know where t send them? It would have taken even an advanced wizard weeks to figure out which hell dimension those dogs came from and then more time to find the right spell to send them back, but he knew immediately where they came from and the proper spell to send them back. He had to have been the one who sent them after us."
"But why would he do that?" ZooLock asked. "He seemed like a nice chap."
"He is," Quaraun answered. "For a half-Elf. He helped us before. A few years ago. But he was using a different name back then. He was calling himself Glinter when we first met him."
Quaraun stared up at the tall pine trees towering over head.
"Some thing's not right with GhoulSpawn. Nor any of this. Why would he be doing this?"
Quaraun had begun muttering to himself under his breath about Hell Hounds and GhoulSpawn and was no longer watching where he was going. Unicorn was nearly blind, though pretending not to be, thus he walked inches from Quaraun, keeping the Elf in sight so as not to walk into any trees.
"Why we stop?"
"There is no more path!" Quaraun pouted.
"Oh! That fixable," Unicorn said cheerfully, pulling out his machete.
"How is that fixable?"
Before Quaraun had time to ponder the possibilities any further, Unicorn ran charging forward, while screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Murder! Death! Destruction! Santa's floating dead body! Yes! Yes! Yes! Woo, ho, ho, ho! Hahaha! Kill every one! Die! Die! Die!"
Quaraun stood motionless watching Unicorn run around like a raving lunatic, screaming and yelling and shrieking, while brandishing a machete and chopping up the over growth. Knowing the Phooka was blind and and couldn't see where he was swinging that weapon, terrified Quaraun as he watched the Faerie hack every thing in his path to nothingness. ZooLock cowered behind the Elf, knowing it was the only safe place to hide as the Phooka would never hurt Quaraun. After a few minutes, the feral Faerie had cleared a path through the brambles. Unicorn trotted back up to Quaraun.
"See? All fixed."
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What?"
"You just massaquered those poor plants."
"They is plants Quaraun. One can no massaqure plants."
"Plants are living beings."
"I a Phooka."
"I'm an Elf."
"So?"
"I'm suppose to protect plants!"
"Ah yeah. Forgot, yis a butterfly kissing, treeing hugging looney."
"Those poor plants!"
"Theys plants, Quaraun."
"Those poor babies!"
"Babies?"
Quaraun Rushed forward to examine the slashed shrubbery, dragging ZooLock behind him as he went.
"No concern for that life, eh?" Unicorn pointed to the Thullid being dragging in chains behind the Elf.
Quaraun was suddenly on his knees hugging the chopped up bits of plants.
"They're all dead!"
"Aye."
"Why did you do that?"
"I is dead warrior king. It in me blood."
"Oh. Uhm. Okay."
Quaraun wasn't sure he understood what the old Faerie was implying, but he decided it best to just agree with the Phooka and hope something made sense.
ZooLock staggered to his feet, hoping Quaraun wouldn't run off without warning, knocking him off his feet and dragging him on the ground again.
"I suggest," the squid said. "We stop and eat while we are stopped already."
"I shall cook dinner, then," Unicorn stated.
"Are you sure you can handle dinner?" Quaraun asked.
"I master chef," Unicorn declared. "What for ya t'inks I can no handle dinner?"
"We have no food for you to cook."
"Ya always has food in ya bag of holding there."
"It only holds stuff infinatly, it doesn't stop it from spoiling. I can't keep more then a few days worth of food at a time in it. You know that. We are nearly out of food."
"Ah! Then it good t'ing we in swamp."
"Why is that a good thing?"
"Swamp is full of wild edibles."
"I don't eat roughage."
"Roughage?"
"Do you really expect me to eat wild plants?"
"What wrong with wild plants? Ya was just loving 'em a minute ago."
"I'm not a Wild Elf! I am civilized. I grew up in a castle. I don't eat stuff off the ground like a common Wood Elf! I do not eat wild stuff! It's savage and barbaric..."
"It been 300 years since ya last lived in a house."
"That doesn't mean I have to act uncivilized!"
"Yis more uncivilized then ya t'inks. Wild Elves act more civil then ya does these days."
"You take that back!"
"Why ya being so hysterical?"
"I'm not being hysterical."
"Yea ya is. Ya been acting like a crazy bitch in heat all week. Getting crazier by the minute."
"I think it's his leg," ZooLock said soothingly. "His ladyship is hurt."
"Stop calling me that," Quaraun snarled.
"Yes, your ladyship," ZooLock said bowing to his knees.
"Well, I is Faerie and we eats wild stuffs all the time, which by yar standards make me to be savage and barbaric."
Quaraun stopped yelling.
"I didn't mean you were savage and barbaric."
"Does ya t'inks I be uncivilized?"
"You're a Faerie."
"T'at no answer me question."
"I don't know how to answer it."

"Because ya do be t'inking I be savage and barbaric and uncivilized and ya does no be wanting to say it to me face."
"That's not... I don't..." Quaraun stammered trying to find the proper words to say. "I don't think of you that way."
"If ya saw some one else acting way I acts ya would t'inks that way of them, though, eh?"
"I... I ... I don't know."
"Yes, ya does."
"Ya would call 'em savage and barbaric and uncivilized. And that mean ya do be t'inking I be savage and barbaric and uncivilized as well."
"I don't."
"Why?"
"I like you."
"And ya does no likes dem? Is that all that make a difference?"
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"Does ya t'ink ya did?"
"I don't know. I don't want you mad at me."
"Does ya t'ink I am?"
"I don't know. You get mad so easily."
"I actually dreams of slicing bread instead of people," a metallic voice said.
"Did your machete just talk?" Quaraun asked.
Unicorn pulled out the machete again.
"Aye. It does that some times."
"I was forged in the blood of a thousand enemies," the sword said.
"No ya was nae. I knows causing I mades ya."
"The blood of 400 men would have had enough iron in it to forge a machete of about 1.2-1.6 kg. Quite a decent machete. Plus, burning the exsanguinated bodies to use the carbon for a carbon steel machete, or using less blood with better machete crafting techniques using other parts of the bodies for other bits and pieces of Unicorn's machete, quenching the blade in the blood, mixing the blood with iron..."
"Aye, all sorts of interesting things! Now shuts up."
"Why didn't I know you had a talking sword?"
"I knows nots."
ZooLock creep up close to Quaraun.
"He had an enchanted map didn't he?" The old squid headed priest asked.
"Yes. He did."
"And a cursed dagger."
"That's true."
"Why would it be shocking that he has a talking sword as well?"
"That's a good point."
"BLUEBERRIES!" Unicorn screamed. "Give me a cup."
Quaraun pulled a cup from his bag of holding and gave it to Unicorn.
"A cup full of glorious blueberry mashed alien brains," the Phooka said delightedly as he started picking blueberries from a nearby bush.
"You are not eating my brain," ZooLock said.
"Why not?"
"I need it!"
"There it is again!" Quaraun said, jumping to his feet.
"What?"
"That cat. That same black cat. It's following us."

Back from the dead, once again with Unicorn in tow, and now with the Thullid priest ZooLock his prisoner shackled in chains, Quaraun is headed back to The Screaming Unicorn Tavern in Old Orchard Beach, but finds himself cursed with endless bad luck, as one thing after another drops out of the sky in his path.
Highwaymen, hellhounds, a turtle as big as a house, fire breathing butterflies, a train station from the 20th century, and a strange glow-in-the-dark demonic wizard with pockets full of sheep, who sits in a red armchair in poppy field in the 1400s reading 1980s spellbooks books by Gary Gaygax.
Quaraun goes head to head against The Gremlin, a time traveling wizard from the future who refuses to allow the Pink Necromancer back into Old Orchard Beach, where since his last visit, an evil Sorcerer named HellBorne has erected a giant cursed lighthouse known as The Black Tower.
ZooLock however has other plans, and while 4 rival wizards tear up the town in a wizard's duel, the Squid Headed Aliens From Neptune's Moon and their armies of JellyFish worshiping cultists arrive in town to preform a ritual that will unleash an Elder Brain Chaos Demon, known as The Sacred Pink JellyFish on the world. Too bad they didn't know she was already in town.
NOTE: Most of this novel will be available as free to read online.
(The End?)
The Summoner of Darkness is the first time The Gremlin, EelKat, Lyxiana, Bela, and Spriggan (all characters from the original 1978 edition of Friends Are Forever, Volume 1 of The Twighlight Manor Series) make appearances in The Quaraun series.
While most of the Quaraun series is written with Quaraun as the only point of view character, EelKat, the primary point of view character of the Twighlight Manor series, alternates with Quaraun as a point of view character in Summoner of Darkness.
The novel tells 2 stories side by side, with all odd numbered chapters telling Quaraun's version of the story in the 1400s, and all even numbered chapters being written as letters from EelKat in the 1980s to her sister Lynxian.
EelKat is a 4th wall meta breaking narrator.

This is the first time GhoulSpawn appears using the name GhoulSpawn. In previous volumes he was using the name Glinta instead.
In the Twighlight Manor series he is known as The Gremlin.
Quaraun's teenaged lover GhoulSpawn is a "natural born" Sorcerer. He is a half-Elf/half Demon.
GhoulSpawn's father was an evil Demon who commanded an army of Ghouls. Because of this, he was known simply as "The Ghoul".
GhoulSpawn's mother was a Sun Elf whom had fallen in love with The Ghoul, but was forbidden by her family to have contact with him. She in turn ran away with her Demon lover, thus causing a war between Elves and Demons.
The Sun Elves tell a story of how their Princess was kidnapped and raped by the Ghoul, thus she gave birth to the Spawn of the Ghoul. Though his mother named him Glinta, she died while he was still very young, and his Elven kin, took to calling him GhoulSpawn as a way to brand him not one of them.
GhoulSpawn is an interdimensional time traveller, because he is unable to remain in any one time, place or dimension long, because he was born in the Hell Dimension, which exists outside of the realm of time and space as we know it. The Ghoul tried to escape the Sun Elves by going to the distant future (1974) and leaving his half-Elf son and the boy's mother there to live among a band of LSD addicted hippie Humans whom drove a 1974 AMC Gremlin.
The Sun-Elves eventually found their missing she-Elf and brought her back to the 1400s where she belonged, but she refused to leave her half-Demon son behind.
After his mother's death, GhoulSpawn was made a servant to his High Elf step-father and full blooded Elf step siblings, all of whom abused him and treated him like a slave. He grew up constantly being told he, because he was only a half-Elf, was unloved and unwanted and should have been killed at birth, resulting in the very low self esteem he has.
Neither Demons nor half-Elves are considered welcomed members of society, both being forced to live in small tribal groups on the outskirts of civilization. Both are often stoned to death or hung if they dare set foot in a city.
GhoulSpawn being both a Demon and a half-Elf is doubly mistreated by the majority of the world's population. He takes to travelling with Quaraun because Quaraun simply accepts GhoulSpawn as he is and is not bothered by being seen in the company of either a Demon or a half-Elf.
There are several instances when people try to bully GhoulSpawn and Quaraun (a high ranking full-blooded aristocratic High Elf) is quick to stand up for him, protecting and defending the half-Elf. Quaraun is often classified by other Elves as "insane" simply because he is willing to be friends with a half-Elf.
GhoulSpawn has a speech impediment which lessens when he is relaxed and grows worse the more nervous or frightened he becomes.
Around calm laid back characters like Quaraun, GhoulSpawn speaks without difficulty. However around domineering, headstrong, or bullying characters such as Unicorn or HellBorne, GhoulSpawn develops a stutter, making it difficult for him the get to the end of a sentence.
Because he is a Demon, GhoulSpawn was born with natural magical abilities, making him a rare "natural born wizard" or sorcerer.
GhoulSpawn is typical of a Sorcerer in the Quaraun series, in that he has Demon blood, was thus born with a Demon's natural ability to cast magic on some levels, has taking to self-teaching himself how to control the magic powers he was born with, is outcast from society because of his link to Demons, and is generally not well thought of, even though he is not in any way evil, and is in fact the only part of the cast who could be considered anything close to being a Hero.
Being a time traveller, there are times when Quaraun encounteres both GhoulSpawn and his future counterpart Gremlin in the same novel.
This is the first novel in the series to feature multiple versions of GhoulSpawn in a single novel.
GhoulSpawn remains one of the most hated and most loved characters in the series. People who dislike him, absolutely despise him and have gone so far as to request I remove his character from the series entirely. While people who love him, often cite him as their favourite character and often request I add him into more stories more often.
For the people who don't like him, I'm sorry, but he remains one of my favourite characters of the series and he's not going anywhere.
For the people who want to see more of him: there are plans to make changes to several stories in the series to include him in the future editions, more often.
You can find out more about GhoulSpawn here:

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This novel was originally written in: 2014 - 2016
This novel was originally written on: 2014 - 2016
This page last updated on: April 17, 2017
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
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.
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.
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There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.