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. |


Please Note: The Quaraun Series Is Rated M18+ and you must be 18 or older to buy it.
Most pages on EelKat.com are about writing Yaoi, and thus probably is NSFW; reader discretion is advised.
Why is the Quaraun Series Rated M18+?

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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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.
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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:
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. |
The Summoner of Darkness is
an Epic Length Novel of more than 300,000 words
(500+ paperback pages)
This chapter is...
Word count: 4,000
or
12 paperback pages.

~o0o~ Chapter ~o0o~
"It was a ritual killing," Mallac said. "We are sure of it. Each victim was cut palm to palm, all the way up the arms and across the neck. They were each left face down, left to bleed straight into the ground. There was no obvious trails in the dirt. It appears the bodies were killed where they were found and not brought from elsewhere. Until tonight, it had been one victim each night, but this time there were two deaths."
Mallac sat back and stared at Quaraun, waiting for the Elf to say something.
"I can't help you."
"But you are the world's most powerful wizard..." Mallac started to say.
"So?" Quaraun deeply disliked being called the world's most powerful wizard. Calling him thusly was the fastest way to offend him.
"But people say..."
"People say a lot of things," Quaraun said. "People can say, whatever the hell they want. It doesn't make it true."
"So are you the world's most powerful wizard or not?"
"So what if I am? What difference does it make?"
"It makes a lot of differance."
"How?"
"You can save us..."
"Oh fuck off!"
"But...
"Do I look like I care?"
"You look increadibly pissed off right now..."
"Oh really? And I wonder why that possibly might be?"
"We need your help..."
"Why?"
"I told you already..."
"People in this town are being murdered left and right, blah, blah, blah. In what town isn't that the case?"
"But you're the world's most powerful wizard..."
"So? What do you even think that means?"
"Well, you can do things."
"Like what?"
"You can use magic to defeat monsters..."
"Magic doesn't work that way. If it did, I wouldn't be sitting in this tavern right now with a bloody leg."
Upon saying this, Quaraun hiked his skirts up and threw his wounded leg up on the table, in the most unladylike way possible.
"You see that?" He pointed to the bite wound. "A monster did that. Magic didn't stop that from happening now did it?"
"But you're the world's..."
"Phfft."
Quaraun pulled his leg back off the table and turned away from the soilder.
"Why can't I go anywhere without this happening," he asked Unicorn.
"Yis world's most powerful wizard," Unicorn stated.
Quaraun sighed. He hated the reputation he had. He almost wished it wasn't true. He never set out to become the world's most powerful wizard. He wasn't even sure that he was all that powerful at all. The only reason anyone said he was, was because of what happened to the DiJinn. Quaraun loved horses. Too much perhaps. He couldn't just stand back and do nothing while the DiJinn slaughtered an entire herd of innocent little ponies. That the ponies were really monsters in disguise hadn't mattered to him. He just couldn't watch someone kill a horse. And so he told the DiJinn to drop dead, and they obediently did exactly that. Seconds later all that was left of the most powerful guild of wizards, was piles of ash, where live wizards had once stood.

Quaraun wasn't certain how exactly it was he had killed the DiJin. He didn't even know if he could do something like that again. He wasn't in the habit of using magic. And it seemed, he had little control over the magic he did use, which was mostly sporadic bursts of his anger manifesting in horribly bloody disaster. That was him losing his temper and everyone around him dropping dead.
Magic was not what people thought it was. It certain wasn't what Mallac thought it was. Quaraun simply did not know how to explain to people the way magic worked, at least in any way they could understand. Especially not when he didn't even understand the workings of magic. Studying to become a wizard had not been his life choice. Like all wizards, he had been a child abducted by fanatical priests and raised in a self made temple that forced young boys into servitude to a demon. Wizards were a far cry from the magical beings the average person thought they was. They were nothing more then glorified priests who happened to serve real "gods". Not that their gods were actual gods. the gods of wizards were demons with true powers, powers wizards were taught to call up.
Unlike other wizards, Quaraun had not succumbed to the servitude his kidnapped had forced him into. He had rebelled constantly against them, rarely paid attention to the prayers and rituals they taught him, spent most of his days finding ways to escape rather than memorize chants to the god of the DiJinn.
The public image of wizards was nothing but a scam, put out their by the leaders of the wizarding guilds, to try to make the wizards of their guild seem more powerful then the wizards of the next guild. Nothing but pompous old men puffing each other up. It disgusted Quaraun and wanted no part of it.
All he had ever wanted to do was escape the egomaniacal demon cultists and go back home to his family. But now his family was ded. His people were dead. He was alone. Travelling with the last of the DiJinn priests and an undead Faerie who was trapped in the wrong dimension and loving it. So many people here for him to play pranks on.
Quaraun looked up from his thoughts. Mallac was still going on about the ritual murders taking place every night this past week. Unicorn had left the table momentarily. He had spied a sleeping patron at another table and snuck over to tie the man's boots to the table leg.
Quaraun shook his head. He did not understand Unicorn and his endless need to torment every one and everything. Unicorn was a Faerie after all. Quaraun had long ago given u trying to understand the irrationality of Faerie logic.
"And you are the world's most powerful wizard..." Mallac said again, in the middle of his explanation of the details of the grizzly murders.
Quaraun heard only that one line. The rest of Mallac's words drifted passed him. Quaraun thought about the little black ponies. Tiny little Shetlands, so out of place in the desert of the DiJinn. Galloping and playing. Sleeping along the river bank.
He had known they weren't really horses. No wild horses ran through the desert of the DiJinn and horses didn't have fangs or sharp claws instead of hooves, Quaraun had known from the first day he had seen them, that they were a pack of Faeries in disguise. He had also known that no good Fae ever pretended to be a black furred animal. The most telling sign of all was the fact that the herd was led by a little black unicorn. The size of a goat. With a gleaming silver horn on its head. And the skull of a dead Ef skewered on it's horn and worn as a crown. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. King of the Faeries. And he dark, evil army. Quaraun had known who they were and why they had surrounded the temple of the DiJinn. Why they called to him each day, luring him outside, down to the river, away from the safety of the DiJinn. They hunted Elves. Killed Elves. Slaughtered Elves. And ate Elven flesh. And Quaraun was an Elf. But none of this had stopped the young Elf from skipping his studies every day to go down to the river and watch the herd of little black ponies chasing each other, luring him ever closer to the marshy shores of the river bank.
Then one day, Quaraun snuck out, to find the DiJinn waiting, and frightened little horses crying out in agony, as one by one the wizard priests slaughtered the evil little pony-nots.
"No! Stop!"
"You don't know what they are."
"Stop hurting them."
"They are here to kill our god. The Sacred Pink JellyFish must be protected."
The DiJinn heeded not the cries of the young Elfling. A child with barely any training, standing up against the most powerful wizards on the planet. It had been foolish to think such a small Elfling stood a chance against the DiJinn. The DiJinn - who were capable of cutting down the Elf Eater's army like they were nothing but flies.
And yet, the DiJinn themselves, worshiped the young Elf, proclaiming that a Demon god had burrowed itself into his body and now lived inside him. It was foolish of them to defy her will.
Quaraun watched in horror as the ponies fell before the wizards. One by one the ponies died. Their screams cutting through his soul. The ponies ran, but were cut dead in their tracks, no match for the powerful DiJinn wizards.
Seeing his army defeated, the unicorn ran too. The little black unicorn. Quaraun's favorite pony, fell to the DiJinn.
"You'll not kill my unicorn," the words of the Elf rang through the desert. His voice now changed. No longer the voice of the Elf, but now the voice of the beast that lived inside him. To hear her speak, caught the DiJinn of guard, as they turned to the Elf.
"DIE!"
The last word any of them heard. The moment the word left his lips, every last DiJinn, save one coward who had fled earlier, withered away to dust. Their bodies burning in flames, twisted in agony. And seconds later, the DiJinn were no more.
ZooLock along survived and he fled to the desert, terrified of the wrath of his god. Terrified of the Sacred Pink Jellyfish. No doubt in his mind existed now that she was anything other then the one true god.
The unicorn had watched in awe, at the Elf powers unlike anything he had never seen. No wizard had the power's Quaraun had. This was not magic. The unicorn knew this. This was something else. Whatever Quaraun was, he was neither Elf, nor Wizard, and now both the unicorn and last of the DiJinn worshiped him like a god.
Quaraun watched ZooLock stealing food off people's tables while they weren't looking, and Unicorn, now dumping a bottle of red pepper into a jar of strawberry jam. They both believed he was the world's most powerful wizard and they both followed him, obeying him without question because of it. All because of how he had killed the DiJinn.
Perhaps it did make him the world's most powerful wizard, but it didn't mean he could control it or even knew how he did it.
Wizardry was not what the world thought it was. Magic didn't have all the dazzle and punch rumors said it had. Far too many people, people with no knowledge of magic, had it in their heads that all a wizard had to do was wave a wand and -POOF- they could do anything and everything. The problem stemmed from the fact that wizards were rare and magic uncommon, resulting in mystical glorification of both. Stories gave wizard's god-like powers they were not even remotely capable of in real life. Quaraun long ago gave up trying to explain to common folk what magic was and was not capable of.
The soldier continued to tell Quaraun of the murders that had plagued their town this past week and all the reasons why magic and wizards were exactly what they needed right now. Quaraun didn't listen to a word of it. He contemplated telling the soldier all the reasons his misconceptions about wizards and magic were wrong, but concluded it was a waste of his time to argue with the man, so instead let the man ramble on, while he dozed off.
"YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME!"
Quaraun sat up and looked around. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was. Then he saw the soldier, glaring angrily at him.
"What?" Quaraun asked sleepily, yawning.
"You fell asleep."
"So?"
"You were not listening to me?"
"Was I supposed to be?"
"Now I have to say all of that all over again."
"You really don't..."
"You have to pay attention..."
"I do?"
"Yes!"
"Why?"
"If you are going to help us, you need to know what happened."
"Did I say I was going to help?"
"Yes, you did!"
Quaraun looked at Unicorn.
"Did I say I was going to help?"
"Ya mumbled some'ing to dat effect. After him threatened to toss ya in in prison for not helping him."
"Bother."
"Are you going to stay awake and listen to mem" Mallac asked.
"Fine. Who died? What do you know about them?"
"The first victim was Gnnizllahuantyotleyog, a Dwarf.”
"That is a Thullid name," Quaraun said. “Why would a Dwarf have a Thullid name?”
“She was the daughter of the most prominent merchant in town. She was about to be wedded to the son of another prominent merchant, They were going to combine their establishments. We thought at first, that it was motivated by perhaps a third merchant who wanted to prevent the merger of two big shipping companies into one huge shipping company..."
"But you no longer think this?" Quaraun asked.
"No. The second victim was Axcolwbettlii.”
“Also a Thullid name.”
“He was a big sloth of a man. Not well liked. He had a farm outside of town. Kept children, orphans, you know, little kids, as slaves. Cheaper then farmhands, he said. A lot of people in town would have liked to see him dead..."
"And there was no connection between the two them? Other then both having Thullid names?"
"Nope, none as far as I can tell."
Mallac pointed to the third murder site marked on the map.
"Selliinsuji was the third victim.”
“Another Thullid name.”
“A young girl. Recently married. We found her here, same as the others, cut palm to palm, face down in the mud. Her family's farm is just over there, she was probably on her way home."
"What's that over there?" Quaraun pointed a large blacked out circle on the map, just off to the side of where Selliinsuji's body was found.
"That's The Black Tower," said Mallac.
"Black Tower?”
Quaraun turned and looked out the window. He could see Black Tower from here.
“What IS Black Tower? It calls to me."
"Calls to you?"
"Yes. Can you not hear it? It's been calling to me for days. It's fascinating."
"Uhm..."
"Tell me about Black Tower. What is it?"
"A tall tower built out of smooth black river stones. It's really ancient. I think it was part of an old castle years ago, but there's nothing but the tower standing there today. It was converted into a lighthouse for a few decades. An old half-Elf lives there now. He fancies himself a wizard, but he's, I don't know, he's kind of stupid. Can't do much in the way of magic, near as I can tell. He's the kind of guy who just wants to run around in a cape. He's got this strange looking servant, also a half-Elf, but not like any Elf I never did see before. Got hair yellower then if it had been painted."
“A Sun Elf?”
“Don't know Elf types.”
“Sun Elves have bright yellow hair that glows in the dark. And we meet a Sun Elf on the way here. GhoulSpawn. Used to call himself Glinter.”
“Don't know. Just know the old Elf is ancient and the young Elf has got yellow hair like nothing I've ever seen before and they both kind of crazy.”
“Crazy how?”
“Hermits. Keep to themselves. Caught the yellow haired one stealing sheep a couple of times.”
“Sheep?”
“Yeah, not sure what he does with them.”
"Do you suspect him of being connected?"
“The yellow Elf? Nah. He's kind of crazy, but he seems harmless. I don't think he'd hurt anyone. Not sure what it is with him stealing sheep though. I think he steals corpses too.”

“Corpses?”
“Yep. Caught him a couple of times out in graveyards and fields with a shovel. Never seen him with no body, though. It's like he's looking for buried treasure or something. Strange fella, but nice enough whenever I've talked to him.”
"You're lying to me."
"What?"
"Your voice changed. When ya started talking about GhoulSpawn. You don't like him. Your words said one thing, but your voice said something else. Why don't you like GhoulSpawn."
"He's a thief."
"Considering he cleaned out my pockets, I had already gathered that much."
"You had a run in with him."
"That storm a few days ago. He got caught in it. So did we. We both ended up seeking shelter in the same abandoned cathedral. Had to wait out the storm before going forward. I had gold coins in my pockets went I fell asleep. They disappeared some time during the night."
"We can arrest him on that."
"Don't bother."
"Why not?"
"He's just a child. An orphaned one at that. I already confronted him. He gave me the coins back and then I gave them to him. Poor thing looks half starved. For such a prosperous town, I'm surprised you have people going hungry like that."
"He's a half-Elf."
"Meaning?"
"It is what it is."
"I don't like the tone of your voice."
"hat's wrong with it?"
"It implies that a half-Elf does not deserve food."
"Listen... might as well get it out now."
"Get what out?"
"Folks 'round here don't like half-Elves."
"Why not?"
"There's a band of half-Elves just outside of town. They start trouble. Band of thieves. Steal everything that ain't nailed down. Food, weapons, tools, you name, they steal it."
"In my experience no one steals unless forced to out of great need. And as I said before... a town this prosperous, should have enough to go around. There shouldn't be anyone going without, so there should be no need to steal."
"Yeah, you're not from around here. You don't get it."
"Perhaps I don't. What about the other one? You said there were two half-Elves in town. Do you think he's involved?”
"HellBorne? HellBorne the Evil, Summoner of Darkness the Great and Mighty Overlord of the Evil Black Tower of the Dark Castle of Doom? Nah." Mallac laughed at the thought. "No HellBorne is harmless. Crazy as ten coots, but harmless."
"Someone with a name like HellBorne," Unicorn said. "Does no sound harmless."
"Oh, no. He changed his name to sound scary and spooky. He's like that. No, he wouldn't hurt anybody. I told you, he's an Elf."
"No, you said he was a half-Elf," Quaraun stated, as though half-Elves were scum of the Earth. "You didn't say half what else. If he's half-Human, that alone makes him prone to evil."
“Can an Elf be half something not Human?”
“He could be half-Faerie or half-Dwarf or half-Mountain Troll or half-Orc or half-Demon or...”
“Half-Demon?”
“Yes. Horrible thought.”
"I don't know what else he is, but he's an Elf, so I know he wouldn't hurt no one..."
"Are you of the opinion that being an Elf, precludes one from doing harm?"
"Well, yeah, I mean, Elves are Elves, they do nice things, like granting wishes..."
"Granting wishes? That's what Kelim said to me."
"Kelim?"
"An annoyingly stupid Pixie that reminds me of you."
"He asketh Quaraun to grantth him wish," Unicorn explained. "Just before his village went din-din to Pocket Lich."
"Pocket Lich?"
"Him carries Lich in his pocket."
"You do?" Mallac asked Quaraun.
The Elf just smiled and said: "Yes, and my other Lich doesn't want to be in my bed tonight, otherwise he'd shut up."
Unicorn immediately stopped talking and sat as quiet as a grave he was no longer buried in.
"Tell me about HellBorne," Quaraun said to Mallac.
"He's just a crazy old coot. Got old and lost his marbles. You know the type. He's just a crazy old man who likes to scare the kiddies. Makes all kinds of lights go off around the tower. Fireworks and stuff. Smoke and nonsense."
"And yet he lives in something called Black Tower."
"Well, yes..."
"I'd like to see Black Tower up close."
"Nah. You wouldn't like it."
"How would you know?"
"Like I said. He's trying to make himself sound all big and scary. He thinks he's a Necromancer. You know, evil wizard, black mage, army of zombies..."
"I know what a Necromancer is."
"Oh, that's right, you are one aren't you?"
“Yes, I am.”
“People like to go up there at night and watch the show. Some times they get drunk and come back talking about all these monsters and things...”
“Monsters?”
“Yeah. Like your squid buddy there, only bigger, more hulking, squatter, fatter, green skin, sort of rubbery looking...”
“Uoogal-Thorpe?” ZooLock asked.
“What?”
“Uoogal-Thorpe.”
“What's that?”
“An Uoogal-Thorpe is a type of Chaos Demon, made out of Thullid larvae implanted into UmberHulks.”
“UmberHulks?”
“Hhhhm, yes. Nasty beasts. I wonder how an Uoogal-Thorpe got into this dimension?”
Mallac pointed to the site of the fourth murder.
"Ellreekii died here..." Mallac started to say.
"That is a Thullid name as well," Quaraun said.
"Elderly woman. An Elf, like you. Well, not like you. But an Elf. Wouldn't harm a soul. She was known for her generosity and kindness. Everyone loved her. Her husband was a merchant of rare herbs and spices."
"Another merchant?"
"Yes, well, this is a sea port after all. Ships dock right down yonder." Mallac pointed in the direction of the coastline. A sea gull flew over head and screamed as if to emphasis how close The ocean was to them. "There's a lot of merchants in these parts. Merchants. Captains. Cut throats. Pirates. Scally wags. It’s the area for it. Yeah, stands to reason most folks in town have some connection to a merchant. That’s just the way it is in these parts. What with the ocean right there and all.”
"I see."
A freckled, distraught boy emerged from an alley.
Mallac watched the boy nervously and waited for him to be out of sight before continuing.
"Well yeah, any ways, he died a few years back. Old age.. Nothing suspicious. Just a really old Elf. Her sons took care of her after he died and she used every penny she had to do good to those less fortunate..Not a sweeter soul in these parts. Can't figure out why any one would hurt such a sweet, kind soul."
"Ellreekii is a Thullid name. No Elf would name there child a Thullid name. She must have changed her name later on. What type of Elf was she?"
"Just an Elf, I don't know how you tell one from another. An Elf is an Elf."
"Indeed. I could say the same of Humans. You all look alike, can't tell one from another."
"Now you're just being rude."
"And arrogant," added Unicorn. "Very arrogant this one. He be a king ya knows? Went right to his head it did."
"You're a king?" Mallac asked.
"Yes," Quaraun answered. "Though I've no kingdom and no people."
"He killed his people," Unicorn stated.
"You...killed your people?"
"And he ate his father," Unicorn chirped happily. "Don't forget that."
"You...why?"
"He cut my hair, burned my dresses, and killed my lover. Said he wanted his son to be a King, not a Queen. and he didn't like BoomFuzzy."
"What's a BoomFuzzy?"
"I a BoomFuzzy," said Unicorn. "His father killed me and now I a Unicorn."
"I don't understand."
"His name was BoomFuzzy," said Quaraun. "When he was alive he was a candy maker..."
"Drugged candies," Unicorn corrected. "Played fun with ya mind."
"He's a Phooka," Quaraun went on. "And an Elf Eater. He took up residence in our village, pretended to be a half-Elf and set up a candy shop, which was a false front for the fact that he was a serial killer who used candy to drug Elves, so he could kill them and eat them without them making a fuss."
"Plus ya drug yarself when ya eats drugged Elf flesh," Unicorn said cheerily. "Fun times!"
"So, you're both insane?" Mallac asked.
"Yes," answered ZooLock. "They most certainly are. and I'm their prisoner, not that anyone cares."
"But you're an Elf?" Mallac said to Quaraun.
"Yes."
"And he... eats?... Elves?"
"Yes."
"But you said he was your lover?"
"Yes."
"I'm confused."
“Everyone is.”
"Don't try to think about it," warned ZooLock. "It'll mess with your mind. The worse part of it is the fact that he lets the Faerie drink his blood while they fuck each other. He's a sick Elf. Not right in the head at all."
"And you ate your own father?"
"Yes."
"So you're a cannibal?"
"No. I don't make a habit of eating Elves. It was a one time thing. A play on something he said once. He did not like BoomFuzzy. The villagers agreed with him. So I killed them and ate him.”
"So, you're a murderer."
"I am Quaraun the Insane, Last of the Moon Elves, Murder of Gibedon the Great, Master of the Dead, Lord of the Lich Lords, Resurector of the Black Dragon, most powerful and most feared Necromancer of all time. Most feared wizard on the planet. Lover to the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley... and you asked for my help in solving a murder. Who better to understand the mind of a murderer, then another murderer?"
"That...that actually makes sense," Mallac agreed.
An apparently foreign, happy girl walked by very slowly, bringing them out of their side tracked conversation.
"Now this Ellreekii, what did she look like?"
"She was an Elf." Mallac shrugged. "Elves look like Elves."
Quaraun sighed. "This is why I hate dealing with Humans. They are all so stupid."
Mallac was about to respond but Unicorn stopped him.
"Donna bother trying to defend ya honour. He be an incredibly arrogant Elf. He be so arrogant, that his ego has it's own pet ego. Ignore it when he tells ya, that yar race be the scum of the Earth and not fit to be ants under his feet. He is a king after all. His father raised him to see everyone as unworthy peasants. If ya really wants his help, just agree that ya is scum of the Earth not worthy to kiss his feet and he'll helps ya out of the kindness of his heart and in the knowledge that it be his duty as king to help those races not fortunate enough to have been born Elves."
"Do you do that?"
"I should probably point out that my real name was not BoomFuzzy, no matter what he says. I am King Gwallmaiic Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, Leader of the Lich Lords. We is both royalty. Neither of us likes Humans. We both see the Human race as parasites to be squashed, but I is not so open about it as he is. I would rather just eat them and be done with them, while he would rather belittle them and use them as footstools, so either way ya is not dealing with anyone here who thinks very highly of Humans."
"What about him?" Mallac pointed his thumb at ZooLock.
ZooLock tried to answer, but Unicorn shoved him out of his seat. The Thullid fell to the floor and rolled under the table.
"He's a Thullid," Unicorn said. "Ya does nae fucking know what a Thullid is do ya, boy?"
"No, can't say as I've ever seen anything quite like him. He's like an octopus or something, right?"
"Most Humans, dub the Thullids as 'The Brain Sucking Squids From Neptune' Moon'. Thullids, eat Humans. They came from across the galaxy in flying ships. They are only here to harvest Humans for slaughter to be sent back to their home planet as steaks. Ya Humans is to the Thullid as cows is to ya Humans. Tasty with a side of fish, chips, and mushy peas. Hmmm. I've not had fish, chips, and mushy peas in ages. Do ya suppose they have it here?"
Unicorn got up and went to find a waiter to ask. Most of them had run off to hide, as the tavern was running out of food, trying to cater to the Lich's endless hunger.

"You're not sneaking away again," Quaraun said to ZooLock, who had crawled under the table and tried to get to the front door.
ZooLock glumly came back to the table and sat down next to his Elven captor.
"Now then," Quaraun addressed Mallac again. "Ellreekii. When I asked, what she looked like. I meant, describe her to me. Was she tall? Short? Pale? Dark? Blond? Redhead? Green eyes? Blue eyes?..."
"Blue."
"She had blue eyes?"
"No, she was blue."
"Explain yourself."
"Every inch of her was blue?"
"How so?"
"Blue skin, darker blue hair, blue eyes, really, really, wicked long blue ears. I mean long ears. Her ears must have been a foot tall above her head. Just like yours. Always wore blue gowns, all embroidered in silver and trimmed in white fur..."
"She's from the Deep North," Unicorn said as he came back to the table eating what appeared to be the arm of a waiter. "What ya is describing is the traditional dress of the Moon Elves."
"Except she was blue, not white," Mallac said.
Next Chapter: >>>

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 page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
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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Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂ And if it’s your birthday today: ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐꧁ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ☆ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ꧂🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭 |
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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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