Springtime by the River

Springtime by the River

The battered old VW Bus rattled along the cracked asphalt, its pink and blue paint streaked with road dust, pine needles, and squashed bugs. The caravan stretched out behind them like a wandering circus — a snake of mismatched RVs, ancient covered wagons, horse carts, and solar-powered rust buckets. Torn banners flapped in the cold wind. Sheep bleated from a pen lashed to the back of an old 18 wheeler truck.

GhoulSpawn hunched over the steering wheel, lanky limbs awkward behind the dashboard, his cloven hooves dancing over clutch and brake. He squinted through bug-smeared glass at the distant hazy mountains, dark and sharp beneath the shattered crescent of the Fractured Moon.

“Smells like zombie rot,” he grumbled, adjusting his Harvard jacket, now patched and fraying at the sleeves. “City’s gotta be close.”

Beside him, Quaraun perched primly on the worn bench seat, wrapped in shimmering pink silk and cradling a cane across his lap. He pressed a lace handkerchief over his nose, sniffing in distaste.

“I abhor cities,” the Moon Elf declared, his lilting voice thick with formality. “The reek. The filth. The incessant barbarism of these lawless gangs.”

BoomFuzzy lounged against the passenger door, arms crossed, purple tartan kilt bunched beneath him, a battered black hakama tucked around his legs. His dreadlocked head lolled back, gold teeth flashing when he grinned.

“Aye, an’ nae just gangs. Last town we passed, had a bloody zombie strapped t’their town hall, fer ‘good luck’. S’pose that tells ya all ye need tae ken about Humans, eh?”

GhoulSpawn laughed nervously, eyes darting to the side of the road. Mangled skeletons and rusted old signs flapped on twisted poles, half-buried in snowdrifts.

“I dunno why Humans even stay in places like that.”

“Because they are fools,” Quaraun said airily, smoothing his silk sleeves. “Desperate, reckless fools clinging to broken ruins.”

The old VW Bus jostled over a pothole, rattling every dish and pot in the tiny food truck kitchen behind them. Then — suddenly — the broken road fell away into a gentle slope.

Before them, like a dream stitched from green velvet, stretched a wide valley. A snaking river gleamed under the pale, uncertain sun. Wildflowers blushed shyly between rocks and snowmelt puddles. Trees unfurled baby-green leaves. Birds shrieked joy from the pines.

Far from cities, far from noise, the caravan sprawled like a lazy dragon along the lush green valley. The air smelled of wet moss, wild violets, and snowmelt.

GhoulSpawn gawked.

“No… way. Is that… real?”

BoomFuzzy adjusted the settings on his VR goggles.

“Aye, Ghouly, looks real enough t’me. Sunlight breakin’ through thon blasted comet dust fer once.”

Quaraun leaned forward, eyes wide.

“It is beautiful,” he breathed, in awe. “A blessing.”

Excitement crackled through the caravan behind them. Horns honked. Children shouted. Dogs barked. The convoy began spilling into the valley like water breaking through a dam.

GhoulSpawn carefully guided the VW Bus down a grassy knoll and pulled up alongside the river. BoomFuzzy hopped out, boots crunching on pebbles, and stretched like an old cat.

The river sang beside them, clear and icy cold, a bright mirror flashing under the wounded sky.

GhoulSpawn clambered from the driver’s seat, wiping his sweaty palms on his green coat.

“I’ll get the sheep.”

Quaraun remained seated, staring out the window, drinking in the impossible beauty. A breeze teased his jellyfish-silver hair, rippling the silk like liquid light.

“Come, Love,” BoomFuzzy said, reaching in and gently tugging Quaraun’s delicate mechanical hand. “Let’s breathe it in. Proper.”

Together, they stepped onto the soft bank. Grass squished underfoot. The air, rich with the scent of moss, wet earth, and awakening trees, filled their lungs. Quaraun shivered in delight.

GhoulSpawn clanged open the sheep pens, letting the herd spill out in a fuzzy flood of baa-ing chaos. He laughed when a lamb headbutted his knees, chasing after it, mud splattering up his fluffy digitigrade legs.

The sheep thundered down the slope, drinking greedily from the crystal river. BoomFuzzy leaned against the VW Bus, arms folded, watching with a fond smile.

Inside, the little food truck kitchen steamed up. BoomFuzzy bustled around, lighting a kettle on the stove. The scents of mint tea and clover honey filled the tight space.

Quaraun knelt on the carpeted floor, carefully laying out pink silk, thimbles, silver needles, and embroidery thread. His fingers worked meticulous stitches, building a swirling silver spiral into the fabric, while his prehensile hair lazily stirred a spoon in his tea without him even noticing.

By the time GhoulSpawn returned, soaked from lamb-chasing and dripping river water, BoomFuzzy already had a steaming plate of lemon cakes waiting.

“Glinta, ye daft goat,” BoomFuzzy said, laughing deep and warm, tossing the towel over the muddy Sheep Demon’s head. “How’d ya get so muddy?”

GhoulSpawn flopped onto the floor beside Quaraun, gnawing a lemon cake in three quick bites. He stretched out, sighing, while the sheep bleated contentedly nearby.

Outside, the valley buzzed with soft, happy noises: hammering as wagons got repaired, laughter as children chased each other through budding trees, pots clanking as campfires sprang up.

No screaming. No gunshots. No zombies clawing out of sewer grates.

Just the river murmuring. The grass rustling.

Quaraun leaned his fragile frame against BoomFuzzy’s solid warmth, sighing through his nose. The Unicorn King’s tartan smelled of woodsmoke, crushed clover, and old leather. His fingers found BoomFuzzy’s and laced them together.

The comet-shattered sky glowed faint pink on the horizon, a blush of colour rarely seen anymore. The world didn’t feel dead.

The world breathed. And so did they.

Here, far from the crumbling cities and the savage gangs, there was nothing but peace.

Love.

Life.

And the endless soft song of springtime by the river.

Nope… Here’s a Part 2:

Springtime by the River — Evening

Quaraun leaned heavily on his jewelled cane, squinting up at the broken silver disc of the Moon. Fractured. Hanging low and tired in the lavender twilight. The comet dust thinned to a bruised purple mist, letting thin streaks of sunlight bleed through. A tiny reprieve from the endless winter.

Beside him, GhoulSpawn unlatched the massive doors of one of the big rigs. From the cavernous interior, bleating yaks and clucking chickens tumbled out, crowding the damp grass in a jubilant stampede.

Quaraun flicked open his Rainbow Wand. A high, soft whirrr sounded from the intricate mechanisms inside.

“Silver setting,” he muttered under his breath. A bubble of energy shimmered into being — a translucent barrier, pearlescent in the falling light. It rippled outward in a wide dome, stretching to protect the entire valley floor.

Safe.

The livestock spread out into the misty fields. GhoulSpawn whistled sharply between two fingers, sending the Hell hounds racing after a stubborn billy goat who tried bolting for the riverbank.

Satisfied, Quaraun limped back towards camp, the hem of his pink silk robes dragging wet grass seeds. His cane clicked against smooth stones. BoomFuzzy’s food truck glowed warm and golden against the coldening dusk. Bright banners of purple and tartan cloth flapped from the awning, casting lively shadows.

Inside, the kitchen buzzed. Goblin sous-chefs — stout and grinning — worked like a clockwork machine, chopping mountains of cabbage, soaking bird-nest rounds of dry ramen noodles, stacking baskets of wild mushrooms plucked fresh from the valley’s shaded trees. Steam clouded the windows, fragrant with curry spices, and the deep earthy aroma of dried shiitake.

BoomFuzzy barked orders in a riot of Scottish brogue and Cockney slang, twirling his black hakama with every pivot between pots.

“Git those noodles in cold watar, ye bleedin’ daft bastards! Aye, don’cha boil them dry like last Tuesday, or I’ll skin yer bollocks for bootlaces!”

Quaraun smiled faintly, pushing open the food truck’s side door and letting the heat pour out into the chill air.

BoomFuzzy spotted him instantly.

“Love!” he boomed, bounding over and scooping Quaraun up in a rib-cracking hug. “Me bonnie wee JellyElf! Camp’s nearly ready for supper, an’ by the Sweet Mother Moon, this broth’ll put hair on yer arse an’ wings on yer soul!”

Quaraun gasped, laughing as BoomFuzzy nuzzled him. His prosthetic hands gripped the Faerie’s tartan vest, steadying himself against the familiar tightness of BoomFuzzy’s arms.

“You are cooking Ma Chay tonight?”

“Aye! Cabbage broth, curry spice, mushrooms fat as yer fist, an’ noodles like silk ropes! Eh? What say ye? Fill yer dainty wee belly, Love?”

Outside, long tables unfolded. Lanterns swayed from bamboo poles. Quaraun’s half-Elf children shrieked with glee, chasing each other barefoot through the puddles, their braids flying behind them.

The UnSeelie Court bustled like a miniature city, vibrant and chaotic, alive with the simple business of living.

GhoulSpawn wandered over, mud up to his knees, a lamb perched awkwardly over his shoulders.

“Some of the smaller ones need bottle feeding,” he said, cheeks flushed. “I’ll get to it after dinner. They’re drinking straight from the river, though. It’s…so clean here, Quaraun. I don’t think I’ve ever seen water this clear in my entire life.”

“It is paradise,” Quaraun murmured. “A small, rare paradise.”

BoomFuzzy clapped both of them on the back.

“An’ it’ll stay ours, long as we keep them fuckin’ zombie arseholes out, eh? Good thing yer bubble’s up, Love. Now, let’s eat before the sheep bloody do!”

Goblins wove between the tables, handing out bowls — each one deep and heavy, filled with fragrant broth so rich it steamed even in the crisp spring air. One perfect nest of plump noodles floated in each bowl, coiled like a sleeping dragon, crowned with wilted cabbage and earthy mushrooms. Curry oil glistened in golden rings on the surface, its sharp, mouthwatering tang cutting the cold like a knife.

Quaraun tucked in eagerly, using ivory chopsticks carved with ancient Faerie runes.

The broth slid down his throat in a rush of peppery heat and sweet green freshness. The noodles snapped between his teeth — tender, resilient, tasting faintly of the grassy valley.

Beside him, BoomFuzzy slurped noisily, grinning through curry-streaked teeth.

“Mmmm! Better than shaggin’!” he crowed.

“Unicorn!” Quaraun scolded, flushing bright pink to match his robes.

GhoulSpawn laughed so hard he almost dropped his bowl.

Down by the river, the sheep bleated sleepily, curling into puffy mounds as the last light faded. Hell hounds circled them, snarling low at anything that rustled the grass. The stars pricked through the comet haze in delicate bruised clusters.

The caravan settled into a peaceful rhythm — low conversations, the clink of bowls, occasional bursts of giggles from the younger children chasing fireflies. Someone strummed a battered lute. Someone else lit a bonfire.

BoomFuzzy leaned over, plucking stray rice noodles from Quaraun’s hair.

“Look at ye,” he murmured. “A bloody noodle nest for a crown. Me King of Noodles. Me wee pink JellyElf.”

Quaraun pressed his face into BoomFuzzy’s tartan vest, breathing deep the comforting musk of woodsmoke, fried cabbage, and Phooka fur.

For tonight, there were no ruins. No gangs. No zombies.

Only the steady river, the taste of curry on the wind, and the safe warmth of love wrapping tight around them all.

Tomorrow, the world could burn.

Tonight, they feasted under the fractured Moon, and the stars sang over the river.

This story is published in:

• Three Wizards and a Food Truck

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Includes the following stories: Wishing For Lobster Rolls: A Lesson In Why One Never Makes Wishes In The Presence of Wizards The Food Truck's Warm Protective Embrace Absinthe Slushies: An Ode to Frozen Green Fairy Wine Sticky Rice, Bare Fingers, and Slippery Chopsticks Kiss Me FA: Just Another Day in the Ice-Laced Ruins of The GodForsaken City The Bridge of Doom Zwodder: A Drowsy Stupid State of Mind Head Cheese: A Story of Cauliflower, Cruelty, and Carnage Apple Tart and Stargazing Sheer Terror: Rotten Fruit The Candy Corn Cult Vendetta over Vittles Coleslaw To Go With the Lobster Rolls, of Course! BoomFuzzy's Chowder Dilemma Eels Beneath the Ice Why You Should Never Insult the JellyElf in a Street Market Blueberries and Bravado The Curse of the Cloaked Crustacean Dystopia, Doom, and Dark Romance with Custard Pastries in the Parking Lot Snowstorm Sabotage Sea Slugs and Clam Chowder Bread Bowls The Price of Generosity A Mess of Porridge Chocolate Bliss Springtime by the River Springtime by the River: Evening Stolen Midnight Magic Cracked Carnival The Apple Stall in 3 Perspectives Chocolate in the Neon Shadows Mint, Madness, and Motor Parts Spinning Dreams in Silk Quaraun & BoomFuzzy: The Ultimate Power Couple

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

BoomFuzzy King Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn: Quaraun's husband, BoomFuzzy aka King Gwallmaiic, a Scottish Phooka, who is King of The UnSeelie Court. Quaraun is his court mage and advisor, as well as the only Elf in The UnSeelie Court. BoomFuzzy is a "classic fantasy type" Necromancer who uses sorcery to raise the dead. Being a Faerie he is also an illusionist and master of trickster magic. By profession, he is a Master Chef, owning the global monopoly on restaurants, taverns, pubs, and food trucks. Until his death, BoomFuzzy was regarded as the world's most powerful wizard. He is now a Lich. BoomFuzzy is also half-Human. His mother was a Mongolian/Chinese Human, which is why he wears distinctively Asian outfits, along with a great kilt worn as a cape. Known as BoomFuzzy the Unicorn, he often takes the form of a purple Unicorn. BoomFuzzy's exact age is unknown, though he was well over two thousand years old at the time of his death, and Quaraun resurrected him as a Lich around 500+ years ago, making him close to 3,000 years old. In his BlackBird form he is fifteen thousand years old. Art by Wendy Christine Allen

Quaraun Quaraun the Insane aka The Pink Necromancer: The F2M transgender Persian Moon Elf main character: The Pink Necromancer, Quaraun The Insane, with BoomFuzzy the Unicorn. F2M for those unaware = Quaraun was biologically born female, but transitioned to live as a male; this is why there are stories where Quaraun is sometimes pregnant, in spite of being male and using he/him male pronouns. Quaraun is a Necromancer by the actual dictionary definition of the word, meaning he is a psychic medium who sees and hears ghosts, and uses tarot, spirit boards, and seances to communicate with the dead. By profession he is a silk weaver/tailor/silk merchant. Quaraun is an Elder God JellyFish who takes the form of an Elf to blend in with society. His 12 foot long hair is made out of venomous, stinging jellyfish tentacles. Quaraun is BoomFuzzy's apprentice and regarded as the world's most powerful still living wizard. Quaraun's exact age is unknown, but he is somewhere around 750 years old. In his SunTa form he is twelve thousand years old. The Scared Pink JellyFish that lives in him, is stated to being over two million years old. Art by Wendy Christine Allen

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

Main characters: The Pink Necromancer, Quaraun (A Moon Elf) and his husband King Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy aka The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, Lich King of Fire Mountain (A Phooka/Faerie).

BoomFuzzy is King of The UnSeelie Court;

Quaraun is his Court Mage;

GhoulSpawn (not pictured) is Quaraun’s apprentice.

They are the world’s three most evil super villains, though they do not see themselves as evil. They own the world’s only functioning BioDome and thus hold the world’s monopoly on crops, food, livestock, and fabric, holding the Human population at their sadistic mercy.

These stories are told from their point of view.

 — — Art by Wendy Christine Allen

Meet The Characters

Books By Wendy Christine Allen
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An Index of the more than TWO THOUSAND Quaraun Short Stories on Medium

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Index of the Quaraun short stories on Vocal

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

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