The Moon That Hungers

{TW: LSD and Opium use}

The Moon That Hungers

Quaraun’s silver hair glistened in the soft glow of the tent’s lanterns, its jellyfish-like tendrils trailing across the silk-strewn floor as he leaned over the merchant’s table. The hematite stones glimmered beneath his fingers, their dark metallic sheen mirroring the fractured moonlight spilling in through the rose-coloured canopy. Cold, smooth, and unnervingly heavy, the stones seemed to drink in his warmth, grounding him amidst his scattered thoughts.

He picked one up, cradling it in his mechanical gold hand, its weight pressing into his palm like an anchor tethering him to the earth. The sensation calmed his racing mind, momentarily quieting the relentless buzz of voices and fragmented images that often plagued him.

Quaraun closed his eyes, letting the cold seep into his skin.

“Ye’re nae buyin’ them shiny rocks tae eat, are ye, Love?” BoomFuzzy’s rough brogue cut through the quiet, laced with teasing warmth.

Quaraun opened his eyes to find BoomFuzzy lounging at the edge of the pink silk tent, his grey dreadlocks cascading over his shoulders. He wore his usual black hakama and purple tartan great kilt, a weathered crystal skull resting against one hip, and an obsidian dagger tucked into the other. A lopsided grin spread across his bearded face, his silver-cataract eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Why would I eat stones?” Quaraun asked, his voice soft, melodic, though tinged with irritation.

“Because when the cravings hit ya, ye eat everythin’ else I cook, Love, includin’ the gingerbread I burnt this mornin’.”

Quaraun sniffed, turning his gaze back to the hematite.

“I do not eat everything. You merely insist on feeding me.”

“Aye, ’cause ye need it. Yer belly’s rounder than usual these days. Wee pink JellyElf’s got a wee secret, aye?”

BoomFuzzy sidled closer, his steps soundless against the layered silks carpeting the tent.

Quaraun stiffened, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. His fingers tightened around the stone, and for a moment, his mind flitted elsewhere — snowy coasts, the BioDome’s radiant gardens, the warm, chaotic safety of their caravan. Anywhere but here.

“Leave me alone,” Quaraun muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

BoomFuzzy knelt beside him, his presence radiating heat and the familiar scent of clove-spiced gingerbread. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing Quaraun’s as he plucked a stone from the pile. His touch was both grounding and electrifying, steadying the chaotic swirl of Quaraun’s thoughts.

“These wee rocks,” BoomFuzzy said, rolling the hematite between his thumb and forefinger. “Remind me of ye. Cold tae the touch, heavy wi’ secrets, but polished, aye? Pretty.”

Quaraun’s blush deepened, and he turned his face away.

Quaraun said nothing, his gaze fixed on the stones. BoomFuzzy’s hand brushed his cheek, coaxing him to look up. The Faerie’s cataract-clouded silver eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside — the snow-covered wastelands, the endless hordes of undead — ceased to exist.

“I bought these for the children,” Quaraun admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “They like shiny things.”

BoomFuzzy’s grin widened.

“And here I thought ye’d take up jewellery-makin’ again, just tae spite me.”

“I might.”

BoomFuzzy laughed, then pulled Quaraun into his arms, ignoring the Elf’s half-hearted protests. The embrace was warm, the scent of his tartan mingling with the faint aroma of rosewater that clung to Quaraun’s robes.

“Ya dinnae have tae carry it all alone, Love,” BoomFuzzy murmured, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “Let me help ya, aye?”

Quaraun melted into the embrace, his jellyfish hair tangling with BoomFuzzy’s woolly dreadlocks. He felt the solid warmth of the Faerie’s chest, the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat, grounding him further.

For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world lifted, leaving only the comforting presence of the man he loved.

The tent flap rustled, and GhoulSpawn’s skittish frame appeared in the opening. His gold-rimmed glasses perched crookedly on his nose, and his green coat was dusted with frost. He held up a battered book, its leather cover cracked and worn.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I found this in the ruins. It’s…uh…sewing. Thought you’d, um, want it,” GhoulSpawn stammered, his eyes darting nervously between them.

BoomFuzzy waved him over with a wide grin.

“C’mon in, ya woolly sod. The JellyElf’s got his nose in shiny rocks again.”

GhoulSpawn hesitated before shuffling inside, the faint scent of sheep wool clinging to him. He handed the book to Quaraun, who accepted it with a soft: “Thank you.”

As the three settled around the low table, Quaraun passed some of the hematite stones to GhoulSpawn.

“For you,” Quaraun said simply.

GhoulSpawn blinked in surprise.

“Me?”

Quaraun nodded, his expression unreadable.

“You like to tinker. Perhaps you can use them for…something.”

BoomFuzzy leaned back, his grin wicked.

“Aye, or jus’ keep ’em for lookin’ at. Wee round stones for a wee round Sheepie.”

GhoulSpawn blushed furiously, muttering something about ‘crude Faeries’ under his breath, but his fingers closed around the stones nonetheless.

The lantern light flickered, casting long shadows across the tent’s pink silk walls.

The spirit board gleamed faintly in the lantern light, nestled on a rose-embroidered silk pillow atop Quaraun’s lap. He’d arranged the hematite stones in a circle around the wooden board, their metallic luster like liquid blood in the fractured moonlight. The pendulum — a polished shard of hematite suspended from a fine silver chain — dangled over the centre.

Quaraun’s breath fogged in the cold. The tent smelled of sea salt, scorched sugar, and burnt gingerbread crust. BoomFuzzy muttered curses over the campfire grill, scraping charred bits of burned gingerbread off a cracked cast-iron pan. The Faerie’s purple kilt swayed as he knelt to flip lobster rolls with a twig-split spatula.

“Ya best no’ be openin’ a portal again,” BoomFuzzy called over his shoulder. “Last time ya summoned intergalactic fuckin’ frogs what pissed acid.”

“I did not summon them. They came of their own volition,” Quaraun muttered. His voice wavered. He licked the LSD-laced sugar cube slowly, letting it dissolve before sipping the absinthe. Sweet, syrupy, bitter green fire down his throat.

The pendulum swung.

Not left. Not right. Spinning.

Quaraun froze. His silver tentacle-hair coiled protectively around his shoulders. One tendril tapped the board. Letters glimmered faintly beneath the hematite disc as it spun, faster and faster, clinking against the stone edge of the spirit circle.

“What does it mean?” Quaraun whispered. “What are you showing me?”

BOOM.

Quaraun jolted.

Not the tent. Not thunder. In his mind. A flash — of the Moon crumbling like sugar candy, a vast gelatinous blob rising from the sea, all mouths, no eyes, devouring cloud and starlight.

Another sip. Another spin.

The pendulum pointed.

Z
E
R
O

“What is zero?” Quaraun asked the spirits. “A countdown? A void? The end of time?”

“Or ya just high outta yer tits,” BoomFuzzy said behind him, tossing a roll onto a wooden plate. “Eat. Ya hallucinate less when ye eat.”

“I cannot eat. I am reading.”

“Ya’re readin’ nonsense off a shiny rock.”

“It is not nonsense!” Quaraun hissed. “There is a being. On the other side. I hear it.”

BoomFuzzy crouched beside him, wiping grease off his purple tartan.

“Ya hearin’ yer own thoughts echoin’ inside that overstuffed noggin.”

Quaraun didn’t answer. His hands trembled. His mechanical fingers clinked against the stone. The pendulum danced. His breath quickened.

“Glinta!” he cried. “Fetch me the lead shielding plates. The hematite is picking up magnetic interference from the Fractured Moon!”

GhoulSpawn looked up from his pile of gears and broken drone wings.

“That’s not how magnetism works.”

“It is exactly how it works,” Quaraun snapped. “The Moon is hollow and full of bees and the bees have quantum wings and — ”

BoomFuzzy shoved the lobster roll into his hand.

“Eat the damned sandwich, Love.”

“I am being contacted by interdimensional slime gods!”

“Then they can leave a message after supper.”

Quaraun paused. He bit the sandwich. Buttered roll. Celery crunch. Rich vegan lobster. A deep sigh escaped him.

BoomFuzzy smiled.

“He’s takin’ too much again,” GhoulSpawn muttered, arms crossed, green coat wrapped tight against the icy wind that slipped through the seams of the pink silk tent.

The scent of absinthe, burnt opium, and candied sugar cubes drifted thick as fog.

“Aye. I ken it.” BoomFuzzy snorted from the food crate he sat on, sharpening one of his obsidian daggers. “Six cubes. That’s nae ‘nuff tae touch a Faerie’s dream, but fer a wee Elf wi’ his brain already in the clouds…”

GhoulSpawn stepped cautiously closer.

“That’s… not good. He’s combining that with absinthe again, isn’t he?”

They both turned to look at Quaraun, seated in his usual lotus sprawl on a velvet mat littered with shiny hematite stones and glowing rose-crystal lanterns. His fingers fluttered like birds over his spirit board — etched obsidian trimmed with twisted silver vines and jellyfish runes. The pendulum swung in lazy arcs. Tarot cards fanned out like feathers beside him. His twelve-foot-long tentacle-hair writhed slowly, reacting to the storm outside.

“I am calm,” Quaraun snapped, not looking up, voice dreamy and far away.

“Ya ain’t calm.”

“Calm is subjective.”

“Ya’re chattin’ wi’ Moon gods again. That’s no’ calm, that’s schizofucked.”

“I am communing, Unicorn. There is a difference.”

“Yer communin’ wi’ chemical hallucinations.”

“They are divine revelations!”

Quaraun huffed dramatically and, because they told him to calm down, reached into the lacquered glass box beside him. He carefully withdrew one of his elaborate opium pipes. This one was shaped like a sea slug — an iridescent nudibranch, its fluted ridges curling in pinks and oranges. The pipe’s glass shimmered like nacre, the mouthpiece tapering from bright coral to deep reef-blue. The bowl nestled in the creature’s undulating back.

Quaraun lit it with a flick of flint and inhaled deeply.

“This,” he exhaled, eyes rolling back in bliss. “Is the proper way to calm one’s nerves.”

BoomFuzzy sighed. “Ya ken, I’ve seen heroin junkies wi’ more self-control than ya, Love.”

“I am a seer,” Quaraun whispered reverently, puffing his pipe again. “And I am seeing.”

“Ya’re a drug addict,” BoomFuzzy said. “And ya having a hallucination. Yis taking too much of that stuff.”

“I heard that,” Quaraun said sharply, not lifting his head. His voice had a singsong lilt, distracted and dreamy. “And I do not take too much. I take the perfect amount.”

BoomFuzzy strode across the tent with his tartan swinging around his legs and plucked the tray of LSD-laced sugar cubes from Quaraun’s cluttered table without a word.

“Unicorn!” Quaraun whined, reaching for the tray, only to have BoomFuzzy shove a warm lobster roll into his mechanical hands instead.

“Eat. Ye’ve nae had proper food since the gingerbread went tae Hell.”

“I like the sugar cubes,” Quaraun protested, nose wrinkling.

BoomFuzzy gave him a flat look, then stole the absinthe bottle next, trading it for a thick tin mug of scorched black coffee.

“Ya’ll like this better. It’ll stop ya from talkin’ tae the bloody Moon again.”

“But she’s talking to me!” Quaraun exclaimed, sloshing yet another opium pipe in his other hand dramatically.

This one was seafoam green, shaped like a curled squid, each delicate tentacle wrapping around the bowl like translucent fingers. Its eyes were tiny opals, glowing faintly with each puff. The stem coiled like a conch shell’s spiral, ridged and iridescent.

Quaraun brought it to his lips and lit the bowl, the opium-rich smoke unfurling like sea mist in the tent’s warm air.

“The Jelloid Moon Beast has teeth,” Quaraun said matter-of-factly. “Very sharp. Like broken mirrors.”

GhoulSpawn rubbed his temples.

“Quaraun…”

“He said I am the only one who listens. The rest of you are fools, ignoring the signs. He showed me the dream again. The second comet. It comes with wings. Wings of maggots. Thousands.”

Quaraun drew a tarot card and slapped it on the mat: The Tower.

He leaned forward, flipping another tarot card — The Moon. He tossed more hematite stones across the board, tracing letters with his gold prosthetic finger. Quaraun lowered the pendulum. Asked questions. Waited. Murmured.

He wasn’t stopping. He never stopped once the spirits started speaking.

“The Moon Goddess is gone,” Quaraun whispered suddenly, eyes wide and glassy. “Something’s taken her place. Something Jellied. Slimy. It wears her face but it has no soul — no shine. It speaks to me. Only me. The cards say so. The stones say so. The pendulum swings true.”

BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn shared another long look.

Quaraun pressed his fingers to the spirit board. “The Jelloid Moon Beast answers all. It has many names. One name for each tooth.”

“How many teeth’s it got, then?” BoomFuzzy asked.

“All of them,” Quaraun whispered. “Every tooth the world has lost. Every tusk. Every fang. It feeds on ivory. It feeds on bone. It is hungry for skulls.”

GhoulSpawn leaned in, whispering to BoomFuzzy, “The drugs are locking him into a narrative.”

“Aye,” BoomFuzzy muttered. “He’s convinced himself the Moon’s gon’ eat us.”

“Because it will,” Quaraun snapped. “It’s growing. I can feel it. See it. It hungers for the dead. For the unliving. Like you, Unicorn.”

BoomFuzzy raised an eyebrow. “Oh aye? The Moon’s got a taste fer Lich meat now, does it?”

“Yes!” Quaraun pointed the opium pipe at him like a prophet with a holy relic. “The Moon speaks to me through this pipe. It whispers in squid-song. I am chosen.”

The tent flapped as a cold gust blew in, tugging the silk and snuffing one of the lanterns. Quaraun yelped and clutched the opium pipe close to his chest.

“You see! The Moon Beast tries to silence me!”

BoomFuzzy dropped a blanket over Quaraun’s shoulders and gently pushed the tarot deck aside.

“Alright, Love. Time tae lie down. The Moon’ll still be there tomorrow. Screamin’ wi’ teeth and all.”

“I have to finish the reading.”

“No, ye don’t.”

“I am not tired!” Quaraun protested.

“Ya’re ain’t sober either.”

Quaraun puffed his cheeks, his silver tentacle-hair writhing restlessly around him, glowing faintly in the lamp light like bioluminescent sea creatures.

BoomFuzzy sat beside him, one arm curled around Quaraun’s shoulders, drawing him closer.

“Just rest, JellyElf. Jus’ for a bit.”

“But the Beast — " Quaraun’s eyes darted to the spirit board.

“Will be waitin’ for ya in yer dreams, aye?” BoomFuzzy said soothingly. “Ya can parley wi’ him there.”

GhoulSpawn handed him a second mug of coffee.

“No sugar cubes this time. Just bean juice. Promise.”

Grumbling, Quaraun sipped it, then curled in BoomFuzzy’s lap, hair twitching like antennae. He cast one last glance at the Moon through the tent’s thin canopy.

“It has eyes,” Quaraun whispered. “So many eyes…”

BoomFuzzy pulled the blankets tighter around him.

“Aye. But I’ve got daggers and a kettle full o’ rage. Let it try.”

“…You will protect me?”

“Always, me wee pink stoner.”

Outside, the wind howled again, but inside the rose-pink silk tent, the lobster rolls steamed, the coffee stayed hot, and the Moon hung silently — unblinking, unknowable,… just watching.

Suddenly, Quaraun lept up, scurried back to his card deck.

“The Moon is watching, but it’s not the Moon. The Moon has been replaced!”

“I’m takin’ this,” BoomFuzzy said gently, and with practised sleight, removed the absinthe bottle from Quaraun’s side.

Quaraun didn’t even notice; he was too busy gasping at the pendulum’s next answer.

BoomFuzzy handed him a mug of thick black coffee instead.

Quaraun sipped without complaint.

“The Jelloid Moon Beast is drawing closer,” Quaraun continued. “I can feel it. The sky tightens. My tentacles are twitching. The sea glows wrong. It will eat the Earth.”

“Quaraun.” GhoulSpawn sat down beside the high High Elf. “You need to sleep. Your brain’s tangled in too many chemicals.”

“The signs say it is coming,” Quaraun said.

“They always say that,” BoomFuzzy said. “Ye wrote ’em yerself. Its all just a hallucination.”

“I do not hallucinate." Quaraun’s eyes filled with tears.

“Quaraun,” GhoulSpawn said. “You’re talkin’ to a squid-shaped pipe and callin’ it the Goddess of the Moon.”

“Because it is! She is! Or — was. And now the Beast — It — pretends.”

“Aye. I know, Love.” BoomFuzzy slid an arm around him. “But the Moon’s no’ eatin’ anyone tonight. It’s tired. Like yis. And when ya tired ya see things that is na there.”

Quaraun clutched his cane in one hand, the opium pipe still smouldering between his fingers. His pupils were wide, dilated — blue eyes blown out into moons of panic, reflecting the fractured orb above. He backed up against BoomFuzzy, trembling, silk robes swishing with nervous rustles. His voice cracked, high and thin, shaking as violently as his hands.

“It is not the Moon. Unicorn… it… it is not the Moon!”

The High Elf pointed, jabbing the air with his Rainbow wWand, eyes locked on the sky like a deer caught mid-flight.

“Look at it, Unicorn! Look! Do not tell me you can not see it. The sky is boiling, writhing like jelly left too long in the sun. Dappled grey flesh, oozing with slime… and eyes, so many eyes — bulbous, weeping, blinking wetly in places a face should never have eyes!”

Quaraun clutched BoomFuzzy’s arm, gripping tight. The pipe in his other hand wafted sweet, spiced smoke — opium laced with rose oil and clove.

“It is… translucent… pale, like fish belly. With white eyes. Like the belly of a dead whale floating under ice. And it is not round — the thing is shifting, warping, sagging, undulating. Like a sack of rotted organs straining to hold itself together. Its teeth… by the gods, the teeth! I saw them, curling like the fangs of eels. Rows upon rows. Razor sharp. Moonlight gleaming off saliva. It’s hungry, Unicorn. The Great Jelloid Moon Beast is hungry!”

He swallowed, voice hitching, clutching at his chest.

“The Moon Goddess is gone! Swallowed! Replaced by that-that-that thing! It slithered in when no one looked and it wears her face like a mask. Like she’s stretched across it, like skin over pudding! But I can see it. I can see through the mask. I can see the truth!”

His silver jellyfish tentacle-hair writhed like it too feared the thing above.

“It speaks to me. It knows me. The pendulum told me. The cards showed me. I asked it questions and it… it moaned, like whale song — long, low, shuddering sounds in my skull. It’s inside me, Unicorn! I can feel it breathing through me. The air smells like salt and decay and wet sand and blood, like a beach after a shipwreck!”

Quaraun buried his face in BoomFuzzy’s chest, voice muffled and wild.

“It’s coming closer. I swear it. Every night, it’s lower. Soon it’ll scrape the mountain peaks. Then it’ll open that mouth, that pit of infinite hunger, and it’ll devour us all! Trees! Oceans! Bones! It’ll swallow the Earth whole, like a pearl sinking into a slug!”

His voice trailed off in a sobbing whisper.

“And we shall all slide down its throat and never be remembered…”

GhoulSpawn rubbed Quaraun’s back.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. Let the Moon Beast chew on someone else for a while.”

“But it’ll get us. When it gets closer. You will see.”

“Aye.” BoomFuzzy eased the opium pipe from Quaraun’s fingers and tucked him into the fur pile. “We’ll see. In the mornin’. After more coffee. And maybe a bath.”

“I like baths,” Quaraun said sleepily.

Quaraun mumbled something incoherent as he curled up, silver tentacle-hair twitching softly around him.

The pendulum swung once more.

Then still.

And outside, high above the comet-choked clouds, the Fractured Moon hung jagged and silent.

Watching.

Waiting.

Today’s story was brought to you by the letter M. For more M stories see here:

The Pink Necromancer Index: Part M -- An Alphabetical Index of my 1k+ Drabbles, Poems, Kishōtenketsu, & Other Short Fiction on Medium

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Index of the Quaraun short stories on GumRoad

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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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Index of the Quaraun Short Stories on Notd

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

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