Happy 2026!
It is our 30th anniversary here at Space Dock 13!
On the web since 1996!
You have encountered an extremely old website that continues to exist in old web ways, the same way it has done for now three decades.
In spite of being now 30 years old this year, started in 1996, it is still heavily active and old pages updated daily, new pages added daily, still now in 2026. All hand written, all hand coded (no AI), all by me, same as it ever was.
We Still Exist: The Old Web Did Not Go Away, You Just Forgot How To Find Us
|
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. |


|
|
|
|
|
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:
|
My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.
As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.
There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.
The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.
There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Update Sept 3, 2026:
I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.
I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy.
|
update sept 7, 2026
"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?
I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.
So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.
see video below for more information:
@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
update Sept 15, 2026:
I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed
you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?
all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,
well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.
waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.
update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine
Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.
Quaraun did not look up when the entire royal family and all their guards and most of their servants showed up at his shop.
"The Gnome, brought you here? I shouldn't have expected anything less of Mother's most loyal servant."
"Don't you dare talk about your mother in that tone of voice," his father said.
"I wish you'd died instead of her. She didn't treat me like shit, like you do."
"How dare you! You insolent brat!"
The old Elf lunged forward to strike his son, but Quaraun stood up and glared at him, looking every bit like he intended to fight back. His father was so startled to see Quaraun react that he stopped dead in his tracks and didn't get any closer to Quaraun.
"Quaraun," the king got between his brother and nephew. "Come back to the palace. Your soul is damaged. We can find healers to repair it."
"No. I have work to do." Quaraun strolled across the room and began pulling materials off shelves. "I have clients waiting for orders to be filled. These things are not going to get made on their own."
"Quaraun, you are royalty, you should not be working like a commoner."
"I like working like a commoner. I have more in common with commoners then I do any of you."
"Quaraun."
"I don't want to talk to you. Any of you. I don't want to see you. I wish you would all drop dead."
There was a dead silence from the Elves. For Quaraun to wish someone dead was a very bad thing.
"Quaraun."
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Quaraun spun around and shoved the king away from him.
Both Elves backed away. Quaraun had never raised his voice to either of them before. He'd never raised his voice to anyone. He'd never laid his hands on anyone before either, let alone the king. Quaraun was a coward. Everyone knew this. It was easy for people to hit him, tease him, bully him, and push him around, because he never stood up for himself. He always cowered on the floor and took what ever beating anyone gave him. He was timid, weak, and scared and no one had ever expected him to defend himself against anyone.
"Quaraun," his father said more calmly them before. "Come back to the palace with us and we'll find a way to help you."
"Help? There is nothing wrong with me that killing the two of you won't cure."
The king and Quaraun's father began arguing, periodically both yelling at Quaraun, but he did not listen to their words. He went back to sewing pink tourmaline beads on the pink silk heart in his hands. Quaraun only stopped what he was doing to listen when he heard one of them mention BoomFuzzy's name. The king was ordering his guards to go to BoomFuzzy's candy shop and bring the offending half-Elf here.
"He is not there," Quaraun said, as he set the beaded heart on his lap.
"Where is he?" Quaraun's father demand.
"He's gone."
"We will send the guards to find him then."
"You will not find him. You will never find him."
"Where is BoomFuzzy?"
"BoomFuzzy's dead."
"Dead?" the old Elf looked viably shocked and worried. Threats to kill BoomFuzzy had long been the only control he'd had over Quaraun. As much as he threatened to kill the candy maker, he needed the candy maker alive in order to intimidate his son into obedience. BoomFuzzy being dead changed things.
"No! He can't be dead," the king said quietly.”That's very bad. Oh poor Quaraun.”
While his father was upset at the lose of a way to control his son with threats about BoomFuzzy, the king was more upset over the dangers of the broken soul bond. While BoomFuzzy was alive the bond could be repaired, undone and severed slowly without too much damage, but with BoomFuzzy dead, the bond was already broken, Quaraun would likely pine away from grief. Either that or become very bitter and very violently dangerous. He could also see that it was clear Quaraun blamed them for BoomFuzzy's death.
"Quaraun," the king said soothingly. "We did nothing to him. How is it he is dead?"
"BoomFuzzy is dead. The bond is broken. You can both be happy now, but I never will be again."
"Are you certain he is dead?"
"Oh, yes. He was my bonded mate and you convinced him that I betrayed him. He was overcome with grief and he killed himself. I loved him. The bond has broken and I hate you."
"Do you have any idea what you have done?” Quaraun's father was yelling at him again. “That ritual is forbidden. You've torn your soul in half. You've ripped your mind apart. Without your bonded mate, you'll be driven mad with sorrow and grief. You'll go insane."
"People say I already am insane."
"There are rare instances," the King said. "Where an Elf can heal from a broken bond and rebind with another. It is almost unheard of, but it has been done. You can bond again."
"I will not bond with another. I loved BoomFuzzy. I will never bond with another."
"Quaraun, stop talking nonsense. You're young. You were too young to bond with anyone yet. The bond will not have been that strong, you'll heal and bond again. BoomFuzzy wasn't right for you."
"BoomFuzzy was perfect for me."
"You have a wife now."
"SHE'S NOT MY WIFE! MARRIAGE BY RAPE IS NOT MARRIAGE!"
"You will have children with her."
"I will never willingly touch her."
The old Elf grabbed his son's arm and shook him.
"You insolent brat..."
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
"Quaraun, you are returning to the palace, with BoomFuzzy out of the way, you can focus on your wife and children."
"I have no wife or children. I never will."
"You have a wife and you'll have children with her wither you want to or not. We'll see to that."
"Oh I don't doubt you'll do just that, you already held me down for her to rape me once, HERE'S NO REASON TO THINK YOU WON'T DO IT AGAIN!"
"You belong at the palace with your family."
"You are not my family. My mother was my family. BoomFuzzy was my family. My family is dead. You killed them both. I'll go no where with you."
~o0o~
There was a sadness around him, in his face, in his expression, in his heart. For days Quaraun sat and said nothing.
Did nothing.
Only stared at the wall.
The others worried.
And talked.
And whispered.
But none dare get near him.
They knew what they had done.
This time, they had gone too far.
What started as a prank.
A joke.
A bully.
It cost the old chef his life. He was too old. Too sad. Too weak. Too sick. The sadness had overwhelmed him, that, alone with the pain from his festering wound, so badly infected and not healing at all.
The timing had been bad, very bad. He simply could not take it any more.
The pain.
The suffering.
He had enduring it for months, saying nothing. But through it all, there had been joy.
Love.
Happiness.
The warm embrace and the gentle kiss of a devoted young lover. But the lover had left. He didn't know why. Like so m
any other lovers before, gone, he thought forever.
It was with a heavy heart that the candy chef shut down his shop and retreated into the back room, to sit for many long hours, waiting, hoping, for his lover's return.
But then came the news. That terrible, horrible news. Married to another, and so soon after leaving. His heart couldn't take it, the lose of yet another love. He had thought this one was different, this love was true. It was with a broken heart that he drank the poison, his soul slipping away into oblivion, welcoming the cold embrace of death, to sooth his troubled mind and wipe away at last the pain and sorrow.
Through the blurred eyes of death, he saw a final vision. His lover, come back, returned. With tears in his eyes and anguish in his heart, he embraced his dying love.
The marriage had been a sham, a lie, a prank play on them both by the others. There had never been another and now it was too late.
The old candy maker lay dead in his arms, and no one dared speak. For they knew what they had done.
This prank had gone too far.
Quaraun wandered around the village in a daze.
Looking at no one.
Talking to no one.
Seeing no one.
The others were grateful that he was an outcast Elf and they were not feeling with him, his sadness through the hive mind bond.
No one dared tease him now.
Children ran from his sight.
No one said anything.
No one dared touch him.
They shivered and waited in terror for him to do something, anything.
The pink robed wizard, was quiet and sullen. More quiet and more sullen then he had ever been before.
For days he sat and said nothing. No one knew what to do. No one had ever seen him like this. Shut down and alone. So very alone. The look in his eyes, there was was nothing there any more...
Nothing.
BoomFuzzy was dead.
Nothing but emptiness, pain, and sorrow remained.
The soul binding ritual was a sacred thing and also a dangerous thing. In times of old all Elves did it with their mates, but that was in the days when Elves ruled the world and were plentiful. Elves were rare now. The Elves were fast in danger of extinction and had become so rare, that Humans no longer identified the separate races of Elves, not even realizing there were separate races.
Elves lived in small close knit communities, with every Elf in the tribe or clan, being psychically connected. Each Elf knowing the joys and sorrows of the other. Each Elf able to comfort in unison any Elf that is hurt or sad. Each Elf able to send happy thoughts to the minds of each Elf in the unit. Elves lived in peace and harmony through their hive mind. The hive mind was why Elves had no need to show emotions. They could feel each others emotions the instant they were felt in one Elf. Elves thrives on this connection they had with one another and without it, an Elf cut off from the link often became deeply depressed from the lose of their connection to their kin. To be cut off from the hive mind and cast out of the connection to his kin, was the worst punishment there was for an Elf. It was an act so server, a punishment so harsh, that it was rarely done. Cutting the psychic binds of the hive mind was a punishment worse then death for an Elf. They were communal creatures in desperate need of each other for survival.
Poor Quaraun, he'd been cut off and cast out of the hive mind.
Excommunicated from his people, unloved, unaccepted, unwanted,
Quaraun had sunk to lonely depths of depression.
While the hive connection to the community was strong, the soul bond connection to a soul mate was stronger. When two Elves fell in love, they preformed a ritual, cutting their souls in two and exchanging them, so that each Elf had with-in them half of the other's soul. The soul binding connection was stronger and deeper then the hive mind, with the couple knowing each other's thoughts as well as emotions.
There were many dangers to the ritual, however. Should one of the pair die, it left the other with it's soul literally torn into two pieces, while half of a dead soul swallowed itself becoming a dark empty nothingness within them. Because the emotions of a broken soul bond are so overpowering, the surviving Elf will also be cut off from the hive mind in the community's attempt to save the community from being sucked into the black void that now exists where half a soul should be. Elves who survive a broken soul bond, rarely recover, often going mad, becoming deranged lunatics, eventually taking their own life just to end their suffering.
An even worse horror came when soul bound Elves, in an attempt to repair their broken souls, used Necromancy to find their dead lovers and ask for the lost half of their soul to be returned. It was only than that a dark horror was discovered. A soul bound Elf could take pieces of their soul and trap them in a bottle, then kill themselves and remain alive through undeath forever. Thus the Lich making ritual was discovered. Elves mad from broken soul bonds, took up Necromancy to ease their suffering, and soon Liches walked the land. Humans, not understanding what a Lich was or how they came to be made, sought to perfect the Lich spell so that any race, not just Elves could cut up their soul and live forever.
While the soul bound Elves sought Lichdom as a relief from their pain and suffering, a way to finally rest in peace, the Humans saw it as a way to achieve eternal life, in turn thinking that with such eternal life, they could amass wealth and power. Thus the Lich making ritual, once a way to allow a suffering Elf to find a peaceful death, became corrupted and twisted by men and turned into a horrific ritual that created the evillest monsters ever dreamed of.
And thus the soul binding ritual came to be forbidden. The madness that came with a broken connection was so great a risk, that the soul binding ritual became outlawed.
Quaraun was an out cast Elf. His people had cut the psychic connection, leaving the poor frighted Elf empty and alone. In his desperation to feel a connection to anything, the young Moon Elf had bound his soul to BoomFuzzy's. For 30 years every pain, angry, joy, happiness, sorrow, and suffering that BoomFuzzy had felt, Quaraun had felt with him. When the Moon Elves kidnapped Quaraun, locked him in a tower and then sent news that he had married, he had felt every pain, sorrow, hate, and betrayal that BoomFuzzy had felt, in the weeks following the fake wedding. Quaraun had been very young and did not know the soul binding ritual well enough to do it properly. While he felt everything BoomFuzzy felt, the connection was not fully two way and BoomFuzzy did not feel enough of what Quaraun felt, to know the wedding had been a hoax and the poor Elf was trapped and desperately wanting to get back to his lover.
BoomFuzzy sunk into dangerous fits of depression, and Quaraun had been helpless to tell his lover the truth. For weeks BoomFuzzy gathered up the things he needed to cast a spell. Quaraun suffered through every sorrow BoomFuzzy did, but for Quaraun, the true nightmare began when BoomFuzzy drank the poisonous potion of the Lich making spell he had cast. Quaraun had felt every agony as the acidic poison burned through BoomFuzzy's body melted his organs, dissolving his insides, in a slow and painful death that had lasted three days. Everything BoomFuzzy had felt while he died, Quaraun had felt, just as though it was happening to him, and the memory of BoomFuzzy's suffering lingered on in his mind every day.
His dear friend BeaLuna, lay her hand on his shoulder, a feel attempt to comfort him, but this only incited his fury.
"Don't touch me!" He screamed as he jumped up and ran from the room.
It was the first time he had moved in days.
BeaLuna went to follow him, but his uncle stopped her.
"Leave him. He needs to be alone. Let him grieve. We've done a terrible thing. He may never recover."
"I didn't do it."
"I know."
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Months turned into years.
Years turned into decades.
Quaraun drifted through the Moon Elf village now like a shadow in a dream.
He spoke to no one.
No one dared speak to him.
The Elf that had long been chided for being too happy, too emotional, too bubbling with laughter and joy, now had fewer emotions then any of them.
He drifted along as one dead.
There was nothing in his eyes.
No sadness, no sorrow.
Absolutly nothing.
They had thought him a broken Elf before, but now they knew for certain that he was and it terrified them, for they all knew the rumours of an Elf gone mad from a broken soul bond, and they all waited in horror for the day he would finally snap out of the dead shock his drifted through now.
Meanwhile the town grew more pink every day.
Quaraun's strange obsession with pink was growing.
Quaraun had made a new wand.
A strange wand.
A wand with powers no Elf had ever seen before.
Rumours of what the wand was for, galloped through the town.
As Quaraun slowly drifted through the town, he walked pass houses touching them with his wand, and instantly window boxes heavy laden with pink geraniums filled every window.
No one dared take the flowers down, they feared what the mad Elf would do if they did.
Rumours spread through the town about the few Elves who did take the flowers down.
The Elves had vanished, eaten by the undead pink flowers, so the rumours said.
Pink creeping phlox crept over the sidewalks behind Quaraun as he walked.
Their vines and tendrils lashing out at other Elves tripping them and pulling them down, the hungry pink flowers devouring them.
The fields around the village were suddenly filled with pink snap dragons, but instead of flowers actual tiny pink dragons grew from the steams.
The Elves now found themselves trapped in their village, unable to escape, eaten by hoards of tiny pink snapping dragons dare they set for out of their town.
Quaraun's wand was filling the village with beautiful pink flowers.
Beautiful pink flowers that eat any Elf that got near them.
Quaraun's pink dresses were pinker then ever.
The thing which the Elves feared most of all was the tiny beaded heart, which now hung from Quaraun's belt.
It was a small bag of pink Thullid silk, covered in pink beads.
The bag was only big enough to hold 10 coins and yet they had all seen Quaraun put all of his books in it.
They frequently saw him pull Gibedon's head out of it.
And he now carried in it, in addition to his wardrobe, everything else he owned, a pink pavilion tent, that, on the outside appeared only 6 feet around, but inside was as big as a palace.
Where BoomFuzzy's candy shop had once been, there now stood a field of tiny pink snapping dragons, a pavilion tent of pink on pink stripes, and a gold plated throne with pink velvet cushions, on which sat an Elf with knee length white hair, wearing pink silk sari and kimono over pink silk dresses.
Day after day.
Week after week.
Month after month.
Year after year.
Decade after decade.
The pink Necromancer sat in the field watching the village, through rain and snow and sun and moonlight.
What he did in his tent, no one knew, for no one dared set foot in the field of pink snap dragons.
Quaraun had gone insane, of this they were certain.
The rest of this novel can be read here.
Three Hundred years before Quaraun meet Unicorn in The Night of The Screaming Unicorn, he meet another Phooka, the same Phooka in another form, when an Elf eating candy-maker arrives in the Moon Elf Village and puts every one under a spell so that no one notices as villagers are one by one disappearing.
Young wizard Quaraun sees through the illusion, but instead of stopping it, helps the monster pick who to kill, and builds 13 phylacteries for the most infamous Lich making spell any wizard ever cast: the one that created the Thirteen Lich Lords, in the process falling in love with the leader of the Lich Lords, The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley himself.
Life is going good for the young wizard, until his best friend BeaLuna the Gnome alerts his father that there's more going on in the gingerbread house the making candy, and a mob of Moon Elves sets out to kill Quaraun in a public execution.
Enranged by the near murder of his lover, the illusions melt away revealing the Lich Lord and his innocent looking gingerbread house for the monsters they really are.
With the Twighlight Manor now threatening to eat every Elf in the village, the Moon Elves plot to destroy the suicidal Elf Eater and his sentient house, not realizing that worse things walked among then then Phooka's and Liches: a Thullid has taken up residence in the Pink Necromancer's head, remaining peacefully dormant until BoomFuzzy's death unleash's it's fury on them all.
TRIGGER WARNING:
Another of the stories banned by fanfiction.net in 2012, this one contains three controversial scenes:
The torture scene when Quaraun receives his sex altering injury.
The graphically detailed suicide of BoomFuzzy
The bloody murder of Quaraun's four children.
By far the bloodiest story of the series, this novel contains disturbing details of death, abuse, torture, suicide, and murder and is considered to be Gorn.
As you follow the series along, you find that Unicorn's obsession with Quaraun reaches a point where Quaraun gives up and simply allows himself to be sexually abused, daily, for years on end, by the Unicorn, because he's realized he can't get away from the extremely obsessive creature that follows him every where he goes.
One of the most disturbing scenes of the entire series is in volume 3, BoomFuzzy, when it is revealed, just how long the Unicorn's obsession has been going on. While most of the series takes place when Quaraun is an adult and is actually quite old, the novel, BoomFuzzy, is a flashback, that takes place when Quaraun was a child.
As a young boy, about 9 years old, Quaraun finds an injured pony, badly abused, shackled in chains, and locked in a cage. Not realizing the little innocent looking Shetland Pony, is actually a Phooka (a type of evil Faerie Horse), he sets it free. Phookas a viscous black unicorns, fire breathing monsters who skewer people on their horns, and take delight in crushing people to death under their hooves. There is no such thing as a good Phooka, and they are killed on sight whenever they are found. That the boy let him go free, puzzled the demonic beast.
The boy went back to his life. The Phooka followed him. From that point on, Quaraun could not escape the black Unicorn that followed his every move.
When Quaraun was age of 15, the Black Unicorn took on a humanoid form, that of a candy maker named BoomFuzzy, and set up shop in Quaraun's village. Luring children to his gingerbread house, the beast set out to killing and eating every one who got near his candy shop... except for Quaraun.
Quaraun was small, sick, and liked wearing dresses, resulting in his being bullied by the other boys in the village. When one day the bullying got out of hand and Quaraun was nearly killed, the Unicorn swept in and slaughtered the bullies, saving Quaraun's life, then taking the injurged boy back to the gingerbread house.
From there the BoomFuzzy story took a darker turn, as the young boy now finds himself, both well care for by a loving protector, and sexually abused by an obsessed stalker. The duel nature of BoomFuzzy the Unicorn, both comforts and terrifies Quaraun, as he finds himself safe and protected, while simultaneously abused and kept under strict control.
The rest of the BoomFuzzy novel becomes a self battle, with Quaraun, both loving and hating the Unicorn that both protects and hurts him.
At it's core, BoomFuzzy is a novel that takes a dark look into the effects of child abuse, sex slavery, and the confusion caused by being a child who is both loved and victimized by a psychopathic adult.
Quaraun remains with BoomFuzzy for 30 years, with their relationship rocky, as Quaraun finds himself wanting freedom to choose to love someone of his own choosing, and at the same time his not wanting to hurt the beast that truly does love him, but is incapable of showing that love in none abusive ways.
After 30 years, Quaraun leaves. He finally escapes the monster that held him captive and sexually abused him for 30 years. A few weeks later Quaraun marries his first wife. And the next day, BoomFuzzy kills himself.
Quaraun finds the body of the dead Unicorn 3 days later and is devastated, realizing that had he not married, BoomFuzzy would not have commit suicide.
The theme of Stockholm Syndrome pushes front and center into the series from that point on, with Quaraun torn between the guilt of having caused BoomFuzzy's death, and the wife he can not look at because without her, BoomFuzzy would still be alive.
The wife, seeing that her husband cares more for his childhood captive than he had let on, takes to bullying Quaraun, belittling BoomFuzzy's memory at every turn. Quaraun grows to hate his wife. The more his wife, puts down BoomFuzzy's memory, the more defensive Quaraun becomes in protecting BoomFuzzy's honor and denying that BoomFuzzy had spent years sexually abusing him.
As the years go on, Quaraun starts to forget he was BoomFuzzy's victim, he forgets that BoomFuzzy was a child rapist, he forgets that he had spent those years wanting freedom from his captive. His memories become warped and he starts to think of BoomFuzzy as a past lover. On the anniversary of BoomFuzzy's death, Quaraun's wife writes a nursery-rhyme song, belittling BoomFuzzy, and teaches it too their 4 children. Unable to take the constant belittling from his wife anymore, in a fit of rage, Quaraun lashes out at her and murders both his wife and their 4 children.
Horrified by what he's done, Quaraun flees into the mountains, not to be seen again for decades. When he does return to civilization, he's completly lost touch with reality, thus people begin to call him "Quaraun the Insane". When questioned as to why he killed his family, the only answer he gives anyone is: "I loved my children, but I loved BoomFuzzy more."
When the law tries to arrest him, he tries to escape and accidentally kills them too. Terrified, he flees again, now wanted for for multiple murders. Scared of his own temper, now afraid to be near anyone for fear he'll kill them, Quaraun becomes a wandering hermit, living on the run, never staying in any one place more then a day or two.
Several times his timing is bad and he arrives in towns, just as someone has been killed. Knowing he killed his family and the men who tried to arrest him, villagers are quick to blame him for any and every death, and soon reports calling him a serial killer are being spread across the entire country.
Chapter 1: King Gwallmaiic & The Sacred Pink JellyFish
The Gingerbread House From Hell (Part of Chapter 2)
Santa Claus: Lich Of The North Pole
The Hanging Tree
The Dying Elf, Gibedon's Head, and King Gwallmaiic's Elf Eating Mansion
BoomFuzzy's Death
An Elf Gone Mad: The Rise of The Pink Necromancer
"I loved my children, but I loved BoomFuzzy more..."
If you are unfamiliar with "The Hanging Tree" it is the original short story from which the entire BoomFuzzy novel was based upon.
It is also one of the single most graphic, grizzly, bloody, gory scenes of the entire Quaraun series.
And it is the scene that got the series banned off FanFiction.net.
In the short story called "The Hanging Tree" what happens is this:
Quaraun comes from a culture that outlaws same sex couples and is hiding that fact that he has a male lover. When he is accused of bedding with other males, he does not deny it and openly admits to having sex with other men, not realizing that this will incit his accusers into an angry mob, that next strips him naked, drags him to the center of town and publically tortures him, with most of the village coming forward to join in. They next hang him upside down in a tree in the town square, and continue to torture him.
The infamous highly detail, incredibly grizzly scene that got the series banned off FanFiction.net followed, as one Elf, pulled out a knife and forces it up into Quaraun's penis, then rippe the knife in a backward motion, slicing Quaraun's penis completely in half, leaving behind a scar known as "a sub penal incision". Following this Elf's example, other villagers slash Quaraun's belly, thighs, and groin with knives, leaving him horribly scarred for life. When they finished torturing him, Quaraun is left for dead, his bloody remains used as bait to capture The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.
Unknown to the Elves however is the fact that it was the Elf Eater himself who is Quaraun's lover, and upon discovering what the Elves did to Quaraun, the Elf Eater slaughtered the Moon Elves, then takes Quaraun and spends the next several months nursing the dying Elf back to health. Quaraun eventually recovered, but he is left with a crippled leg, severe PTSD, rampant phobias that cripple his ability to function in society, and the horrific scars that he often bemoans.
This entire story is just under 3,000 words long. And it shows a horrify look at bigotry, bullying, and herd mentality of a mob joining a bully and nearly killing a gay man.
This is one of the very early stories in the series, which happens when Quaraun is very young, still a teenager. This story is the foundation base point that the other stories reference back to and you see flashbacks of it, glimpse to it, and the horrific night terrors caused by it, in nearly every volume of the Quaraun series.
In dozens of stories written after this, readers see Quaraun's life as it goes into a downward spiral of depression and mental illness, as he turns first to drugs, then to drinking, then to cutting, and eventually to multiple suicide attempts.
Today, here is what one person had to say about this scene, and what follows is my response... Enjoy!
Personally, as a bisexual person, I'm tired of seeing queer people only portrayed as villains, the token friend or victims of hate crimes.
~January 30, 2018
please come to Maine and tell the 140+ LGBTQA+ citizens of Old Orchard Beach this. I'm sure they would love to hear that you think "the queers" are NOT victims of hate crimes.
Since 2001:
40+ of them (myself included) have had their houses blown up by bombs
80+ of them have had their houses run over by backhoes (I've had to build 5 houses on my land in the past 12 years)
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
500+ pets, cats, dogs, and horses have been beheaded, their nailed to the doors of their LGBTQA+ owners (this has happened to me personally 13 times)
my cousin, he'd love to hear your sentiments... unfortunately, he was one of the 4 gay men whom were beheaded by the Ku Klux Klan in 2013
I used to be able to walk, but, you know as I was putting groceries in my car in WalMart parking lot when 2 gay haters decided to beat me up with a shopping cart (July 2016) I was paralyzed, they ruptured 3 discs in my spine; I'm crippled the rest of my life
you could come visit me and I can introduce you to the 8 foot tall KKK cross in my yard
2010 Portland Shaws (supermarket): an 80 year old black gay man was beaten to death while putting groceries in his car, while more the 40 shoppers cheered the attacker... his head was hit so many times by the shopping cart that by the time the police arrived, there was nothing left of his head, skull, or brain but a pool of jellied goo on the ground
April 2015, someone decided to fill my motorhome, you know the one that says "Transgender Awareness Tour Bus" on the side of it... they filled it with several thousand gallons of raw sewage/feces
August 2015 - public beheading of a transgender woman took place in the ice cream department of a local grocery store: Saco Shaws
Rotary Park, Biddeford, right next door, until 2 summers ago had the Guiness World Record for a very tall flag pole; they took the flag pole down because, they got tired of every weekend cutting down the gay men who were stripped naked and hanging by their balls from the top of the flag pole
THIS by the way, is the very real life event that inspired The Hanging Tree scene.
The first time this event happened... the gay man, was a 15 year old boy who was only SUSPECTED of being gay, because he wore a pink suit to a dance at school. Old Orchard Beach High School. The boy was striped naked, his ankels tied to the back bumper of a Old Orchard Beach Police Car, and then dragged the entire 14 mile drive, to the flagpole at Rotary Park in Biddeford, Maine. Because it happened at night, at a dance, no one noticed him missing at first... Because it was February, the month of the year, when our temperature plummet to -40F. He nearly froze to death. And with the park closed for winter, there was no one around to find him. He hung there, upside down, tied to a flag pole, hanging from the rope by his balls, for FIVE days.
That's the type of "jokes" the Old Orchard Beach police - grown men in the 40s and 50s, play on 5 year old CHILDREN, if the suspect the child might possibly be gay.
At night the Ku Klux Klan stands in the driveway of LGBTQA+ residents and shoots rifles fire at them.
January 4, 2016: 140+ LGBTQA+ families were marched out of their homes AT GUN POINT by police, when The Old Orchard Beach Town Hall issued a court order declaring it illegal to own property/houses if you were LGBTQA+
January 4, 2016: 140+ LGBTQA+ families were marched out of their homes AT GUNPOINT by police, when The Old Orchard Beach Town Hall issued a court order declaring it illegal to own property/houses if you were LGBTQA+
It took us 9 months and taking the case to Superior Court, but on October 21, 2016 Superior Court overruled the town's original court order as grounds of being "a gross violation of civil rights being committed by the United States Government".... for 9 months 140+ LGBTQA+ families were homeless and living in their cars while the Too Gay For Old Orchard Beach court battle went on
November 9, 2017, 3 months ago - while eating at Biddeford, McDonald's, a the manager and 5 employees, spiked my gay brother's food with so much LSD. Molly, and Meth that he went into a coma seconds after taking a bite of his meal, he remained in a coma for 5 days and nearly died; the FBI agent in charge of the attempted murder of my brother knows who did it because the whole thing was recorded on one of the restaurant's security cameras
Personally, as a bisexual person, I'm tired of seeing queer people only portrayed as villains, the token friend or victims of hate crimes.
Glad to see you are comfortable using the hate slur queer on yourself; I suppose you must use it the same way black men use niggar on themselves right? Trying to reclaim that vile, hate filled word? Are you REALLY bi or are you just saying that to sound cool? You clearly have no issues tossing the word queer around which makes me question the validity of your claim to be a part of the LGBTQA+ community.
A REAL gay person knows queer is to gay what niggar is to black; wannabes let their TRUE colours fly when they use hate terms like queer to describe themselves. Nothing brands a straight person trying to fit in faster then how they use the word queer.
You are clueless to what REAL LGBTQA+ people live with everyday of our lives if you think the hate crimes against us are a trope and using the word queer is anything close to acceptable.
I dare you to come to Maine and tell any one you are bisexual... the Ku Klux Klan will be on you in less than 24 hours
Welcome to Maine
Most of the hate crimes against the gay characters of the Quaraun series are based off the real world hate crimes against gay men happening here in Old Orchard Beach on a DAILY basis.
If you are so fed up with LGBTQA+ people being victims of hate crimes, then why don't you prove it by getting off you ass, coming up here to Maine and doing something to stop the hate crimes going on right now?
This novel was originally written on: 2007 & 2009 & 2012
This page last updated on: July 02, 2017
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
|
Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂ And if it’s your birthday today: ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐꧁ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ☆ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ꧂🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭 |
![]() |
|
|
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.
|
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.
Important:
Fraudulent sites are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
Fraudulent social media accounts, particularly on Reddit and FaceBook are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
Find Me on Social Media:
Any websites and accounts you find online that are NOT on this list are NOT Wendy Christine Allen
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.