Happy 2026!
It is our 30th anniversary here at Space Dock 13!
On the web since 1996!
You have encountered an extremely old website that continues to exist in old web ways, the same way it has done for now three decades.
In spite of being now 30 years old this year, started in 1996, it is still heavily active and old pages updated daily, new pages added daily, still now in 2026. All hand written, all hand coded (no AI), all by me, same as it ever was.
We Still Exist: The Old Web Did Not Go Away, You Just Forgot How To Find Us
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This site was NOT designed for mobile devices (as they had not been invented yet when I created it) thus this site looks best on a computer, at 1280x768 or above. |
This is a very old website created in 1996, so, yes, javascript is needed for the site to work as it should. If things don't function, you may need to update javascript drivers on your device |
This site tries to be mobile friendly but it's been online since 1996, so old pages may not load right on mobile devices, and as this site has had pages added near daily for 30 years there are now over 20k pages here. |
Having started out in life as a GeoCities site, this site contains glitter, bright colours, blinkies, moving gifs, and other things the old web was known for. |
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If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters:
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My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.
As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.
There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.
The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.
There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.
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Update Sept 3, 2026:
I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.
I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy.
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update sept 7, 2026
"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?
I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.
So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.
see video below for more information:
@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
update Sept 15, 2026:
I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed
you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?
all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,
well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.
waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.
update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine
Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.

Quaraun found himself to be laying on his back in very cold, dry sand. He blinked, staring up at the blinding white sun overhead and tried to remember how it was he came to be laying on the ground. A dark shadow blocked out the sun. At first he couldn't make it out, but after his eyes adjusted to the light he realized it was Unicorn looking down at him.
"Where are we?" Quaraun asked.
"I knows not."
"Help me up."
Unicorn did as he was told and the pale Elf looked around trying to determine where they were. Miles of white sand was all he could see in every direction.
"We're in a desert," Quaraun said at last.
"A cold one," Unicorn agreed. "Good t'ing me have me furs."
"It looks like snow."
"No snow here. Far too cold. Will no snow in places of too much cold. Here." Unicorn handed Quaraun a large black bear skin.
"What do I want with that?"
"To not freeze to death."
"It's black."

BoomFuzzy CosPlay
"So?"
"I only wear pink."
"Ya gonna freeze ya balls off for sake of fashion?"
"Yes."
"I does nah t'ink ya meant that."
"You know what I meant."
"Does ya ever listen to yarself when ya talk?"
"Do you ever listen to yourself when you destroy the Elven language?"
"Yis got difficult language to speak. If ya was no such a pompous jerk yi would speak a common tongue sos I would no has to try to speak to ya in yar dead language that only yis ever speaks."
"How the hell did we get in the desert?" Quaraun muttered to himself, completely ignoring everything Unicorn had just said.
"Perhaps Hell be the answer?"
"What?"
"Clearly a portal got us."
"Yes. But which portal? To where? And how do we get back?"
Quaraun began pacing around in small frantic circles.
"Was we near Ghouly?" Unicorn asked.
"I don't know. I can't remember where we were."
"Damn, GhoulSpawn un hims Hell dimensions. That what ya get for being friends with a Chaos Demon."
"DAMN IT!"
"What?"
"There's sand in my shoes."
Quaraun sat down on the ground to pull off his shoes and dump out the sand.
"Ya un ya impractical shoes. Why ya no get boots?"
Quaraun was about to scream something at Unicorn, when an intricatly carved sandstone freize caught his eye.
"Look!"
"Now what? Ya got the attention span of a guppy. Can ya no stay on one topic for a full two minutes?"
The Moon Elf put his shoes back on, pulled himself up with his cane and went to get a closer look at the frieze half buried in the sand.
"It's a road!" Quaraun said as he brushed the sand away. "A very fancy road. That means there's civilization around here somewhere. Civilization that appreciates art."
"Civilization that may be dead. That road nay look very used."
"Which way does it go?"
"Ya want to follow a dead path?"
"I'm a Necromancer. Apparently I like dead things. I like you don't I?"
Quaraun looked back and forth trying to determine the correct direction to follow.
"Yis suggesting we go on this road?"
"Yes."
"Why would we do that?"
"We're in a desert, Unicorn. Deserts are dangerous. And a desert this cold at high noon, is going to be sub zero by night fall. We need to find shelter before it gets dark."
Quaraun and Unicorn followed the carved sandstone frieze road for many miles and many hours, before coming to small oasis of sandstone cliff, surrounding a small city of buildings carved from even more sandstone. There wasn't much in the way of vegetation and there was no water source that either Quaraun or Unicorn could see. The city did not appear to have much, save one large church building at it's center. Like every other building in the city, the church was made of sandstone, with friezes carved all around.
"They sure do like colour," Unicorn said.
Each building was nearly invisible, blending into it's surroundings, and looking from a distance like a pile of sandstone rocks. With the lone exception of the brightly painted doors and window shutters. All colours of the rainbow. Some in brilliant red, some in bursting orange, some in blinding yellow. Each building with one colour, save the church which had all 8 colours painted on it's front doors. Too each side of the church was eight tall stained glass windows. Each on a different colour.
"They gots themselves a rainbow church."
"I'm gonna guess this is a theocracy," Quaraun said.
"What makes ya says that?"
"A city made of tiny hovels. No sign of businesses or shops. Nothing that says political buildings or royalty. Just a giant church smack dab in the center of the city. That screams theocracy. Reminds me of the DiJinn. Their city was like this. Looked a lot like this in fact. Middle of a desert and everything."
Quaraun and Unicorn made their way into the city.
"Look at the people," Unicorn said.
"I am. This is strange."

Quaraun CosPlay
Every person in the city was dressed in a single solid colour. Eight colours. But no more then one colour per person. And people of each colour were wandering the streets in small groups, while avoiding all other colours. Men, women, and children, dressed in red, stayed with others who were also dressed in red and avoided all those dressed in blue and green. Every one dressed in blue, spoke only to others dressed in blue and snubbed their noses at every one dressed in yellow and purple.
"It appears," Quaraun said. "That the people dressed in orange, live in the houses with the orange doors and are shunning every one not orange. As is each other person of each other colour. Racism based on fashion colours."
"Well, I see people wearing pink and gots pink houses. Looks like this be city for ya then, eh? You with ya ooooh, ca'na wear black wid me pink, oh no, rather freeze me balls off."
"You don't have to deal with over sized balls getting in your way."
"Yeah, that'd be because I wear pants."
Quaraun looked down at Unicorn's hakama.
"Those are hardly pants. My skirts aren't half as wide as each of your pant legs."
"Quaraun. Me point was yar were refusing to wear a black coat over ya pink dress, because it were no pink and ya refuses to wear anything that is no pink. And wid balls the size of yars ya should want to keep them warm other wise they will freeze and fall off."
As usual Quaraun was lost in his own thoughts and not listening to a word Unicorn was saying.
"This is fascinating. Would be nice if I didn't hurt so much. I could enjoy it more."
"Yis hurting again?"
"Yes."
"What hurt now?"
"Stomach cramps. Headache. Bloating. Sensative breasts. Sensative testicles. And a penis that wants to drip blood because I don't have a damed vagina, which apparently I was supposed to have, instead of these things hanging between my legs."
"Yis regretting being born with male genatilia?"
"No. I'm regretting being born with female hormones that are disrupting my male genitalia. I would like to have normal male genitalia. I would like to not have a small penis. I would like to not have big balls. I would like to not have breasts. I would like to not have ovaries trying to kick their way out of my stomach right now!"
"Ah! Yis hallucinating again. Gotcha."
"I am not hallucinating."
"Ya does no ovaries Quaraun. I do no know wheres ya got that idea from."
"I have a jellyfish eating me brain."
"Well, I will agree wid that one. There does be a jellyfish in ya head, sucking all de logic out of ye brain."
As was typical for Quaraun he was feeling muscle cramps on the exertion of having walked so briskly for so long a period. Now that he'd stopped walking a tremor in his hands and cramps in his side reminded him that he'd not stopped to rest for many hours. For some reason, in recent weeks, Quaraun had come to the conclusion that these reoccurring cramps was caused by his having ovaries, something that could neither be proved or disproved and since no one could disprove it he had run with the idea and was now currently convinced he also had PMS, which also could not be proven.
Unicorn was used to Quaraun's wild drug induced imagination running away with him, but he was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around this current obsession of Quaraun's. The muscle cramps were real, the pain was real, and Quaraun was at his wits end to find a cause for his discomfort, that Unicorn could not deny. He just couldn't agree with Quaraun's current belief that he had ovaries causing the trouble.
The tremor made it quite difficult for Quaraun to grip his cane, which he quickly dropped. The poor Elf stood staring down at his cane, wondering if he dared risk bending down to pick it up or not. He was feeling light headed and dizzy and was contemplating if bending down would result in his passing out.
A woman, dressed all in pink, walking by, saw this and stopped.
"You're disabled," the pink clothed woman said very matter of factly.
"Yes," Quaraun answered. "I am. I try not to be. It's not always easy to hide."
The woman bent down and picked up the cane.
"You okay?" she asked as she handed the Elf his cane back.
"I fear I over exhurted myself. I did too much too fast. I need a place to rest. I'll be fine once I've rested."
"You're a man!"
"I... yes."
"Why you dressed like a woman?"
Quaraun looked down at his bright pink, beaded ball gown.
"I look good in this dress."
"Yes. You do... but, you're a man!"
"Yes."
"You don't look like one."
"I know."
"Why are you trying to look like a woman?"
"I'm not."
"Are you one of of those men, trying to become a woman."
"No. That'd be easier explain."
"What are you?"
"I'm an Elf."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know. Hermaphrodite, I believe, would be the easiest thing for you to understand, though it's not quite accurate. I'm not really either male or female. Intersexual, I suppose is a better way to describe it."
"You mean you got both male and female genitilia?"
"Something like that. I'm aparently a chimera. Twins that fused together in the womb and became one person, neither male nor female."
"Oh. So you're a freak."
Quaraun sighed. He hated having to try to explain his lack of clearly defind gender to people. He identified as male because he had a penis and testicles and a deep voice, but his bone structure was small and feminine, his facial features were feminie, and he possessed small pubesiant looking breasts, requiring his wearing of support brassier. It was often easier to just say he was a transvestite and leave it at that, but that was not entirly true. He didn't know what he was or where he fit in, he'd never encountered anyone else with his deformities, but the fact that he had fathered children in the past and doubted he had the ability to get pregnant, given he lacked a vagina, had him identifying as male in spite of his looking female.
"Yes. I'm a freak," Quaraun said to the woman. "I have a dick that's always in my way and right now I've got ovaries, trying to kick their way out of my stomach. I get PMS worse then women do, because you have a vagina to expel it from and I don't. I'm not supposed to have a bleeding penis, but I do, which probably wouldn't be half as bad if I had a normal sized penis, which I don't."
"Ya penis is not bleeding Quaraun..." Unicorn tried to say, but Quaraun wasn't listening.
Unicorn wished very much that the woman had not commented on Quaraun's ambiguous gender. He knew the Elf could rant about his gender confusion for hours on end. This recent addition of Quaraun's now believing he had ovaries and was suffering from PMS had only made his ranting worse.
"I have a small micro penis which doesn't want to function properly. Though I have a normal sized foreskin. It's like putting a dagger inside a sword sheath! Try to find my small penis inside of my foreskin! You can't!"
"I can," Unicorn said.
"All of which is compounded," Quaraun continued, ignoring Unicorn. "By the fact that my testicles are twice the size they should be. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to walk with these things hanging down between my legs, knocking together and getting in my way while I'm trying to walk. They are too heavy. It hurts the have then hang down loose..."
"Yis need ya chastity cage put back on then, eh?"
"Yes! I do. It holds them up against my body and keeps them from swinging around all the time," Quaraun answered Unicorn then went back to adressing the woman. "And on top of that right now I feel like I've kicked in the stomach. I hurt like hell. And I'm not supposed to have breasts, but hey, once a month I do, and that would be right now."
The villager was staring at Quaraun as if he was bomb about to explode.
"Ya done having hissy fit?" Unicorn asked.
"There's a garden over there." The woman pointed to the church. "Slush Master Bazooloo of the 8 Arms always welcomes the sick and weiry. You'll be welcomed there. His bubblegum slushies will do wonders for you."
"Bubblegum slushies?"
"Yes. Good for what alies you."
"What's a bubblegum slushie?"
"You don't know!" The woman gasped, horrified.
"I'm a stranger here. We've come from, quite afar. I think. I'm not sure. Apparently GhoulSpawn did something to us... again. He's most bumbling wizard I've ever met..."
"Ah, that because ya never met yaself," Unicorn said. "I must introduce ya to yarself sometime. Especially when yis on LSD."
The woman looked wide eyed out into the desert.
"You mean you came from out there?"
"Yes. I'm afraid we're lost."
"You were not eaten by the sand sharks?"
"The what?"
""And the Slush Maids did not get you?"
"What's a Slush Maid?"
"You don't know?"
"No. I don't. I told you we are strangers here."
"Then you must go to Bazooloo at once."
"Bazooloo?"
"Yes. He'll know what to do. The Slush Master knows all."
"What is slush master?" Unicorn asked.
The woman faced Unicorn for the first time then fell back and gasped.
"You are not wearing one of the 8 colours!"
"Eight colours?" Unicorn looked down at his black hakama and black silk kimono, over which he was wearing a black fur cloak. "I wear black."
"The colour of sin," the woman gasped. Her fear could not be masked.
"What wrong wid wearing black?"
The woman turned and walked quickly away without answering.
"That was strange," Quaraun said. "I suppose we should go see Bazooloo."
"Baaaa-zzooooo-loo?" Unicorn said, mulling over the name. "That does no sound of Human name."
"You know you could have helped me," Quaraun said.
"Helped ya wid what?"
"I dropped my cane."
"Aye. So?"
Quaraun shook his head.
"Forget it. Let's go visit Bazooloo."
"What for we do that?"
"So I can sit down before I fall down."
"Is ya not well?"
"Portal travel, does things to me. Especially when it's unplanned and unexpected. Gravity and my balls don't like each other."
"What me to cage 'em up?"
"Yes. Please."
"Any ideas where we is yet?"
"No. And Bazooloo is a Thullid name."
Quaraun walked off, leaving Unicorn by himself. Seeing that he'd been left alone, Unicorn quickly turned into a Unicorn and trotted after the Pink Necromancer.
"I wish ya would no leave me behind like that," Unicorn said as he caught back up to Quaraun.
"My leg hurts. I can't stand still for long. Too much pressure on my hip. I expect you to follow me. You usually do. Why didn't you this time?"
"I was thinking."
"About what?"
"About Bazooloo."
"What of him?"
"This is Human village."
"It looks to be, yes."
"What for they have Thullid priest?"
"Good question. Let's find out."
Quaraun stopped walking and looked up at the church. It was made of the same sandstone as everything else in this town was. The friezes on this building were carved with jellyfish, octopus, and squid. Tentacles and ocean waves melded and merged in the design.
"Definitely a Thullid," Quaraun said.
"Look," Unicorn pointed towards the garden beside the church. "Place for me Elf to sit."
"Indeed. Let's sit."
"There are flowers here," Quaraun said. "That's odd."
"How so?"
"We just came through many miles of ice cold desert. Not a plant in sight. And none anywhere else in this village. I believe the air is warmer here as well."
"Probably, underground hot springs."
Quaraun looked up at the tall church beside them.
"Probably why they built the church here. Life giving water in the desert. That can't be good."
"Life giving water in desert is no good?"
"No. The fact that there is a church sitting on top of the only source of water. That can't be good. A religion controlling the water source? Religions can't be trusted. Especially not Thullid religions."
"Says a Thullid priest."
"I haven't been a priest in years. Decades. Centuries."
"Yis renounced ya religion, then, eh?"
"I'm not exactly living my religion any more, Unicorn."
"Aye. Ya likes being fucked too much."
"Put the chastity cage back on me."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"We is in public."
"You can do it without fully exposing me to the world, can't you?"
"Aye."
"Then do it. I'm sick of trying to walk with my balls swinging around."
Unicorn did as he was asked.
"You know if I never meet you I'd still be a virgin."
"Yi had wife."
"That was an arranged marriage, that my father only arranged because I was with you."
"Ya was with BoomFuzzy."
"You are BoomFuzzy."
"Am I?"
"Unicorn don't start this again."
"Hello strangers."
Quaraun and Unicorn's argument was interupted by a Squid headed priest with eight long purple tentecles. The Thullid was wearing rainbow striped robed which matched the pattern on the front door of the church.
"May I help you?" He asked.
"Bazooloo?" Quaraun asked.
"Yes. May I help you?"
"We are lost. And tired. In need of rest. And thirsty. A woman from your village told us to come here and ask for Bazooloo."
"Well, you have found him. Am I correct in assume I am adressing a DiJinn?"
"I am a wizard of the DiJinn order, yes."
"What's a DiJinn doing way out here?"
"What's a Thullid priest doing in a Human village?"
"What's an Elf and a Faerie doing in a Human village?"
"I already told you. We are lost. This was the first hint of civilization we could find."
"As it was with me. Be warned strangers... people who find themselves lost here... never leave."
"You are trapped here?"
"Yes."
"And where is here exactly?"
"This, my friends, is the City of the Slushies."

Quaraun and Unicorn wake up in a frozen desert, with no knowledge of where they are and memory of how they got there.
Assuming that they have once again been sucked out of their own time and space by yet another of GhoulSpawn's unstable portals, the two wizards set off to find a way back home, and come across a strange isolated Human city, where a squid-headed priest controls all the water sources, forcing people to worship his god or die of thirst.
Slush Master Bazooloo of the 8 Arms has brainwashed the citizens to depend upon the magical properties of the life giving slushies. Generations have passed since the last Human saw a natural water source, and with Bazooloo handing out Slushies only to those he deems worthy of living, the citizens have divided off into sects, each controlled by their devotion to one flavour of slushie.
When Unicorn shows the people how to make their own slushies and introducing new never before seen flavors, disrupting the belief in the mythical 9th flavour, he is seen by some as the Slush God whose coming was foretold and by others as a heretic sent by the evil Slush Maid to destroy Bazooloo's reign.
We interrupt this novel to bring you: Twerking Dragons! (Twerking Dragons, coming soon to a City of Slush near you.)
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
The premise of this story was created in a brainstorm session workshop at PortCon Maine 2017, in a panel called "Foundations of Worldbuilding" by Brett Pierce.
A group of about 60 people collaborated to create the basic structure on which this story was built.
Thank you to everyone who was part of this workshop and helped to create this portal world for Quaraun and Unicorn to visit!
I was in a 1-hour writing workshop last month and we were given the challenge to write a story based of a set of ideas that the group made together. The idea was to come up with a theocracy that was not evil and did not involve the worship of a deity.
In the end, we agreed to write this:
I don't know if anyone else in the group has actually gone on to write a story based off this idea or not, but me, I'm 7 chapters into writing a novel based off this idea. It's fun to write because it goes against a lot of the norms you see in a fantasy theocracy.
The world I'm dropping the story into is one I've already got several volumes published for.
The government system of the region is basically a group of wealthy, pompous bigot magic users (think, Ku Klux Klan, if they were Elf Wizards) who've declared every one who practices any form of magic (and you'd be surprised what they consider "magic" to be - like 1500s witch hunters they can "see" "magic" in everything, so long as it serves their purpose) without their permission, to be a traitor and must be executed. They started out as a wizarding guild, but then they killed off all the other guilds are are the only guild left (thus people refer to them simply as "The Guild"), they went on to over throw the government (a quasi-clanish-tribal-monarchy system) and declare themselves the law of the land.
I'm not sure what type of government you would call it - it's kind of like gangsters of the 1920s, where big bullies who can out bully the other bullies end up in power. Basically they are a gang style terrorist group that is slowly taking over all the governments.
They rule things similar to the Vogan in Hitchhiker's Guide, where they have documents and papers for everything and won't allow anyone to make a move without long lists of paperwork approvals and people who don't get the proper permits for something are executed. They are kind of terrorist/gangster/bureaucrats who are Elf wizards and basically want all none Elves dead ad all wizards who are not them dead because they don't want the competition.
So, tossing a wacky slushie worshiping theocracy into the mix... I don't know how the Guild is gonna react to that. They are used to overthrowing small "tribal" monarchies (not medieval style monarchies of kings in castles; rather I based them off the small clan kings of ancient pre-Celtic Scotland, which were very tribal). This'll be my first time writing them vs a theocracy and it ain't a traditional theocracy.
I have no plot, plan, or outline so no clue how this story is gonna end up going.
okay.... so according to this: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/305611524690656094/ (see image embedded below)
what I just described is a type of government known as a "Junta"
Junta: A group that takes control of the state after overthrowing the government by force.
Cool. Now I have a name for what type of government The Guild is.
These pages are currently being built. The links will go live as each page goes online.
PortCon 2017 Panel ReviewsThe Foundations of Worldbuilding - Best Panel Ever! The Poetry Workshop - A Review of my 2nd fave panel Yaoi Madlibs Tatas GTFO The REAL Hentai Your First RolePlaying Game Back To Riverdale Mark Out, StoryTelling In Wrestling Geek Jeopardy Show Don't Tell From Your Brain To Amazon Undertale: The Panel I Walked Out Of Character Creation Gender @ Con Lolita Fashion 101 J-Fashion 101 Costume Makeup on a Budget Comic Universes & You MACE'S "So I have a CosPlay, now what?" LGBT in Anime - a Ranting Review on Why This Panel Pissed Me Off (the only bad review you'll find here) PortCon 2017 VlogsPre-Con Prep Vlogs Day 1 Vlogs Day 2 Vlogs Day 3 Vlogs Day 4 Vlogs Thoughts After The Con Vlogs |
General Issues & Experiences
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.
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Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....
... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.
While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.
My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since. |
The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.
Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.
Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.
Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.
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The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.
Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.
Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.
Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.
In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.
Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.
But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.
I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.
Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.
Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.
I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.
My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.
Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
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There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.