Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978)
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. |
Kelim and The Necromancer:
(Volume 2 of The Quaraun Series)
Doe'Uan and The Lonely Elf
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The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane
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You are seeing the pre-publication draft edition of it here, which is not yet edited and likely contain errors in spelling, grammar, and various other typos. The published ebook & paperback print editions of this novel are edited and revised and likely will be different. Some scenes in these online pages may not be included in the finished product, likewise many of the scenes in these online pages will be extended and or otherwise changed. These sample sections of the drafts are being made available free to read online at the request from several readers who stated that they wished to see the writing process of the novels while they were still works in progress. Because of the likelihood that these pages may contain spoilers, you may wish to avoid reading them until after publication of the novel. If you are wondering why the chapters of this novel are not numbered, please read the article answering that question (How many scenes and settings per chapter?) linked to here...---->>>> |
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Please Note: The Quaraun Series Is Rated M18+ and you must be 18 or older to buy it in countries that require book ratings.
These books are EXTREMELY VIOLENT and some book sellers list them as "SplatterPunk" or "Gorn" or "Torture Porn".
Reader discretion is advised.
Why is the Quaraun Series Rated M18+?
Because this site is monetized by Google AdSense, sex scenes are not included and have been removed from these online pages.
The Quaraun series has a strong theme of suicide, all 3 of the primary characters suffer from serious suicidal depression, 2 of them habitually practice cutting and self mutilation, and all 3 have attempted suicide at various times. One character is undead, killed himself and now is cursed to kill himself over and over again for eternity. These suicide attempts are graphically depicted on page.
All 3 main characters are drug addicts and heavy drug use is often ongoing in the series.
This series contains heavy references to and depictions of violence, brutality, & abuse, including spouse abuse & child abuse, both verbal and physical abuse. The physical abuse is often extreme, resulting in serious injuries, broken bones, and in some cases death. One of the main characters murdered his children and suffers frequent PTSD flashbacks and night terrors of the event. Graphic scenes of young toddlers being brutally murdered by their father and him being tormented by their dead spirits frequent nearly every novel in this series.
This series contains many highly triggering scenes of bigotry & prejudice, on brutality graphic, and gorily violent levels, of hate crimes being committed against people based of race, gender, sexuality, and skin-colour. The main characters are a bi-sexual & interracial couple/trio who are often bullied and brutalized by white supremacists and gay-haters. These atrocities are carried out in the time period of the Spanish Inquisition and include historically accurate methods that were used in real world Medieval torture.
Any pages online containing these types of scenes will have a yellow NSFW/TRIGGER WARNING label put on it, so you will know to avoid those pages should such things bother you.
If you are looking for a list of all the titles in this series, that can be found HERE.
A list of all the chapters that are currently available to read online can be found HERE.
You can Find out more about the main characters here:
f you are here looking for aliens, ufos, demons, cryptids, haunted cars, curses, Etiole, the wild man of old orchard beach, the goldeneagle car, the white monkey, or any of that other weird bullshit, you want this video:
...and after that video, you want these ones:
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 Wendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again.Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title. List of the published titles still in print: The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series What the series is about, for those new here: |
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.
Coming soon (Nov/Dec 2026)... patterns for my slow stitched embroidery:
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The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.
There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.
I shouldn't have to say this, but people keep contacting me, so apparently I do:
- No, I do not believe in aliens. Stop contacting me to ask for alien information. If you believe in aliens, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, my car is not haunted. I've debunked that rumour many times now. . Stop contacting me to ask for haunted car information. If you believe in haunted cars, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, I am not connected to Stephen King. I didn't even know who he was until you idiots started contacting me asking about him. I had to look him up on Google to find out what you were even talking about! If you have questions about Stephen King, go contact him and ask him. I'm not him. I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I've never read one of his books. I've never seen one of his movies. I can't figure out why you people are even coming to me to ask about him in the first place!
- If someone told you I believe in aliens, if someone told you my car was haunted, if someone told you I was connected to Stephen King, you NEED to contact the FBI agent in charge of my son's murder investigation and TELL HIM WHO it was who told ou, exactly WHAT it was they said, HOW they contacted you, WHERE they contacted you... because it is a KNOWN FACT that my son's murderer is the one who started all these slanderous alien, haunted car, Stephen King rumours, and the FBI is trying to catch her.
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Do you know who this woman is?
On August 8, 2013 she drove a backhoe over my house. On November 14, 2013 she arrived at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me with a golf club and murdered my son. One June 24, 2016, days after my first attempts to walk again, she attacked me with a shopping cart at Scarborough, Walmart, reinjuring the Nov 14, 2013 injury.
She crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet id-ed the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club.
Complete details of EVERYTHING she did is on this page here.
 The golf club woman who called herself Clair as she looked November 14, 2013. Her hair is a weird chin leangth pageboy (very Medival style cut) platinum blonde with wide brown/black dyed stripes in it (like a reverse of Lily Munster, but the stripes are several, almost like a zebra). I am 5'6" and she was a LOT taller then me, like closer to the height of a man; she had thin lips like a man, and large nose like a man... she COULD have been a man disguised as a woman, given the ease with which she severed my spine....she's is a LOT stronger then is typical for a woman). She was wearing a chambre blue denim "blazer jacket over shirt" and a button up mens shirt (possibly flannel) and blue jeans. The bulk of her yelling was focused on accusing me of being transgender, even while ripping my baby out of my 8 month pregnant belly and bashing his head in with a golf club. |
 The Claire woman as she looked during her shoping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart June 2016, the attack with left me paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Her hair was dyed dark red, and she drove away in a gold Volvo 240 Station Wagon of a late 1980s/early1990s model, with a "458" on the lisnce plate.... If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
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If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Good god! We just found out about yet another slanderous rumour this woman has been spreading? When does it end? How many more of these things are out there?
Video explains what else she's done ...
If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
 If you encounter anyone claiming my car is haunted, demon possessed, or somehow connected to Stephen King please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
If you encounter anyone claiming I believe in aliens or was an alien abducttee, please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.  If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
I am sick and tired of people not giving a shit that my son was murdered!
I am sick and tired of jackasses making up rumours and lies about me and my car, calling me an alien abductee and my car haunted, just to try to cover up my son's murder!
Kelim and The Necromancer
is
an Epic Length Novel of more than 200,000 words
(400+ paperback pages)
This chapter is...
Word count: 4,033
or
12 paperback pages.
NOTE: This novel is still being written and these online free sample chapters are unedited draft versions that may be very different from the final paperback books.
Kelim and The Necromancer:
Doe'Uan and The Lonely Elf
(free chapter to read online of Bizarre Dark Fantasy Yaoi Novel)
<<< Previous Chapter:
~o0o~ Chapter ? ~o0o~
Quaraun opened is eyes when he heard the sound of someone in the room with him. Silently he watched the woman as she cooked the day's meal for her family. After a while he sat up to watch her. She was busy in her work and did not notice him.
"Where am I?" Quaraun asked.
The woman let out a yelp of fright at the sound of his voice.
"Oh! It's you," she said as she looked around the room and realized Quaraun was sitting up and looking at her. "You startled me."
"I did not mean to."
"Are you alright?"
"I seem to be. More or less. Enough at least. Where am I? And who are you?"
"We found you in our barn. Uhm... you were wounded."
"Did you take care me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why? You were hurt."
"And you are a Human."
"So?"
"I am an Elf."
"What differance does that make?"
"In my experiance, Humans generally kill Elves on sight. No questions asked. We are not Human, we therefore deserve to die as greusomely as possible."
"You've not meet nice Humans."
"Aparently not."
"I'm sorry. Not all Humans are like that. Are you feeling better now?"
"I'm well enough to have woken up."
"Are you well enough to eat?"
Quaraun stared at her as though she had just hit him with a bag of bricks. He wasn't accustomed to people offering him food. He was much more used to people throwing food at him, along with sticks and rocks and whatever else they could get their hands on. So few people showed him kindness that he was suspicious of anyone who did.
Not waiting for the old Elf to answer her, the woman continued talking.
"Do you like chowder?"
"What is chowder?"
"Potatoes, cooked with milk and corn, and clams, and lobster. We grew the potatoes and corn ourselves. Milk is from our goats. And the children gather the clams and lobsters off the beach at low tide."
She scopped the white globes of gooey, runny lumps on a plate and handed it too him.
Quaraun stared at the plate. Clams and lobsters. Food of peasants. He was horrified, sickened, and disgusted by the thought of eating the gutter filth grub of peasants.
"Is something wrong," the woman asked.
"You expect me to eat this?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"Clams and lobsters."
"Yes. They are good for you."
"Civilized folk don't eat stuff like this. Lobsters are trask to feed pigs in slop. Soldiers won't even eat them. And clams are nothing but slugs."
"You're used to fine wines and fruit pastries aren't you?"
"Do you eat slugs and insects, all the time?"
"We are not wealthy."
"I'm sorry. Perhaps I can help with that." Quaraun took 10 gold coins from his beaded heart shaped bag and handed them to her. "You clearly this more than I do."
"I can't take your coin."
"You most certainly can. I have plenty more. I've a Dragon. She brings me all the gold I need."
"You.. have.. a dragon?"
"Yes."
"Like... a pet?"
"Yes. I have a pet Dragon. She lives in my pocket."
"Ooooo... kay. You're kind of crazy aren't you?"
Quaraun's expression changed. It upset him deeply when people told him he was crazy.
"Just take the gold. I don't need it. You do."
"We don't take chairty."
"Consider it payment for taking care of me then. I might have died if you hadn't."
"I've never seen a gold coin before. Takes a lot of coppers to exchange for gold. A decade of harvest wouldn't even bring in a single gold coin. So many coins. And you just give them away like they are nothing?"
"They are nothing to me. I told you I have plenty more. These will not be missed."
"You're very wealthy aren't you?"
"The highwaymen who attacked me on the road certainly thought so."
"My husband said you looked like an aristocrat, based on how you're dressed. On account of all the gold and jewels you're wearing, and all the embroidery and trim on your robes."
"I'm a priest. This is how my order dresses."
"We thought you were a woman when we found you."
"Meaning you undressed me to discover I wasn't? I don't like being undressed. No one ever sees me naked. I do not like it."
"You got a sword wound. It needed tending to. Had to undress you to get at the wound. Didn't think nothing of undressing you, seeing how I thought you was a lady. Why do you wear so much jewelry?"
"I told you. I am a priest."
"Yeah... all the priests I've ever seen, wear drab wool, grey or brown, homespun. Not pink silks and gold chains. You look more like a courtesan then a priest."
"Elven priests do not dress, like Human priests."
"I never saw an Elven religion where the priests dress like you."
"Do you even know any Elven religions?"
"Of course..."
"Perhaps I should mention I do not follow an Elven religion. I am a Di'Jinn priest."
"Di'Jinn? Are they Demons?"
"Yes. Thullids. A type of Chaos Demon. I wasn't raised by Elves. I was raised by Thullids. I am a priest of a Thullid religion."
"Suppose that explains the colours. Demons do like their colours. Lavish creatures, Demons are."
"Do you know any Demons?"
"Not many. But we see them from time to to. The ports right over there. Merchant ships from all over the world dock here. This is the main road inland to the cities. Demon peddlers and merchant go through once in a while. All their bright coloured wagons and colorful clothes and all that jewelry. Yeah. Should have guessed Demon priest what with all the colour and gold you got on."
"I'm still an Elf..."
"Doe'Uan said you looked like royalty. He thought you must be from one of the royal families from the Deep North."
"I am. I'm also a King. And I am from the Deep North."
"You're a King?"
"By birth, not by choice. But I prefer to be a priest. That I chose."
"Doe'Uan said..."
"Doe'Uan? That is an Elf name. Who is Doe'Uan?"
"My husband. He brought you in here out of the barn."
"Your husband is an Elf?"
"Yes."
"Then your children are mix blood mongrels."
"That's very rude."
"Is it? It was not intended to be rude. I merely stated a fact. You are a Human, your husband is an Elf, and therefore your children are mongrels. No reason to get defensive, I have nothing against half-Elves. Some of my best friends are half-Elves."
"You got a name?"
"Quaraun."
"Well, Quaraun, I don't like your attitude, especially not after I spent all season taking care of you. You could stand to be a little less rude and show some respect. You ought to be grateful, we didn't just toss you out in a ditch somewhere. We could have you know. The Guild is active around here, you know. We put our lives at risk taken care of you."
"The Guild? Why do you bring up the Guild?"
"You used magic to put yourself in that sleeping trance thing you did there."
"Oh. Yes. I did, didn't I? I forget things like that are considered magic."
"Isn't it?"
"Well, no. Not for us. It's just something we do to heal ourselves. One doesn't have to know magic to do it. One only has to be a High Elf."
"So you're not a Wizard?"
"... I... I didn't say that. And I'm sorry I was rude. I did not mean to be. I am grateful for what you've done. I did not mean to upset you."
"Are you going to eat that?"
"I've never seen food like this before. And I'm not in the habit of eating bugs."
"It's not bugs."
"It's lobster."
"It's good for you."
"I'm civilized..."
"Implying we're not?"
"That's not what I..."
Doe'Uan came in just then.
"He thinks we're not civilized!" The woman yelled at her husband.
"What?" Doe'Uan asked.
"That's not what I said, nor what I meant," Quaraun tried to explain.
"What's going on?" Doe'Uan asked his wife.
"He woke up and I gave him some chowder to eat, but he won't touch it, because he says civilized people like him don't eat bugs like us poor people, and he called our children mongrels because they're half-Elves."
"That's not what I said," Quaraun protested. "You're twisting my words."
"What DID you say?" Doe'Uan asked Quaraun.
"I..." Quaraun stammered. Common Elves frightened him as much as Humans did, if not more so. "I did use those words, but not in the way she's saying I did. I meant no disrespect. I'm not used to talking to common people."
"Common people? You don't see how offensive that is?"
Quaraun stared up at the couple, looking very confused.
"I'm sorry," Quaraun said, looking away from them.
"How old are you?"
"I don't know. Old."
"You're clothes are old fashioned. So is your manner of speaking. And you're dialect."
"I was born in the Human year 938."
"938? It is 1453 now. You ARE old. You're over 500 years old. Not many Elves from your era around these days. Not many Elves live that long. Even 400 ears is rare. You are ancient."
"Yes. I am aware of that. All my people are dead. I am the last of the Moon Elves. And I fear it won't be long before I am soon the last of all the High Elves. There are so few of us left. But I am older than I should be. It's the JellyFish in my brain. It keeps me alive beyond my natural years."
"You are an aristocrat aren't you? A wealthy nobleman of some sort, yes?"
"I... kind of. Used to be."
"Used to be?"
"I used to be a King."
"A king?"
"That was a long time ago. Like I said, my people are dead. I have no kingdom,no subjects. Not any more. Not in centuries. I'm a king by blood. Not a warrior king who conquered some country. I am the son of fifteen generations of Konung."
"Konung?"
"I'm an emperor. Or I was. I'm not any more. Now I'm just a wandering vagabond with no family, no people, no place to call home."
"He said he wasn't a Wizard," the woman said to her husband.
"I did not say that!" Quaraun yelled at the woman, far too defensively.
"Why does that upset you?" Doe'Uan asked. "Are you a Wizard?"
"I... yes. I am a Wizard of the DiJinn Order."
"Order? So you belong to a Guild?"
"No."
Hamsa
Eye of The Grigoi
Eye of the Watchers
Eye of God
Hand of God
Eye of Protection
Evil Eye
Gypsy Curse
"You're not a Guild member?"
"No. Certainly not!"
"Have you any idea the danger you've put my family it?"
"How have I endangered your family?"
"You sought shelter in our barn."
"I was wounded. There were highwaymen on the road. Dangerous region you live in here."
"And you sought shelter in our barn."
"I intended to be gone by morning. I lost more blood then I thought. And it was you who moved me into your house. You could have left me in the barn. Or tossed me to into the gutter, as most people would have."
"I did not know you were a Mage."
"I'm not a Mage."
"Do you not know the laws?"
"I am a stranger in this region."
Doe'Uan went to a small wooden chest on the shelf, and took out an official looking document. He returned to the fireplace and began reading the paper to Quaraun:
"By order of The Guild of Wizardry & Magic, anyone caught giving shelter to a Mage, shall be burned with him or her..."
"I am not a Mage," Quaraun stated very matter of factly.
"You just said you were a Wizard."
"Yes. And a Wizard is differant then a Mage."
"The Guild does not make a distinction."
"The Guild can burn in Hell."
"The Guild makes the law."
"Only because Finderu is an ass."
"Finderu is the Jarl."
"Yes. And an ass. And a Jarl is only a territorial chieftain. The Konung outranks him."
"The Konung is dead."
"I know. I killed him. And I will kill Finderu as well. It's on my list of things to do."
"You can not kill the Jarl."
"I can and I will. He founded the Guild. I do not approve of the Guild."
"The Konung did."
"He was my uncle. And now he is dead. My word is law. Not Finderu's."
Doe'Uan began reading the paper to Quaraun once again:
"By order of The Guild of Wizardry & Magic, anyone caught giving shelter to a Mage, shall be burned with him or her..."
"I am not a Mage!"
Quaraun stood up angrily, to speak to Doe'Uan face to face, even though he was only five feet six inches tall and was eye level to Doe'Uan's chin.
"Wizard. Mage. What's the differance? You all use magic and magic is forbidden."
"A Mage is a know-nothing apprentice. A student, still learning to carve runes. I am a Wizard of the Di'Jinn Order. That is the highest level of achievement a Wizard can achieve. I'm the world's most powerful Wizard. No one matches me in magic. I spent centuries reaching my level of skill. I have more magic in my little finger then a Mage will learn in a hundred years."
"A Mage is a Mage."
"How dare you compare me to a Mage! I am Quaraun, Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets, World's Most powerful Wizard!"
Doe'Uan gasped at the sound of Quaraun's name, and took several steps back, pulling his wife with him.
"Ohhh... and..." Quaraun continued, now no longer screaming. "I believe I stood up too quickly. Oh my! I am so very dizzy. I need to sit back down before I pass out."
Quaraun slowly slid back to the floor, and sat on his knees gasping for breath.
"Am I to understand you are Quaraun the Insane?"
"I'm not insane. And I hate people calling me that."
"You are Quaraun, The Pink Necromancer?"
"Yes. I am."
"Get out of our house."
"Doe'Uan, he's still hurt. He can't even stand up yet..."
"I don't care. He's a criminal. A monster. Murderer. He's outcast from Elf society. No one is to give him shelter. No one is to talk to him. He's an Outcast Elf. Shunned. I didn't know who he was. I never would have brought him in here had I known who he was."
"But..."
"Do not defend me," Quaraun said to the woman. "He's right. I am Outcast. I am a murderer. I murdered my wife and children. Were I a Human, I'd have been executed for my crime. But Elves have no death penalty. To take a life is wrong. Even execution is not allowed. He is right. I am cast out of society. Condemned to wander the world, with no family or home. No friends. No kindness. Forced to sleep the gutter with rats and fight wild dogs for my food. Unloved. Unwanted. Cast out. Homeless. Friendless. This is my punishment. He speaks true. No Elf is to give me shelter. No Elf is to speak to me. This is how my life has been these past four hundred years. I am welcome no where. I will leave. I am sorry I inconvenienced you at all. It was not my intention. I intended to rest a few hours and leave before morning. I did not expect I would be out for so many days or that you would find me. I was injured more badly then I thought I was."
Quaraun stood up, slowly this time, now holding on to the wall for support.
"No. Don't leave," the woman said, taking hold of Quaraun's arm and gently forcing him to sit back down once again. "You can barely stand up. Where you gonna go? You're not fully healed. You won't get far with that wound. Doe'Uan, let him stay." She turned to face her husband. "Tell him, he can stay. Please don't turn him out. Not while he's still hurt like this."
"He's a murderer."
"He said it happened four hundred years ago. Four hundred years is a long time to punish someone."
Doe'Uan nodded.
"It is."
Doe'Uan adressed Quaraun once again.
"Why did you kill them?"
"Does it matter?"
"Maybe. Why did you kill them?"
"It was an arranged marriage. I didn't love her. I never even met her before our wedding night. She had someone else she wanted to marry, I had someone else I wanted to marry. She continued to see her lover, I continued to see mine... until she went power crazy. I was next in line to be King. The King was old and sick, and suddenly she want to be queen. She plotted with her lover, to kill me and my lover, then her son through me would be King. She'd kill him, while he was still a child, become Queen. I didn't care about the crown. I would have let her have it. But I loved BoomFuzzy. I was soul bond to BoomFuzzy."
"Soul bond? Are you a soul bound Elf?"
"I am."
"The soul binding ritual is illegal."
"I know. It is now. Now that they know how dangerous it is. What it does to an Elf to have his soul ripped out by the murder of his lover. She killed my lover. BoomFuzzy's soul was ripped out of mine. I felt so empty inside. I loved BoomFuzzy. She killed BoomFuzzy, so I killed her. I loved my children, but I couldn't bare that she was their mother, so I killed them too. I regret that. I deeply regret killing my children. I love them so much, and I miss them terribly. But I don't regret killing my wife. She killed BoomFuzzy. She had to die."
Tears were streaming down Quaraun's cheeks.
"BoomFuzzy isn't an Elf name. What kind of a name is that?"
"BoomFuzzy was a Faerie."
"So you don't hate half-Elves?"
"No."
"Why'd you call my children mongrels?"
"I told you, your wife misunderstood my meaning. I meant no offence. I've lived alone too long. I used to be civilized. Now I'm no better then a wild dog. I've forgotten manners and social skills. I've no one to but myself to talk to for so many years now."
"And you cry. I had heard High Elves did not show emotion."
"We have emotions. We share a hive mind. What one feels, we all feel. The whole must think as one, or be cut out for not conforming. I was a child. Nine years old when they cut me out. I was filled with fear. Terror. Dread. They couldn't stand it. Rather them comfort the child, the solution was to cast it out. Abandoned. Unloved. Unwanted. There was at the time, a group of Demons traveling through the area. Thullids. Demon priest of the Di'Jinn Order. They sold me to the Di'Jinn priests. Thus how I became a Wizard. Seven decades in chains. Learn your potions or go hungry. Memorize the runes or gain lashes to the back. Let the Alchemists force feed you toxins, or have your nails ripped off."
Quaraun removed the gold dragon claw armor rings that covered his fingers, revealing that he had no fingernails. The ends of his fingers, covered in scars. He lacked the distinctive razor sharp claws High Elves possessed.
"They pulled them out. One by one. Because I couldn't memorize the sacred tomes. The grimoires of ancient Sorcerers, in languages I'd never heard of."
"You've no claws."
"No. They pulled them out. Ripped them out with burning hot tongs. It hurt so much. I couldn't use my hands for weeks."
"I'm sorry."
"You know not what it is, to become a Wizard. No one chooses to become a Wizard. No one. The priest, they take young boys away from their homes and kin and train them, mutate them, mold them, torture them. You learn magic or die horribly. So much pain and suffering. And so few live. So many young boys die in agony. I lived. I hated them. Every day they tortured me, I learned to hate them more. I was determined to live, just so I could spite them and used the very magic they taught me to kill them. You know not what it is to become a Wizard. They strip us of every last dignity. The Human priests are the worst of them all. Starve us and rape us. Made us their slaves. Mutated us into ungodly beasts of magic. We were nothing but weapons to them. They saw us not as living beings, but high powered swords they could wield in war. Chained us up in magic restraining bonds, shackles that prevented us from using the magic they embedded in us. They created us, but they feared us. They built us, then slaughtered us when the war was over."
"I didn't know."
"No one does. They built us, then they spread rumours and lies. Filled the world with fear of Wizards. Everyone hates Wizards and no one knows why. We were nothing but tools of war. Expendable. The most powerful Wizards are the ones who were tortured the most, the longest, we endured where others couldn't. I hate using magic. I almost never do. I can point at a village and tell it to die, and every last man, woman, child, beast, bird, and plant will wither away to ask. Like they never existed. I can pull the energy out of the core of the Earth and send it through an army. Kill every last soldier in in the blink of an eye. They built me to be a weapon of war. I'm living weapon of mass destruction and I hate it. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want this. I just want to live a normal life. People think we wanted to become Wizards. The Guild built us. And now they are trying to erase their mistake, by killing us off. Finderu is a hypocrite. He's a Wizard too. They built him, just like they built me. But he's nowhere near as powerful as I am. No one is. No one even comes close to me. THAT'S why I'm punished. Not for the murder of my wife and children. Finderu doesn't care about that. I love the power. He likes being a Wizard. And he hates that he's not at my level. He's all the Wizards more powerful than him, so he can be the most powerful Wizard in the world. Power is all he cares about. I'll never have peace while he's alive."
"Is that why you are here? To kill Finderu?"
"Yes. He's the Jarl of this region. I'm here looking for him."
"You very emotional. I've never seen an Elf with some much emotion."
"They tortured us. At night we slept chained in prison cells. My own family sold me to the Di'Jinn and do you know why? Because I witnessed my mother's murder. My father, murdered my mother. And he hid it. He hid it from the hive mind! I was only 9 years old. I saw him do it. He was going to kill me too, but my uncle stopped him and sold me to the Di'Jinn. I was raised by Demons, not Elves. Demons do not hide their emotions. I never learned to hide my emotions. The Di'Jinn are all Demons. Except me. I'm the only non-Demon to live through the rigors of Di'Jinn training. And I surpassed them. I surpassed them all and now I am more powerful than all of them, and for what? It matters for nothing. I am alone. I have no one. I never wanted to be a Wizard. I never wanted to be a King. Both these things were forced on me. BoomFuzzy is dead and I am shunned and hated by all. We cry. We laugh. We feel joy and sadness. Only those raised in the hive mind unit show no emotions. They are taught not to. Emotions disrupt the hive mind. But I'm not part of the hive mind, am I? I was never welcomed into the hive mind. I was never taught not to shed tears."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"No one does. And no one cares enough to find out. Too quick to judge. So quick to condemn me before getting to know me. I'm tired of being judged. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of being alive."
"You are very lonely."
"Yes. I've been alone too long. I know this. One does not have to remind me."
"When was the last time you sat down like this and talked with some one?"
"Decades. Centuries. I don't know. I've lost track of time. Nothing matters anymore. BoomFuzzy is dead and I am alone."
"You can't stay here. The Guild's Witch Hunters are active in this area. If they came here and searched our home. Found a Wizard here... they'd board up the doors, and burn us alive in own home."
"I know what The Guild does. It's why I am here. I'm looking for Finderu. He must be stopped."
"How can one stop The Guild? They're killing mages and witches up and down the coast. They've taken over the government. They ARE the government now."
"One stops a killer, by killing him. I will find Finderu and kill him. This madness must stop. Were it not for The Guild's religion craze magic hating hysteria, fear mongers wouldn't be killing off the so-called magical beings. Dragons and Unicorns are nearly extinct. There's barely a hundred Wizards left on the planet. Faeries have been mass slaughtered. Entire Fae villages burned to the ground. We High Elves have been forced into the mountains. Even you Common Elves are being killed for no reason now."
"Killing Finderu's not the answer. He has too many followers now. You'll make him a martyr. They'll start worshiping him like a Saviour."
"Finderu's a hypocrite. A Faerie Wizard himself. He just doesn't like competition. Do you know why he founded the Guild? To get rid of King Gwallmaiic and Gibedon."
"The Necromancer King and his Necromancer General."
"Yes. Those who knew Gwallmaiic best, called him BoomFuzzy. My BoomFuzzy. He was King Gwallmaiic. Finderu got his wish granted. Gwallmaiic is dead and my heart is broken."
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Volume 2: Kelim and The Necromancer
Quaraun is hunting down the Guild and killing off it's members one by one. Guild leader Finderu is next on his list.
The tiny Pixie Kelim has fallen in love with the Lilac Faerie Ophelia, but Ophelia is in love with some one else and soon to marry him.
News of a wish granting DiJinn Wizard being sighted in the area, sends Kelim looking for a love potion that win Ophelia's heart. Bored with the Pixie's request, Quaraun sends Kelim on his way, but Kelim is persistent and demands the DiJinn grant his wish. Rebuked again by the wizard. Kelim returns a 3rd time desperate to stop Ophelia's wedding.
Obsessed with his plot to kill Finderu, Quaraun only acknowledges Kelim's plight upon discovery that Kelim's believed Ophelia is Finderu's daughter, and in a plot to murder Findaru, Quaraun finally agrees to grant Kelim's wish, but not until Kelim first signs a contract written in blood, agreeing to hand over his first born child to the world's most feared Necromancer.
The one thing Kelim forgot to remember was... never trust a wish granted by a DiJinn, especially not when that Di'Jinn is The Pink Necromancer himself.
A twisted baby murdering retelling of Rumpelstiltskin, this story tells what actually happened, in the bedtime story Quaraun had told to the Phooka in Night of the Screaming Unicorn.
Bandits and Highwaymen In the Night
Doe'Uan
Kelim and The Lilac Fairy
Finding Finderu (this link goes to my DeviantArt account)
Off To See The Swamp Hag
Kelim Meets Quaraun The Insane (this link goes to my DeviantArt account)
Hiring A DiJinn aka The Wish Granting Wizard
The DiJinn's Contract, Written In Blood
A Wish Granted
The Price of Love
Payment Due
Pocket Lich Unleashed: Quaraun Murders Finderu
Did you know...
Quaraun The Insane
aka
The Pink Necromancer
(A Transvestite Moon Elf Wizard)Quaraun was originally the unnamed villain of the Twighlight Manor series, known only as The Grand High Emperor of the Triple Planets, sometimes called The Pink Necromancer, said to be a transvestite Necromancer who built the Twighlight Manor. His massive wardrobe of jeweled pink dresses was carefully locked away in one room of the Manor, by Quaraun's grandson Roderic Swanzen, the main character of The Twighlight Manor series. While it is hinted to that Roderic knows what became of his infamous grandfather, no one is ever able to get Roderic to speak of The Emperor's disappearance and his vanishing after building The Twighlight Manor remains a mystery the series never revealed.
In the Twighlight Manor series Quaraun is portrayed as the evilest person to ever walk the face of the Earth. No one can remember his name, because after The Battle of Ongadada, his name was erased from history.
Yet, in the Twighlight Manor series, people exist, who say the stories about him are untrue, that evil men buried the truth to hide a secret far worse then Ongadada.
The Quaraun Series is the prequel to The Twighlight Manor series and tells the story of the Pink necromancer and the events which would lead up to his building The Twighlight Manor.
Throughout the Quaraun series, Quaraun is treated as the hero and is rarely seen as being evil. This is largely due to his being the primary point of view character of the series. The stories being told from his point of view of the world, means he is not seen as the villain, because he does not think himself evil. The Quaraun series is told from the perspective of a supervillain (Quaraun), who does not think of himself as evil or villainous.
Kelim and The Necromancer is one of the few stories in the series to show Quaraun as a villain. A story which shows the dark nature of the Necromancer and how far he is willing to go, to get revenge on the people who killed his lover.
You can find out more about The Pink Necromancer here.
Who is Pocket Lich?
Quaraun is hailed as "the world's most powerful wizard" partly because he is one of the few people to have ever killed a dragon. However, he had not set out to kill said dragon and her death was an unfortunate side effect of a spell gone wrong.
Distraught at having taken the life of an innocent peaceful creature, Quaraun resurrected the dragon, turning her into a Lich. She immediately set out the slaughtering villages.
Realizing the error of creating a DracoLich, but finding himself unable to kill her again, he instead creates a new world, a dragon's paradise, which exists inside a tiny green bottle that he carries in his pocket.
With his pet dragon safely locked away in her bottle, Humans forgot about the horrifying beast a DracoLich truly is or how dangerous a Necromancer with a Lich at his command actually is. Though mentioned in nearly every story, she rarely makes an on page appearance.
She was named Pocket Lich by Unicorn, another of Quaraun's Liches.
Originally a fire-breathing Black Dragon, Pocket Lich is now an undead ice-breathing Frost Lich Zombie Dragon.
Kelim and The Necromancer is the first and one of the few volumes in the series to actually show Pocket Lich. She is also seen in Summoner of Darkness, Captain Quirk and the Pirate Ship Rent-A-Prize, The Dragons of Ongadada, The Battle of Ongadada, and The Phooka of the Thousand Deaths.
Pocket Lich is seen on the covers of Friends Are Forever and The Dragons of Ongadada:
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Where's Unicorn?
Unicorn is NOT in Kelim and the Necromancer.
Evil Necromancer Quaraun, is almost never seen without his trusty Lich, BoomFuzzy the Unicorn, by his side. Kelim and the Necromancer is one of the few stories that does not feature Unicorn.
This story is set after BoomFuzzy's death (1158) and before Quaraun finds Unicorn at The Screaming Unicorn Inn (1458) during the 300 year period he wandered alone, hunting down The Guild and slaughtering it's members.
This volume features the murder of Guild leader Findaru.
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
Note: there are likely spelling errors on this site, and I am unlikely to see the ... I fix them when I find them, but, there are many issues here...
Note: English is not my first language, Shetlean Scottish is my native language, there are likly spelling and grammar errors, as I do not know American English and am attempting to write it by sounding words out.
Many times that Americans think a word on my site is misspelled, often it is not misspelled, it is just I mixed up languages and wrote it in Scottish without realizing I mixed the Scottish in with the English. Also our grammar is somewhat reversed from English grammar so words that are seeming in the wrong order for American English, is usually because they are in the correct order for Scottish and I either put English words in Scottish order by mistake or was unaware English put them in a different order then Scottish does.
For those unaware, Scottish Shetlean looks like this:
American English to Scottish:
a bit (piece) = a party --- EXAMPLE: "And some know a bit of Latin " > "And somme kan of latyn a party "
a long distance from = A piece fae
a piece of = the bit --- EXAMPLE: "The duck ate a piece of bread " > "The deuk ett the bit breid "
about the banks (on the shore/at the beach) = aboot da banks
accomplishments = kunnandi
After = Back o --- EXAMPLE: " After Halloween" > "Back o Hallomas "
alive (living) = kvikr
Always on the move = Never aff o da go
am I not = amn't I --- EXAMPLE: "Am I not invited? " > "I amn't invited? or Amn't I invited?"
are = is --- EXAMPLE: "Are you going soon?" > "Is ya to be going soon?"
autumn = dah haihst
belong to = fylgja
best = bettah moost
betray (verb) = svíkja
bewildered = villhyggjandi
building = biggin up --- EXAMPLE: "building confidence in everyday use " > " biggin up confidence in ivvryday øs "
built = builded --- EXAMPLE: "He built a new porch." > "Hims builded a new porch."
cast a spell = hoodooed
cat = kat (sounds like "caught") --- EXAMPLE: "Is it an orange cat?" > "Be he a o'jinn kat?"
child = bairn
church = kirk
color = colour
danger = hœttr
daren't = darena
daring = djarfr
dark = dökk
dark elf = Dökkálfr
dark-elves = Døkkálfar
darker = dökká
do you agree = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "That's a fine looking woman, do you agree?" > "Dair's ah right bonnie lass, eh?"
do you want to come too = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "I'm going to the store, do you want to come with me?" > "Me go to shope, eh?"
each = eche --- EXAMPLE: "Which each person can understand " > "That kan eche man understonde "
educated = lered --- EXAMPLE: "Both among the educated and the uneducated " > "As wel among lered as lewed "
elf = Alfr
Elf = Álfr
Elf Home = Álfheimr
Elf World = Álfheimr
elf-advice = Ælfred
elf-beautiful = ælfscyne
elf-friend = Ælfwine
elf-guardian (female) = Ælfwaru
elf-guardian (male) = Ælfweard
elf-powerful = Ælfric
everyday = ivvryday
eyelids = eye ledes --- EXAMPLE: "He closed his eyelids." > "Hims did shut hims eye ledes"
fair = faire --- EXAMPLE: "Going to the fair." > "Done gone went to the faire."
feild = felde --- EXAMPLE: "Standing in the feild." > "Stoodt in thems felde."
further = ferther --- EXAMPLE: "I looked further." > "I dids lokid ferther."
green = grene --- EXAMPLE: "Look at the green hedges and woods." > "Look see at thems heigges and holtz so grene."
handsome = braw --- EXAMPLE: "He is very handsome " > "Him wicked braw "
have faith = trúa
Have no doubts about our doing it = Nae faer o wis
Have no liking for this. = Hae nae brou o this.
have not = ain't
He knows how many beans make five. = He kens the laid frae the croun o the causey.
He knows which side his bread is buttered on. = He kens whilk side his bannock's buttert on.
Head for = Mak wye for
head rope in fishing nets and lines = baak
head to head = Be at the knag and the widdie
horse fly = klegsie
I = Me
I Think = Me thinks --- EXAMPLE: "I think we're late. " > "Me thinks that we is late. "
I wish you well for the future = Lang may yer lum reek (translation: Long may your chimney smoke)
idiot = eejit --- EXAMPLE: "You idiot." > "Ya eejit."
idiot = numpty
if = iffy or yif--- EXAMPLE: "If you don't mind..." > "Iffy yas does no care mind...."; "If you'll stay with me long enough = "Yif ye so longe with me wil dwelle". "
I'll be even with you = A'll see day aboot wi ye
know = ken
looked = lokid
looked = lokid --- EXAMPLE: "I looked up." > "I lifte up me eye ledes and lokid ferther."
magic = hoodoo
naked = nøkkviðr
needle = bodkin
neither = nouther --- EXAMPLE: "Who know neither Latin nor French " > "That kan nouther latyn ne frensch "
No = Nay --- EXAMPLE: "No, I don't think so. " > "Nay, me thinks not. "
Nobody knew = not-knew nobody
Noontide = Da heicht o da day
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "Did you meet the new family next door?" > "Dids ya gets a chance to stop by and meets with thems new folk that move-ed in down yawn there next doors to ya, eh?"
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "He went to Rite-Aid to pick up his prescription" > "Hims did go to that yawn there new fangled store the new folks call that Rite Aid place, to gets himself some of thems there pills what the doctor gone and tells him to take each morning, a-yep, hims did."
old = olde --- EXAMPLE: "But educated and uneducated, old and young " > "Bot lered and lewed olde and yonge "
orange = o'jinn
out = oot --- EXAMPLE: "The cat wants to go out." > "The kat he do wants oot."
outside = oot dair
people = fokk --- EXAMPLE: "the people of Shetland " > "Shetland fokk "
people = folke --- EXAMPLE: "Look at all those people." > "Lookie at all thems folke."
poorly = febelly --- EXAMPLE: "Who know French very poorly " > "That kan frensch ful febelly "
Recognising = Recognisin --- EXAMPLE: "Recognising the bilingual nature of Shaetlan speakers " > "Recognisin da wye at Shaetlan spaekers is bilingual "
shield = skjoldr
Since = For --- EXAMPLE: "Since that is your native language " > "For that is youre kynde langage "
tell = telle --- EXAMPLE: "I'll tell you in English " > "In englysch tonge I schal you telle "
the = da, de, or is not used at all --- EXAMPLE: "I went to the store" > "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to shoppe"
them = dem, dem dair --- EXAMPLE: "I went with them" > "Me goes wit dem dair"
there = dair --- EXAMPLE: "I want those potatoes" > "Me be wanting dem dair tatetas."
they = dey
To where = whither --- EXAMPLE: ""Where you go, I will go." " > ""Whither thou goest, I'll go."
understand = understonde
understand = understonden --- EXAMPLE: "Some understand English " > "And somme understonden englysch "
very = wicked --- EXAMPLE: "very good" > "wicked good"; "very bad" > "wicked bad"; "very cold" > "wicked cold"
Where = Whither --- EXAMPLE: "Where is the restroom? " > "Whither is the privy?"
Yes = Yea or Aye --- EXAMPLE: "Yes, I think so. " > "Yea, me thinks so. " or "Aye, me thinks so. "
For anyone actually interested in learning my native language, the Scottish government has THIS listed as the official dictionary of our people: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/61d7352954b7fd1c9dbdfef4/t/65ddb2749d5e0541a01009c0/1709027964496/Spaektionary_2024feb.pdf
The Scottish government provides this document to show our language in use: https://www.shetland.uhi.ac.uk/t4-media/one-web/uhi-shetland-images-and-documents/documents-/shaetlan/Shaetlan-Language-Plan-2022-Shaetlan.pdf
More information about our language can be found on this website: https://www.iheardee.com which is written in my native language.
However, there is also other reasons why words might be misspelled, or why I might not understand someone when they speak to me.
My grandmother Helen Ricker Allen, was from Unst, Shetland, Scotland, and she the one who raised me. She taught me to read and write, but it was Shetlain that she taught me. She died when I was 8 years old, and I was locked in a woodshed after her furneral, I escaped the woodshed 27 years later at age 31, and have been trying to learn how to speak and write English since then.
It is a very great struggle.
At age 37 I took remidial reading and speaking classes at Southern Maine Community College, but we are Gypsies and Gypsy men do not allow us Gypsy women to have education, and so, while at college, on November 14, 2013, I was beaten with a golf club, while I was 8 months pregnet, breaking my spine, hips, and knees, killing my baby and leaving me quardepaleic since.
Now my primary focus these past 13 years has been on relearning to use my hand so I could type... as of 2023, I have regained the use of my right thumb, and first two right fingers, and after 10 years offline, I am back online due to I can use three finguers.
I never went to school, so I do not know maths and numbers and sciences, and I do not know what else would have been taught to me in school. We are Scottish Gypsies and Gypsy culture does not allow females to go to school. Being born female was already a great sin, but my grandmother took great risk in teaching me reading and writing. At 4 years old I was punished by my Uncle Bruce for knowing how to read, by being beaten in the face with a cinder block brick, that broke my right jaw and left me with garbaled near-mute spoken words ever since.
Because no one ever spoke words to be face to face from he time I was 8 years old until I was 37 years old (I escaped the room at age 27, but did not start college until 37), I have no training in how to vocally sound out or speak the words I write or read. I can read words, but I do not know how to sound out or say those words. I can write words, but I do not know how to match the written word against the spoken word. I struggle to associate spoken words at all, or make them match up with writen words.
Esentially, written words and spoken words are two completly seperate languages in my brain, and I have difficulty understanding spoken words.
If you say a sentance to me with your mouth, chances are very high I will have ZERO understanding of what you said and I will not be able to ander you.
However, if you WRITE down that exact same sentabnce, I can understand you and can type a written responce to you.
My doctors tell me this is a side effect of extreme isolation and neglect and lack of human contact during my toddler, childhood, teen, and young adult years, and that my brain never deveoloped to comprehend spoken vocal words due to no one ever speaking to me in over three decades of the first half of my life.
While I can read and write, American English (somewhat) I do no know how words are sounded out, what they are supposed to sound like. I readand write by shape recognition, not by sound/vocal recognition, so when reading and writing I do no "hear the words in my head" as I am told most people do when they read and write. In other words... I see "c a t" and think "c-a-t" I do not think "cat" nor do I "see" an image of a cat, no do I "hear" the word cat spoken. I'm told that this is very rare and that most people read and write by sounding out the words and linking them to visual mind images, while hearing the sound of the word in their head. I neiher hear words in my head no see images of things in my head. I'm told this is what makes me both a speed reader and speed writer, because I'm not tripped up by hear sounds or seeing images in my head like nomal people would be doing... however, I'm also told this is why my spelling and grammar are very poor, because my brain is not hear the sounds of the words or seeing visual images of the objects the words represent, so my mind also does not register spelling and grammer errors at all.
As I was only let out of the woodshed on Sundays to go to the Cape Elezabeth Ward Church of the August Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I was never allowed to go to school or hospital either. No adults ever talked to me because I was evil for comitted the sin of being born female, so I never learned how to speak properly and do not know how to sound out words to say them.
I was 42 years old, in 2016 when, while having an MRI for my spine, the doctors found out my speak issue was caused by a broken jaw as a toddler that was healed wrong because not being allowed to go to doctors. I had surgury to fix that, and since 2016 have been trying to learn how to use my jaw and touge so I can speak vocal words now.
Since 2023 my primary focus shifted to relearning to walk. I can now, in 2026, sit up for 2 or 3 hours a day, and can sand with a cane for a few minutes, and can walk for around five thousand feet in 2 to 3 segments a day, with the help of pushing my wheelchair like a walker.
As of 2026, with a slight return to using my fingers and legs, I am once again focused on trying to learn the American English, but I live in mortal fear of my uncles and male cousins, as they are so hateful of allowing me to have education.
have no one to help me to know if I am doing words correctly, and as such, I have no way of knowing if there are spelling and grammar errors, but I asume there are, and I fix them when I learn them, but I do not know what I do not know and spelling American words is a thing I do bnot know.
I have Low Fucntioning Kanner's Syndrom, also known as "RainMan Type of Autism" aka REAL and ACTUAL Autism, not to be confused with Aspergers, High Functioning Autism, or and of thr 861 illnesses on the Autism Spectrum. An Autism Spectrum Disorder is an illness that has symptoms similar to Autism but IS NOT Autism. If you have an Autism Spectrum Disorder, it LITERALLY MEANS you do NOT have Autism.
I am medically diagnosed as "kanner's syndrome, actual autism, the rainman type, profoundly retarded autistic savant, with a general IQ of 73, and an writing IQ of 221" but they added that they did not know how to properly diagnose me as I am "technically a feral child" and they don't know "how much is the autism, and how much is simple horrific levels of abuse and neglect induced post traumatic stress disorder that will go away with proper socilization".
It means I know how to write, I can write a lot, and it is next to impossible for you to teach me how to do literally anythig else because my brain only knows how to write and doesn;t know how to do anything else..
There's a reason, when I do book signings, people are quick to say: "Okay, what's the joke? why is this stupid retard here? where's the real author? I know this retard isn't the author. where are you hiding the author, why is this fucking retard here"
The end result is, I have near zero social interaction... my 3 years in college was the ONLY face to face interaction I have ever had with humans in my entire life, and I struggle deeply to understand MOST words used by MOST people when they ask me question. And so I suffer from a huge lack of understanding many words people say to me, how to translate those words into spelling, and how to translate what it is that has been said.
The fact remains hat until there exists a human on this planet who is willing to sit down and teach me what words spoken line up with and match what words written, this deficent is unlily to improve. But the fact also remains, that I am simply far too profoundly retarded for anyone to even try to make any attempt at all even to speak a friendly "hgelloe" or "good morning" when passing me on the street, so I have lost all hope of anyone ever either being my friend, being willing to teach me how to match spoken words to written words, or how to speak to other humans.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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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.
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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.
Important:
Fraudulent sites are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official website for Wendy Christine Allen is www.eelkat.com
Fraudulent social media accounts, particularly on Reddit and FaceBook are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official social media accounts for Wendy Christine Allen are listed in the footer here at www.eelkat.com
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.
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If you encounter a page which asks for a password, no, you can not request access. There are over 2k pages of this website set to password access, due to the ongoing FBI investigation into my son's murder. If you are a police officer authorized access these pages but do not have the passwords, let me know, I will deliver the passwords to the specific pages you are allowed to access, to you via the Portland FBI office and you can pick them up from the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation.
Pages where you can find out more information on that:
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What's New (Newly Published or Recently Updated or Edited)
IMPORTANT NOTE: There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
If you are one of (as of December 2025, the now more than ten thousand) daily visitors, who arrive here daily in search of SEO advice, I made this page for you:
The Park Bench Method of Writing
Crazy Woman Just Attacked - No Clue Why or Who She Is
Articles For Writers on How To Write & Publish A Rapid Release Series
For Anyone Looking for:My response to MUFON's Amphibious Aliens? My response to Coast to Coast AMs Arrival in my yard?
Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) Yes, I am aware there are a lot of spelling errors on this site. No, I likely will not be fixing most of them. I have been quadriplegia/paralyzed arms and legs since November 14, 2013; As of 2026, I have regained use of two fully functional fingers on my right hand, and only stiff limited movement of all remained eight fingers. This causes most of the typos and spelling errors as my near-dead pinky and ring fingers tend to drag over the other letters on the keyboard. Attempts to correct errors, often causes more errors for the same reason. Much of my writing is also speech to text, but I have "profound low functioning, non-verbal kanner's syndrome aka autism aka the rainman type" (that is what the medical diagnosis called it), I have the medically diagnosed retarded type of autism, that medical doctors mean when they say "real and actual autism", I do not have the cool trend self diagnoses tiktok type of "autism". What this means is, in spite of five decades of trying, I have very limited vocal speaking abilities and a lower then average vocabulary, that leaves my speaking ability around the level of a 4 or 5 year old child; I do not know math or money or clocks and. I also, was raised by a Shetland Scottish Grandmother (Helen Ricker Allen) until her death when I was 8 years old, and she did not speak American, she spoke Shetland/Scottish, Shetlandic, which is a Nordic language, different from Scotts Language, not related to Gaelic which is what many Scottish speak, and while classified as a type of Scottish English is is considered "Olde medieval Norse" dialect of Scottish English and spoken by fewer then two thousand people as of 2026. It is the language of Scottish Travelling Gypsies, which is what we racial are. I was 31 years old first time I ever heard American English, and only started to learn American English at 42 years old. Right now in 2026 at 51 years old, I am able to speak American English on around the level of an 8 year old child, and greatly do not understand over 90% of American words, American slang, and American media references. What this means is, OFTEN words you think are spellt wrong (like color vs colour, or traveling vs travelling, are in fact NOT spelt wrong, because I use Scottish spellings) and often when I hear an American word, I spell it phonetically because I do not know the correct American spelling. Likewise we Scottish do not have words like my or your, and so say me and you, in places where Americans would say my and your. I also use Scottish word meanings, not American word meanings, for example Unicorn means a blood thirsty flesheating shapeshifting sea creature that comes on land and pretends to be a wounded horse to lure in humans to eat, it can only be captured by a virgin. But when I say Unicorn, a word I frequently use, because I write Unicorn folkloric short stories... I find that most Americans connect Unicorns to children's cartoons, gay pride, or swinging sex lives... I struggle to understand who in their right mind thought the most bloodthirsty monster of Scotland folklore was good fodder for children's cartoons or "sex positive" mascots, me thinks Americans need to brush up on the lore of Unicorns using their horns as sword to stabbed people's eyes out, while gallopping through swamps with rows of bloody Human heads hanging from their backs via braids made of Human entrails... really, why did Americans thinks a monster like a Unicorn was fit for children's cartoons or sex positivity? Americans is weird. All this to say... speech to text software, struggles badly with my thick Shetland accent, my slurred Autism speech impediment, and causes additional misspellings and typos because it can not figure out what words I am trying to say. And while I could take the time time to run all of it through a spell checker, that does require better hand mobility then I have, to copy the text from one program to the next and manually click each word, with finger mobility that I simply do not have, but also, most of my time is spent in trying to relearn to walk, and if you are local, you've probably seen this as I'm a stubborn bitch who refused to accept the doctor disnosis that I will never walk again, so, I walk around the block every day pushing my wheelchair, refusing to sit in my wheelchair, and... ...it's taking me 13 years to do it, but, I'm not actually able to stand up and make it all the way around the block now, and my focus on trying to relearn to walk is far more important to me, then catering to your pampered arse by fixing spelling errors, when there are far bigger problems to worry about in life, the spelling errors made by a quadriplegic who is typing this with her only two functioning fingers. Also, in recent years, I've watched the internet devolve into a mindless clusterfuck of ChatGPT written everything. Everyone sounds the same online these days, because no writes their own work anymore. Every website out there has become a carbon copy of each other, because they are all be written by ChatGPT now. I think ChatGPT makes a funny thing to chat with in your spare time, so you can laugh at the hilarity of how inaccurate it's responses are... but I am horrified that people are using AI for serious writing, writing they publish and try to pass off as their own. We live in a society where people people are forgetting how write. Heck I can read and write cursive, calligraphy, italic, short hand, and editor's marks, also edit my books by hand diagraming every sentence, and that... start walking around your neighbourhood and ask anyone under 30 if they sentence diagraming IS, let alone how to do it. So yes, I CAN spell check, and no I don't, for anything but my novels and short story collections, I spell check when it matters... and this is a website, not a printed book... but also, I am just getting so damn fucking fed up with endless AI writing online, so, no, I'm not going to fix errors and typos on my website, and you can bitch about that all you want (yes, I do get your messages, I just don't answer anyone in private) but, honey, maybe instead of bitching over my spelling errors, be thankful is still at least one website on the internet that still being written by a Human now in 2026 when ChatGPT writes over 70% of all posts online. |
Looking for my annual NaNoWriMo Prompts and Dares? I've been publishing these every year since 2004!
 The Park Bench Method of Writing The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane: Paperpacks & Hardcover Editions on Amazon:
Not sure what the series is about? Check out and Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post and Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers and How well do I know Quaraun? - Let's find out! to find out more about the plot and lore of the series. Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:
Or if after reading those, you still are looking for more free to read stories, there are over three thousand of them on this site, too many to list here, but here a few dozen to get you started... ...you can just jump in and try reading some of the free to read online stories first before committing to buying the books:
Hmmm... soooo... I was making the above list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here, and adding it into the footer of my site, here as you can see, which loads on every page, and then I realized... wait... there are over two thousand Pink Necromancer stories up free to read on my website, I can't put two thousand links on every single page! Whoops! LOL! So, now I'm putting list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here on this page instead and just link that page to the footer instead. But also I'll just leave some of the links in the footer, as you can see above.
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
The Space Dock 13 WebRing
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Yes, this website (founded in 1996) is old enough to have WebRings on it, and they are still in use.
Don't know what a WebRing is?
They were how we webmasters used to get traffic to our websites before the invention of search engines (aka before Jeeves, DogPile, Yahoo. Google, Bing, or the rest existed). In their simplest form a WebRing is an html code that rotates link displays. In their more advanced form they are java scripts that give random results. Each ring had three active links titled "Previous", "Random", and "Next", clicking any of the 3 links would take you to the next website in the ring.
Web Rings are the REASON the internet was called "the world wide web". To use them, each webmaster submitted their site to the ring, a single code held 100 websites, and codes could be stacked to hold 100 code sets (or 10,000 links to 10,000 websites), each web master in the list, would then place the code in the footer of their website.
This created the SPIDER WEB that was the literal WEB OF LINKS that gave the internet it's name "World Wide Web" and is WHY websites are CALLED "web sites". And technically, your site is not a WEB site unless it is connected to a WEBRing, likewise you technically are not a WEBMaster if you do not build WEBrings links for you WEBsite to connect to the WEB.
Unfortunately, most knowledge of WebRings, and whi sites were called WEBsites and sites on the WEB were called the World Wide Web, vanished from the internet in 2014 when the official WebRing.org company who managed 90%+ of the internet's WebRings went out of business after the infamous Google Panda 2013 bot attack that delisted ALL websites from the Google Index if they contained a WebRing of links to other websites in it's footer.
And while most sites abandoned the use of WebRing Codes on their sites, Space Dock 13 did not. The Space Dock 13 WebRing remains active, now 28 years after it's creation. Over the decades however, one by one all the other websites in the ring have gone off line, and as they did, I replaced the url with a link to a page of my own website (as this is a java code - it updated on every website without the others needing to change anything). Today in 2026, eelkat.com is the last remaining website in the ring, and now all 10k links go only to pages on eelkat.com, no longer sending you to other websites.
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The Park Bench Method of Writing
IMPORTANT NOTE:
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
Want even more writing prompts?
Do you have information about my son's murder and need the FBI contact information:
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322
If anyone contacts you saying 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, is for sale, know that they are lying to you... it is my land, and it has been in my family since 1531... and the ONLY person whom has EVER gone around saying it is for sale, is a woman who the FBI believes to be the same woman who murdered my son.
My son is buried here, and the FBI believes she is trying to buy my land in order to destroy his grave and destroy evidence of his murder.
Since my son's murder November 14, 2013, every year dozens of real estate agent show up all with a story of a female developer who is offering them MILLIONS of dollars for my lot of land that is only 1/4 of an acre and is not big enough to develop.
When shown police sketches of my son's murderer, the real estate agents say "Yes, that's the woman who hired me to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine", but then the woman disappears and the real estate agents never hear from her again... all contact information she gave them turns out to be fake.
The woman who murdered my son, is DESPERATELY trying to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... this is the woman to watch out for... and this is what she did:
Looking to find out more about my son's murder, that information is on these pages:
Answering the questions:
Can you give me links to the news reports of your son's murder?
and
Why can't I find any news reports about this?
Maine has well over a thousand murder cases that have never been in the news.
I found this out after my son was murdered November 2013, and a year later I found out it had never been in the news, even though I was hounded for weeks by news people. I went to each of the over a dozen TV stations and newspapers whom had showed up at the hospital and asked why they had never published any report after all the trouble they had gone through to (in some cases illegally) het into the hospital to interview me.
in every case they said some version of "well, it just wasn't news worthy, there was nothing we could use to get views". Really? These were big news stations, channel 13, 6, 8, Portland Press Herald, Bangor Daily...
What exactly was it they claimed was "not news worthy"?
I'll tell you.
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. At Southern Maine Community College in the parking lot of The Buglight Art Studio beside the Spring Point Lighthouse.
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.
Oh yeah, and I've been quadriplegic for 13 years.
oh yeah one more thing, same trio, they also found out where i lived in Old Orchard Beach and drove a backhoe over my house as well.
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146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine... July 4, 2013 vs August 8, 2013 |
I have been homeless and quadriplegic for 13 years, and right now it's just a few weeks away from both my son's 14th birthday and the 14th anniversary of the day he was murdered, both of which happened the same day.
Explain to me what about any of that is "not newsworthy"?
I did find out WHY it was deemed not newsworthy. "it would negatively impact tourism" was their reason. The College at Fort Prebble is a tourist destination. The lighthouse at the college is a tourist destination. My house on Portland ave is situated on the primary road to the beach that is a tourist destination.
The news reporters explained to me that, they risked losing their jobs if they publicised "negative news" occurring in these sorts of tourist destination spots.
My son's murder wasn't in the news, because it might cause tourists to stop visiting that lighthouse. That was the reason the reporters gave me.
How often are there things not being reported on just so businesses don't lose tourist money?
How often does this happen? A lot, I've since found out. In trying to find other mothers of murdered children to interact with... I found five others JUST in Old Orchard Beach, whom the murders were not in the news, and all of them happened after my son's murder. I found 2 such mothers in Scarbourogh, their children's murders not in the news. I found over a dozen more in the Bar Harbore area, also all not in the news.
It's a very disturbing trend here in Maine, one that I never would have found out about had my own son not been murdered.
One thing's very clear: in Maine you can get away with murdering a child, if you do it in a big tourist location, because news stations REFUSE to report any crime occurring in tourist locations.
Fuck torists.
I don't give a shit about your precious tourist money.
My son was murdered and I want his killer found... and I am VERY displeased with the deplorable way news stations try to bury child murders in Maine, just to appease tourist funded businesses.
And if you're one of those lunatic jackass bullshitting alien abduction UFO freaks, looking for haunted cars, Stephen King, cryptids, or EBEs, first off, you can go fuck yourselves. I am so damned sick of you conspiracy brained motherfuckers harassing my family and turning my son's murder case into a circus of you psycho deranged bullshit. Here's some pages for you:
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