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. |
Psychotic Dead Things
Into The Swamp of Death
(novel excerpt)
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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.
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.
Health update: August 4, 2026 - in recovery for 6 months+ (at least until mid-January 2027...all book and video game releases are pushed back at least 6 months) see video below for why...
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Update Sept 3, 2026:
I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.
I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy.
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update sept 7, 2026
"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?
I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.
So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.
see video below for more information:
@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
update Sept 15, 2026:
I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed
you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?
all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,
well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.
waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.
update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine
Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.
Sample Chapter from:
Quaraun and the Vampire, Into the Swamp of Death
Volume 8 of
The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
"He's a Lich," Quaraun said to no one in particular.
"Who a Lich," asked the Vampire as he moved around the table to a new chair, sat down beside Quaraun and poured him another drink. The liquid came out of the pitcher purple and pink striped this time. Quaraun had not yet noticed a different drink was coming out each time or that they were impossibly coloured.
“Here, has more drink.” The Vampire handed Quaraun the purple and pink striped potion.
"Do you never get tired of bothering me?"
"Oh no! Never! I could torments ya for an eternity. It is ever so much fun. Un as I is all dead un immortal, or undead un whatever, un yis a Necromancer trapped here in the netherworld with evil lil me, looks like I might just get to do that. Me Heaven seems to be yar Hell. So basically yis in Hell un I just gonna torment ya forever. Which is must make this Heaven for me. Is it not wonderful?"
"Wonderful. Greeeeat. I'm overjoyed," Quaraun answered sarcastically. "Why do I always get stuck with psychotic dead things following me?”
“Because yis psychopathic Necromancer, me t’inks.”
“I hate dead things."
"Oh un blood! Wooooooh oooh oooh! Haha! Oh, let us not forget blood! Ya always get stuck with bloody dead things that make ya faint. Here have a glass a milk steeped in blood, cheer ya right up."
THUD
"Hmmm. Hahaha. Never fails." The Vampire looked down at Quaraun, unconscious on the floor. "I tinks I really could do this for an eternity. Un looks like I is gonna get to. Hahaha!"
"Is he alright?" The barmaid asked, peering over the bar.
"Oh, him fine. He be just scared milk un faints at sight of blood. Him wake shortly. I does this to him all the time. Been doing this to him for centuries now. He has'na got enough brains to figured it out yet. I has been dead for a few hundred years ya know. Been haunting me poor wee Elf, pretty much hims whole life. Absolutely the most I has ever had. I love being Lich. Him keep killing me un I just keep coming back. It be ever so much fun un it just a lot more funner, now that I can actually see him. I used to be blind, ya know. I never seen no one so scared of milk before. I never used to see him at all. Never even heard of anyone being scared of milk before."
"Scared of milk?" Another barmaid asked.
"Mmm-huh. Heheha. Ooooh. Me poor Elf. Bad heart un scared of milk."
"Who's scared of milk?"
"He is."
"I thought he was a Necromancer."
"Ohhh. That him is. Him is, big bad evil mega villain un he faints at the sight of blood un milk un spiders un mice un water un bridges un oooh, that be what make this so much fun to do this to him...ahh...yis awake agains."
"I am so sick of people doing that to me," Quaraun growled as he got back up off the floor.
"Aye, well, maybe ya should get over yar fear of bloody milk. Haha! Now, who's a Lich?"
"Unicorn."
"I thought him was Phooka?"
"He was a Phooka and he turned himself into a Lich after turning himself into an Elf. And he acts like you.”
“Me? How so?”
“He took every opportunity he could to scare me and make me pass out.”
“A trickster then?”
“Yes. He's the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley."
"Really, eh? Well that be new kettle of fish. Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, eh? Him was most powerful wizard of all known realms of existence. Planes Jumper. Realm traveller. HeadgeWalker..."
"Psychotic Lich."
"Psychotic, eh?"
"Yes. Very psychotic. He kind of reminds me of you."
"Imagine that. I wonder why?”
“I seem to attract lunatics to me.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Yes. It does.”
“Admitting yis insane?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Un yar Unicorn it be him that were this psychotic Lich?"
"Yes."
"Is ya sure?"
"Yes. I killed him three times, I can't get the bastard out of my life, he's hung up on tormenting me for god knows what reason. It doesn’t matter how many times he dies. He always comes back. Of course I'm sure."
“Does ya nay want him coming back?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Sounded like it.”
“I like him. He just takes his pranks too far some times.”
"Did ya ever look at yarself in a mirror? Damn yis hot. Un ya smell so delicious."
The Vampire nuzzled up close to Quaraun and licked his neck.
"There be nothing like Elf blood to stir me desires to boiling mad. It been made ever so worse since becoming a Vampire. Draining yar gorgeous body of every last drop of blood is all I can tinks aboot.”
“You’re not going to drink my blood.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Ain’t nothing I can t’inks of I would rather do, ‘cepting maybe fucking ya.”
“You’ll not fuck me either.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Yi sure?”
Quaraun glared at the Vampire.
“Positive.”
“Iffy I promised to neither bite ya nor fucks ya, would ya sleep in me bed with tonight?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Yis lost un alone.”
“And you’re a Vampire.”
“Damn. I a Vampire now, I'll's never look at myself in a mirror agains will I?"
"Why would you look at yourself in a mirror? You're a Vampire. You don't cast a reflection."
"Ahyah. But I new Vampire. I showed up here the same day ya did. That makes me a Vampire for less then a week. I not used to it yet."
"I'm sorry."
"Not like I seen myself in a mirror in a few centuries any ways. Un I has never gotten a really good look at ya before either. Yis so much more beautiful then I thought ya were."
"And you're uncomfortably close to me."
The Vampire was nose to nose with the Elf, draping an arm around his shoulders.
"Aye, Elves do like their personal space dont they?"
"You're a Vampire and you're close enough to bite me."
"Ya used to let an Elf Eater get close enough to bite ya un yis an Elf."
"He was BoomFuzzy."
"Does that make a difference?"
"Yes. It does."
"Did ya only let the Unicorn fuck ya because ya thought he was BoomFuzzy?"
"Yes."
"What if I was BoomFuzzy?"
Quaraun stared at the Vampire.
"You're not BoomFuzzy."
"But what if I was?"
"You could do whatever you wanted to me."
"If I was BoomFuzzy?"
"If you was BoomFuzzy, which you're not."
"Is ya sure?"
"You're not BoomFuzzy."
"But yar, Unicorn, he was BoomFuzzy?"
"Yes."
"And BoomFuzzy is the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley."
"Yes."
"But ya were his lover."
"Yes."
"Did ya know he was the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley before becoming his lover?"
"No. Well. Yes. Kind of. I suspected it."
"Did ya remain his lover eftah finding out for sure?"
"Yes."
"How comes that, eh?"
"I love BoomFuzzy. Didn't seem to matter any more, who he was, by the time I found out. I went over and over it in my mind and it didn't matter, who he was. I still loved him. Poor Unicorn. He didn't want to be a Lich. He hated being a Lich. I was careless. I thought, because he was a Lich, that nothing could kill him. I was wrong. He was in his physical, non-Lich form, when the Orcs attacks. He could still die in his non-Lich form. I didn't know that. I would have been more careful of him, had I known that. And now he's dead."
"Is ya sure?"
"Unicorn's dead. Unicorn was BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy's dead."
"But ya said he was a Lich un Lich does'na die."
"And you're a Vampire. Vampires aren't supposed to die either, but they can. Stake through the heart, cut off your head, and all that stuff."
"Is ya planning to kill me?"
"No, but you are rather too close for comfort right now. I was just stating a fact. Things that are undead can be killed."
"No, actually. No really. Stake through heart, do'na actually kill us. I tinks. I will no want to test that though. We are like Liches. Turn to dust un disappear for a time, slowly regenerate un come back agains. So, staking a Vampire, does'na really kill us. I is na sure that ya could actually kill a Vampire permanently any better then ya could kill a Lich permanently. No, I suspect yar Unicorn is still alive, around here somewhere, if it is true he was a Lich. He's bound to be around here somewhere. Undead things always turn up agains when ya least expect them. It's the nature of us undead things, ya know. We just pop out of the woodwork when ya least expect us, un fuck the hell out of ya for no reason at all."
Quaraun stared at the Vampire, wondering if he should try to run away from it.
"Haha! Do ya know," the Vampire continued. "That ya are absolutely the most beautiful thing I has ever seen."
"Yes, everyone keeps telling me that. That's the problem of being an Elf. Eternal beauty and everyone, everywhere wants to fuck you because of it. Eternal beauty is a curse. Everyone, everywhere I go wants to fuck me. Humans especially! I've got young Human girls tossing themselves in my lap everywhere I go. Do you have any idea how many times I've had a Human fling herself on me and introduce herself by saying how much she loves my blue eyes and wants to have my babies? And I don't even like women! And men are always wanting to fuck me too. Though most of them, usually keep it to themselves. It’s very annoying.”
“That they keep it to themselves?”
“That they want to fuck me.”
“I want to fuck ya.”
“Like I said. Everyone, everywhere I go.”
“Can’na say as I blame them. I’d like to fuck ya too.”
“You’re rather bold aren't you?"
"I dead. Can'na get much bolder then being walking corpse."
"I suppose that's true. Why do dead things keep wanting to fuck me?"
“Are ya sure it be multiple dead things un not just always one dead thing in different forms? Phookas are shape shifters you know. Look like anything or anyone.”
“Yes. I do seem to attract dead shape shifters to me.”
"Yis a Necromancer, ya attract dead things to ya. Un yis a damn beautiful Necromancer, so young un physically perfectly flawless. Yar mind be sort of cracked, Thullid un all, so that's to be expected, but yar body be amazing.”
“I'm scarred.”
“That scar is always gonna bother ya, isn't it?”
“My body would be flawless without it.”
“Most Necromancers are old un hideous. Un damn, ya really DO have the most amazing blue eyes. I do'na tinks I ever noticed that before. Never was able to see ya eyes. They are bluer than a clear blue cloudless sky. I tinks I’ll agree with the Human girls, if I was a woman, I would be wanting lots of babies by ya too, so they all could all have yar blue eyes."
"I'm not sure if I should be scared of you or thank you for the complement."
"Maybe ya should let me fuck ya un find out."
Quaraun stared down at the drink he'd been drinking, which the Vampire had stopped refilling now that he was more absorbed in sniffing Quaraun's hair and licking his neck. The Vampire had a distinctive scent of cinnamon and cloves and gingerbread to him. Quaraun was beginning to feel very, very strange. He looked up at the room. It twisted and swirled out of place. The patrons in the tavern flickered on and off light candles trying not to blow out. The only thing that wasn't moving and twisting out of shape was the Vampire across from him at the table. It was only then that Quaraun realized the table, the floor, the building, and even the people wandering around the inn were all made out of gingerbread.
“BoomFuzzy.”
“What?”
“BoomFuzzy. He was an Illusionist. He made his illusions out of gingerbread.”
“Ya seeing gingerbread? Ya ain't had a drink in a bit, eh?”
"This place isn't real."
"Seeing that are ya? Maybe ya need more to drink."
Quaraun looked down at his drink. It was now orange with blue polka dits.
"What is this drink?"
"Angelic Ecstasy Ambrosia. They say that once ya drink it, ya become addicted to it. Yis aboot on yar 30th glass in the last few hours. Un ya, my pretty wee lil Elf, ya've been sitting here drinking it for days now. Yis aboot ready to just fly to the moon."
"What is in it?"
"No one knows."
"You're a Faerie aren't you? This is Fae food. You drugged me."
The Vampire flashed a wild Cheshire cat grin. "Brouhaha! Wooooooh oooh oooh! Haha! Hehe, ha haha! Oh, aye, I most certainly did. Poison frogs, hallucinogenic chocolate covered undead apricots, un psychedelic mushrooms are somewhat of a speciality of mine.”
“BoomFuzzy.”
“Ahyah.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because ya did something fucking bad un ya forgot what was.”
The Vampire changed forms, melting away to become the Moon Elf candy maker, who looked very much like Quaraun, except for his inky black eyes and masses of white afro curls that tangled into long wild dreadlocks. BoomFuzzy, dressed as always in long dark chocolate brown velvet robes, decorated with white icing-like embroidery and tiny red buttons resembling cinnamon candy.
“Are you BoomFuzzy, or just looking like him?”
“I is BoomFuzzy. Who else would make an illusion out of gingerbread un drugs ya with wine made of chocolate un apricots?”
“Chocolate?” Quaraun looked down at his drink. He was now holding a mug of cocoa.
“Ya can hide anything chocolate. Everyone loves chocolate un candy. Haha! Ya should know that by now, ya silly wee lil Elf."
"Why?"
"Because yis a Necromancer un I is Vampire who did'na want to be a Vampire - I do'na tinks, I is na sure yet what I tinks of being turned into a Vampire, but in any case I is Vampire who's somewhat pissed at Necromancers right now, un oh, haha! It's ever so much fun to drug ya Quaraun! Makes it so much easier to fuck the daylights out of ya. Ya turned me into a Vampire, without my permission, ya tinks I is gonna let ya get away with that."
"I'm not the Necromancer who turned you into a Vampire."
"Do no bet yar life on it."
"No, I'm not."
"Aye, ya are. My dear wee lil idiot Elf, ya most certainly are the Necromancer who turned me into a Vampire. Ya bloody, bloody, monstrous Thullid of an Elf. Yis downright evil. Ya has been living a double life. Of course, I was living a double life too. Or a triple un quadruple life rather. Oh my! I was so many people wasn't I? Haha! I had forgotten who I was. But so have ya...or rather ya turn yar back on what ya do. Look at ya, all yar pink frills, sweet wee lil Thullid Elf, so innocent, with so much blood on yar hands. Ya went too far this time. The words of prophet haunt yar soul, un ya can'na live with what ya've done."
"Words of the prophet? What are you talking about?"
“Chocolate covered candy apricots?” The Vampire placed a box of chocolates on the table. It was identical to the box FarDarrig had given him on Fire Mountain.
"Where did you get that?"
"I made it. It's what I do. I is candy maker remember?"
"BoomFuzzy."
"Yis an evil black hearted monster Quaraun. BoomFuzzy was a shapeshifter, remember? Could look like anything or anyone, remember? Ya need to wake up un look at what ya has become. Ya have done exactly what FarDarrig said ya would do. Ya killed yar friends."
Quaraun stood up, but stumbled dizzily and steadied himself with the edge of the table.
"Did not anyone ever tell ya, to never accept a drink from strangers in strange taverns? I seem to recall telling ya that myself, not much more then a year ago. Ya got a bad habit of walking into traps I set for ya. Gingerbread houses un Screaming Unicorns. Have ya never learned nothing from me? Ya idiot Quaraun. Ya killed yar people un blamed it on me! Ya thought ya could get away with it, because I lost me memory. Haha! Ya has restored everything, Quaraun. Everything. Ya did'na just restore yar wee lil Unicorn back to life. Ya restored me back to life too, with all me memories, un me health, un me eyesight, un all me powers. Did you forget in all your hunting of Liches, what a Lich was? A Lich is a very, fucking, very powerful wizard. For all your hunting for BoomFuzzy, you knew he was a Lich now, you forgot what it was a Lich really is. Or who BoomFuzzy was, when he wasn’t BoomFuzzy."
Quaraun looked over at the Vampire, who was now a glowing bright blue skeleton, with wild frizzy dread locked hair, and hovering Lich-like over the table.
"You're a Lich."
"I’m not just any Lich, Quaraun, I’m your Lich. I’m the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, leader of the Lich Lords. Ya thought I was a Lich when I first walked in here. Ya were right ya know. Ya restored me youth un me health. Oh ya got yar wish. Ya got exactly what ya wanted. Just not like ya thought. Ya fell into a Faerie trap AGAIN, Quaraun. Un ya has drunk so much Faerie wine, made by a Phookan Vampire Lich Lord, that ya created un restored magnificently. But BeaLuna was right, yis so damn addicted to my Faerie wine, ya always have been, it's become so easy for me to catch ya, agains un agains un agains. Poor wee lil Quaraun. Yis aboot ready to pass out from all that Faerie wine. Haha! Un ya remember, there are only two things ever on me mind, un ya've made me a Lich with solid corporeal body? I is Lich un I can touch ya. This is wonderful. Ya has made virtually indestructible. Un I is BoomFuzzy, who ya said can do anything he wanted to ya. Wahhabi! Yis such a wonderful idiot, Quaraun."
The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley laughed, as the Elf fell unconscious to the floor.
Volume 8: Into The Swamp Of Death
Quaraun wakes up in The Mournful Lamb Inn, with no memory of who he is or how he got there. Every one tells him he arrived covered in blood and collapsed, but no one can answer any other questions, save a gargoyle-like beast of a vampire, who tells Quaraun he is dead by suicide and wanders through the Swamp of Death, the holding ground between life and death, heaven and hell. The holding grounds for people too good for hell but too evil for heaven, as well as the place where lost souls wander until they can be set free: The Mournful Lamb being the resting place for murder victims and suicide victims.
Confused and alone, Quaraun tries to leave the inn, only to discover a vast barrier around it prevents any one inside from getting out.
The vampire tells him the only way out is to look into his own memories and seek out the truth: seek for the three friends, who never travelled with you, answer the question: why do always travel alone.
Unlocking his past reveal a horrifying truth: BeaLuna the Gnome, Bullgaar the Dwarf, and BoomFuzzy the Unicorn were never there - figments of his warped imagination or ghosts of the past, he can't tell which, but in all this time no one but Quaraun has ever seen any of them, for they are all ghosts who now haunt their murderer.
TRIGGER WARNING
This novel is about a murder-suicide, in which the suicide victim is found still alive.
This novel contains references to and graphic depictions of cutting, intentional drug overdose, suicide attempts, dismemberment, murder, and beheadings.
Some of these scenes are included in the free-to-read-online sample chapters.
Reader discretion is advised.
Possibly NSFW
BDSM YAOI
TORTURE PORN
BARBED KNOTTING WARNING
This novel contains one of the most graphically detailed and brutally violent CBT barbed-knotting torture/sex/rape scenes of the entire series. No part of this scene is available free-to-read online.
Reader discretion is strongly advised.
NSFW
The sample chapters listed below equal about 1/10th of the novel. No additional chapters will be made available free to read online.
The Mournful Lamb Inn
Everyone Is Dead?
Where Are Your Friends?
The Valley of the Katopas (Part 1)
The Valley of the Katopas (Part 2)
The Witch Massimara Of Mount Yenka
TYPE: Long Novella/Short Novel
WORD COUNT: 61,449 words
PAGE COUNT: 164 printed paperback pages
POINT OF VIEW: third person; Quaraun’s point of view usually; a few times from Unicorn’s
HAPPY EVER AFTER? no, this volume does NOT have a happy ending; character death ending
CLIFFHANGER ENDING: Yes. Sort of. Almost. This volumes ends with a sort of “To Be Continued...” that doesn’t actually continue
CONTINUING SERIAL? Yes; this is volume 8 of 130
INTERRACIAL COUPLES? Yes; a white skinned cross-dressing male Elf and his black skinned male Phooka lover.
Genre: Dark Fantasy > Sword & Sorcery > Bizzarro > Literary
LITERARY FICTION WARNING: This entire series is Slice of Life Vignette Literary Fiction, meaning there’s a lot of dialogue, a lot of talking, a lot of thinking, a lot of monologue, and a lot of emotional introspective, but not much action going on in this heavily character driven series. Each story is a narrow focused look at a single event (often a single day or hour) in Quaraun's life.
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂ And if it’s your birthday today: ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐꧁ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ☆ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ꧂🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭 |
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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.
 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.
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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