NaNoWriMo 2021 - New Untiled Quaraun Novel - being written live on Twitch - the WiP vomit draft for you to read as I write it is HERE |




Congratulations!

You have reached Maine's largest and most trafficked website. 

The official website of Stephen King's Thinner Gypsies

As of February 2021, we are now getting up to 7 MILLION visits per day!


This is the home page of

Maine author, artist, Voodoo Priestess, Gypsy Queen, and art car designer:

EelKat Wendy Christine Allen

Chances are high, I'm the most famous person, you'll ever meet.

I am EelKat

The REAL Gypsy Witch Stephen King based his Thinner Gypsy witch off of

and owner of the REAL World's Most Haunted car,

the car Stephen King based his fictional Christine off of,

My family, we are the Gypsies you see in The Thinner, the movie was filmed on my farm,

Founder of The Procter & Gamble Boycott

EelKat of Squidoo, EelKat Voice of the Voiceless.

EelKat Etiole's Friend.

We are the Gypsies of Old Orchard Beach, Saco, Biddeford, Scarborough, Wells, Kennebunk, Sanford, Bangor, and Palmyra, Maine.


This website started in 1996 and is updated, edited, and added to daily. (NOTE do keep in mind since the April 10, 2015 murder of my children, this site is no longer updated daily, and very few new writing articles are added any more - since 2015 updates have been about weekly and usually are about the continued ongoing investigation into the murder of my family.) 

As of 2021 it has more than 10,000 pages. However, only around 2,000 pages are indexed by search engines (robot blockers and/or passwords, prevent the rest from being findable by Google/Bing/Yahoo/etc.). Around 8,000 pages can only be accessed by clicking on direct links to them. The links are found on other pages on this site. Confusing? Perhaps. But whenever one of those difficult to find 8,000 pages gets traffic, I know that you are VERY dedicated in reading what I wrote or doing some stalker level digging to reach those search engine inaccessible pages and I'd rather not waste my time writing stuff for uninterested parties, plus it's fascinating to see how deep some people are willing dig to find every last word I wrote.

I published my first novel in 1978. Since then I have published 138 novels, 30 non-fiction books, 2,000+ short stories, a dozen plays, a few comic book scripts for Disney's Uncle Scrooge and Donald Duck comics, a few dozen novellas, and 10,000+ non-fiction articles.

I am asexual and famous for 4 decades of writing 100% sexless stories, laced in extreme blood-gore-and-violence. But in spite of that, in recent years, most people classify me as an Erotica author. I don't know why, as I've never written Erotica or even any sex scenes, and as I am a nun, raised as such from the age of 3, I wouldn't even know how to write sex or Erotica. If you came here looking for sex, BDSM, Erotica, or Dominatrix's, please return to whomever sent you and tell them to burn in Hell where their immoral ass belongs. Also, do tell me their name so I can put a curse on them, so they will never enjoy sex ever again, to punish them for spreading lies about me and connecting my name to anything related to sex at all. I find sex vile and despicable and want no part of your perverse degradation near me.

All of my fiction works are about Alien Elf Wizards who live in Old Orchard Beach, Maine. All of my non-fiction works are about the history of Maine, it's Gypsy Clans, and most especially Old Orchard Beach the town which was settled and founded by my family.

Most of these pages answer reader questions on the worldbuilding, character creating, plotting, writing, editing, and publishing process of my work. 

Others are on the history of my people, The Gypsies of Maine, our culture, our lifestyle, our cars, and our religion.

The rest of the pages are daily updates of the terrorist attacks by Maine's White Supremacists on my non-white family, including updates of the FBI investigation of the April 10, 2015 murder of my children.




IMPORTANT UPDATE:

Due to the murder of my family and the resulting court cases, police investigations, and FBI investigations, I no longer have time to daily update this website.

Likewise ALL novel, short story, and article writing projects are on hiatus.

All book releases, book signings, workshops, and convention appearances for 2015 (and unknown amount of time after) are on hold while the murder investigation of my family is ongoing.

Writing advice for the worldbuilding, character creation, and other writing how to articles are on hold.

From now on, the bulk of updates here will be about the investigation into the murder of my family.

No, NOT just THIS author website, not JUST the EelKat pename, not just self published books: ALL 15 (fifteen) of my penames are on hiatus, that includes traditional published books as well, newspaper reporting jobs, editing jobs, my work for Harlequin Romance Novels, my work for Disney... EVERYTHING is on hiatus. Every publishing house I work for, every series I write, every penname I write under: they are ALL on hiatus, ALL projects.

There is NOTHING being published under ANY penname, not for ANY series, not for ANY publisher, from 2015 onward. EVERYTHING is on hold due to the murder of my family. I do not know when or even if, any of the projects will be restarted or finished.

Yes, BOTH the magazines I owned are indefinitely shut down because of this as well, with no plans for either magazine to return. The publishing house I own is also closed to submissions from now on, we will no longer be publishing anything. It is unlikely we will reopen the publishing house either.

All book signing tours, workshops, letures, PAX events, ComicCon events, carnival/festival/state fair/car show events are also canceled. I will not be attending ANY of them. If a venue still has my name listed as a guest/speaker/etc it is because they've not yet removed it. I WILL NOT be there, no matter where it is! 

EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, IS CANCELED!

The ONLY thing continuing from this point on, is THIS website, where I'll post updates on the murder investigation, hopefully every week, but, you know how it is when 10 members of your family are beheaded, it's kind of difficult to have a schedule for anything anymore.

April 10, 2015 my 12 children were kidnapped,
from 146 Portland Ave. Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

May 15, 2015, ten of their heads were nailed to my door.

Do you have information?

FBI Agent Andy Drewer out of the 
Portland, Maine FBI office is in charge of the case.

If you have information about the April 10, 2015 murder of my family 
or any of the attacks on our home and relatives, give it to him not me.
He can be reached @ +1-(207)-774-9322 









Quaraun the Insane:
Zebulon's Captive:
"Sold! To Zebulon, for two million dollars."



Quaraun the Insane:
Zebulon's Captive:
"Sold! To Zebulon, for two million dollars."

Quaraun squeezed his eyes shut tight, as if that would hide him from the staring eyes of the Humans in the crowd.

Confusion, shame, and humiliation filled his thoughts.

The poor Elf stood naked, save the collar on his neck and the shackles on his wrists and ankles. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he listened to the auctioneer shouting words he didn't understand. There was no one in the crowd, speaking a language Quaraun could recognized.

The frightened Elf trembled in fear as the Humans in the crowd began shouting. He was not fully certain what was happening, but it was apparent that he was being sold into slavery. Beyond that, there was nothing he could determine for sure what else was going on.

Bidders were allowed to come up front to get a closer look at him. They poked and prodded him. One grabbed him by his balls and spent a moment carefully squeezing each testicle, feeling their size and shape. Quaraun bit his lip and tried to ignore the intense sense of violation he felt, be handled like this in front of so many people. That one paid more attention to him then the others. He argued with the auctioneer.  

The auctioneer pull out a stack of papers. Several of the bidders took turns reading the paperwork. The man whom had grabbed him before, took a firm hold of his balls again, then examined his penis, noting the damage, pointing out the scars, then pulling the foreskin back and carefully studying the glanshead. 

Quaraun didn't know why they were doing this to him. He was terrified. The man yelled at the auctioneer while pointing t Quaraun's scars. Quaraun had long been ashamed of his scars. He hated being naked. He hated letting any one see his scars. He trusted Unicorn and GhoulSpawn and he had trouble even letting them seeing him naked.

He wanted to run.

He wanted to hide.

But the men with guns. The men with tasers. The men with the hard metal nightsticks.

They were all around.



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One at every corner.

One at every door.

Several stood between him and the crowd.

He'd tried running away before. He remembered those men.

They always dressed the same.

Viscous men in blue uniforms.

No matter where they were. They always acted the same.

He didn't know who or what they were. Soldiers of some sort. Every Human village had them.

Last time he ran, the armed men ran after him. They beat him. They tased him.

He'd seen others run. He had run towards a door. Most did. But some ran towards the crowd. Those they shot with the guns. Those Elves died.

Humans were the worst monsters he'd ever encountered. And these Humans, in this time, in this future, they were the worst Humans he'd ever known.

Quaraun desperately wanted to run, but he also wanted to live. Thee memory of other Elves gunned down by the viscous men in blue, kept the frightened Elf standing still, more scared to move, then he was to run.







Quaraun looked away from the blue uniformed beasts and back to the men arguing with the auctioneer. Something in the paperwork had made them angry. There were Humans to all sides of him. Yelling and screaming and waving their hands in the air.

There were too many bright lights, too many sounds, too many smells, too many people, too much commotion.

Quaraun's senses were hyper stimulated. He wanted to scream and make them all go away. His eyes darted towards the men with the guns. They'd kill him if he did, so he remained silent.

Soon the men were shouting at one another, the auctioneer pointing back and forth to each in turn, and shouting with them. One by one the bidders left and went back to the crowd, until only two men remained. The man who had grabbed him by the balls was viciously arguing with he last competitor. 

Though he could not tell what they were saying, Quaraun could tell by how excited the auctioneer had become, and how angry the two men were becoming, and also by the shocked gasps from the crowd, that the bidding price had gotten very high. It was clear from the reactions of every one in the room, that no Elf had ever been sold for the price this bid had reached.

Two very wealthy men were fighting for him.

It appeared that the man whom had grabbed his balls, was somebody famous. A celebrity of some sort, by the way every one else treated him. The auctioneer was excitedly going back and forth between the two men, egging them on into their bitter battle over who would win the Elf before them.

"Two million," the man said calmly. Smugly. He wasn't shouting any more. He knew he had just won.

"Two mill..." The auctioneer stammered, not sure he had heard correctly. "Two? Two? Million?"

The man nodded.

"Two million," he repeated in a cold steadfast voice.

"Two Million!" The auctioneer shouted.

The crowd gasped in unison and fell silent.

Quaraun had clue what 'two million' meant, but it meant a lot. He could see that in the look of awe and amazement on every face in the crowd.

The auctioneer looked at the other bidder. The bidder shook his head and sat back down.

The auctioneer pointed to the first man, the man whom had spent so much time examining his genitals.

"Sold! To Zebulon, for two million dollars."

The next thing Quaraun knew, the men who had dragged him to the stage, were beside him once again,. One grabbed the chains leading to his collar and tugged on them, while the other man nudged him with a nightstick. Quaraun obediently went with them, off the stage and back to the room he had previously been in.

As had been done to him earlier, other Elves were being undressed and bathed and lined up for their turn to be sold. He felt a tug on the chains and realized he'd stopped walking to watch the other Elves. He again followed the men. They took him back to where he'd been undressed, then removed the shackles from his ankles and wrists, long enough to allow him to ree-dress himself.

Once he had put his cloths back on, the shackles were returned to his arms and legs, and again they lead him away by the chains. This time he was taken to a room, where other Elves, already sold before him, were lined up, their chains attached to rings on the wall. Some had chains long enough to allow them to sit on the floor, but most had chains too short and were forced to stand. The two men unlocked an empty ring and hooked Quaraun's chains to it, then left, leaving him alone with the other Elves whom had just been sold.

Quaraun stared around the room at the many faces. Elves of every race, every class. 

Dark Elves. 

Wood Elves. 

Mountain Elves. 

Grey Elves.

A few Silver Elves. 

Lots of Common Elves. 

Young Elves. 

Old Elves. 

Males Elves. 

Females Elves. 

Children. 

Mothers crying for their babies.

Babies being sold as pets.

Couples, separated and crying for each other.

Many were sick. 

Some looked near starved. 

Some were bloody from having recently been wiped. 

Some were bruised. 

A few had broken limbs.

Some looked like they were dying.

The Elves were being sold with no regard for families units.

Families were being torn apart, each member sold to different owners.

There was nothing but pain and suffering every where he looked.

Quaraun noted that he alone, appeared to be the only aristocrat in the group. He was certainly the only Northern Elf. And the palest of what few white skinned Elves their were. He also noticed that it was not at random, that some Elves had longer chains and were allowed to sit.

The Elves with long chains, like him, were calm and docile, not making a fuss, and sitting quietly awaiting their fate. The Elves with shorter chains, forced to stand, were also the Elves that were wiped and bruised and whenever a Human guard walked past them, they lunged at them, viciously. They were on short chains to prevent them the ability to grab the Humans and hurt them. From the amount of scars on the bodies of these Elves, it appeared they'd seen many a slave auction now. Bought and sold dozens of times. Snapping and clawing like wild animals, Quaraun wondered how long they'd been in slavery. How long did it take for a calm quiet Elf to turn into a snarling creature like that?

Quaraun watched and waited, wondering what would happen. He knew he'd been sold to the man the auctioneer had called Zebulon, but what he was supposed to do next, he did not know.



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One by one Humans were lead out to the room. The guard would unchain the Elf or Elves the Human had won and hand them over to their new masters. As the auction continued, more Elves were brought out to this back room to await being taken away by their new masters.

Quaraun waited for what seemed like hours, before Zebulon came out back here to take him. When Zebulon arrived, he had several other men with him. Many Elves were unchained and each man took two Elves, Quaraun being among them. Zebulon had bought nearly 2 dozen of the Elves, in addition to Quaraun.

Quaraun now found himself herded into the back of a large truck. With one long, single chain, connecting all of the Elves together. The cargo truck had no windows, and only it's roll up door, on the back. As the Elves were pushed up into the truck, Zebulon, called one of his men over. 

Moments later the man was unlocking Quaraun's chains. While the other Elves remained, connected, their chained all attached to the one large chain, Quaraun was now separated from the others. The Human pushed Quaraun forward, up the ramp and on to the truck. At the front was a row of prison bars, forming a cage. The man pointed to the open door of the cell. Quaraun stood and stared at it, wondering why he was being separated from the other Elves.

When all the Elves were on board, Zebulon himself came onto the truck. The Humans talked. Zebulon pointed to each Elf individually, studying papers as he did, and giving his men orders. When he came to Quaraun, he talked to his men for much longer, and much sterner commands were given. Quaraun knew nothing of this language they spoke and was unable to determine what it was they were saying about him.

-------------

"I don't want him getting damaged in transit," Zebulon commanded to the men on the truck. "I paid an arm and a leg get the Snow Elf. This is an endangered species. These Northern Elves almost never come up on the market. I've been trying to get my hands on a white Elf for years."

-------------







The men looked scared of Zebulon, this frightened Quaraun. All Humans were monsters, but when one Human was scared of another... that Human was always the worst monster of all. Following the instructions they were given, the men put Quaraun in the cage and then shackled his chais to the rings on the wall. This made him feel very trapped. Very uncomfortable. and very singled out from the others. The other other Elves were all just sitting in a pile on the floor in the center of the truck. Quaraun was confused and frightened by what was going on. He didn't like being singled out. He didn't like being separated from the group. He wanted to be with the other Elves. These Humans scared him.

Soon the Humans climbed off the truck, and shut the door. With no lights and no windows, it was very black inside the truck now. Most of the Elves were night blind and could not see. Quaraun, being a Moon Elf, was nocturnal, his eyes better suited to seeing through the darkness then seeing in light of day. He could see the frightened Elves huddling together, as the truck's engines roared to life, and with a jolt, started moving. It was soon, obvious, why it was they had chained Quaraun firmly to the wall.

The box truck was made for transporting cargo, not living beings. The smooth metal floor, made it easy to slide boxes across it's surface, but difficult to stand on. At first the Elves tried to stand, but the swaying of the truck and the bumps in the road, sent them tumbling to the floor. Every bump in the road, jolted the Elves. Being all chained together, hen one fell and was sent sliding across the floor, the others went with them.

The truck was small, and there were far too many Elves for the space they were in. Every turn sent them falling and sliding. It was a long trip they were going on and many were be badly bruised by the time they reached their destination. Some became car sick and vomited. Few had ever been in a truck before and were panicked over this strange moving box they'd been locked in.

As the journey continued, and the hours went by, Quaraun was glad he'd been separated from the others and chained to the wall, and not sliding around in vomit and piss, being banged up and bruised with the others. There was no sleep for any of the Elves that night, on the long drive from the auction house to Zebulon's Elf Breeding Farm.