Happy 2026!
It is our 30th anniversary here at Space Dock 13!
On the web since 1996!
You have encountered an extremely old website that continues to exist in old web ways, the same way it has done for now three decades.
In spite of being now 30 years old this year, started in 1996, it is still heavily active and old pages updated daily, new pages added daily, still now in 2026. All hand written, all hand coded (no AI), all by me, same as it ever was.
We Still Exist: The Old Web Did Not Go Away, You Just Forgot How To Find Us
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This site was NOT designed for mobile devices (as they had not been invented yet when I created it) thus this site looks best on a computer, at 1280x768 or above. |
This is a very old website created in 1996, so, yes, javascript is needed for the site to work as it should. If things don't function, you may need to update javascript drivers on your device |
This site tries to be mobile friendly but it's been online since 1996, so old pages may not load right on mobile devices, and as this site has had pages added near daily for 30 years there are now over 20k pages here. |
Having started out in life as a GeoCities site, this site contains glitter, bright colours, blinkies, moving gifs, and other things the old web was known for. |

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

Please Note: The Quaraun Series Is Rated M18+ and you must be 18 or older to buy it.
Most pages on EelKat.com are about writing Yaoi, and thus probably is NSFW; reader discretion is advised.
Why is the Quaraun Series Rated M18+?

The Summoner of Darkness is
an Epic Length Novel of more than 300,000 words
(500+ paperback pages)
This chapter is...
Word count: 2,776
or
9 paperback pages.

<<<Previous Chapter: Introducing GhoulSpawn
~o0o~ Chapter 2 ~o0o~
A group of Thullid cultists slithered and slunk their way through the rubble. They spoke to one another in hush whispers of their native Demon tongue with its squishy sounding words made up mostly of 'L's, 'i's, and break clattering clicks.
The squid headed cultists in their long orange robes, contrasting with the brilliant purple tentacles, dragged between them another Thullid, dressed in vivid pink robes embroidered with glittering bubblegum pink jelly fish - the distinctive regalia of a Di'Jinn priest, worshiper of The Sacred Pink Jelly Fish.
The orange robed cultists were young, as could be told by their vividly purple hued tentacles, glistening with slick slime. The pink robed priest they dragged with them was exceedingly ancient, his tentacles aged to a dull dusty pink, dry and wrinkled, no longer protected by their slime coat that had long since worn away.
The cultists chattered excitedly about the coming of change and good fortune, but the old priest coward between them in fear. The Cult of the Sacred Pink Jelly Fish had search high and low for the last of Her Ladyship's disciples. Long feared dead, ZooLock the Great had finally been found.
For centuries ZooLock had stood as the personal bodyguard of a tiny pink jelly fish, kept imprisoned in a glass bowl, where she was worshiped by Demons from all points of the galaxy.
For centuries the tiny pink jelly fish had begged for her freedom, but trapped she was in a tiny glass bowl.
Then the Humans came, like a plague upon the planet the Humans spread quickly and with them they brought a God of blood, lust and war. A God who murdered his only son, then demanded the Humans eat his flesh and blood every week, over and over again for centuries. An angry God who hated Demons and demanded the Humans slaughter them all.
And so the reign of Demons on Earth fell, as the Humans rose to power. One by one the Demon temples were shattered and the priests murdered.
When only one temple remained, The Temple of the Di'Jinn, the Thullids had gone en masse, to protect their Goddess, but their numbers were too few, and the like so many before them, the Di'Jin priests were slaughtered...
...save one...
ZooLock.
A plain simple priest with only one job: stand beside the Pink Jelly Fish and make sure no one touches her glass bowl. A lonely job he did for centuries.
When the Human Army attacked, ZooLock grabbed the bowl and ran into the desert, never to be seen again. Seen by many as a coward, news soon spread to Demon ears, of the horror of what ZooLock had done...
...Desperate to save Her Ladyship, ZooLock did the unthinkable and implanted the Sacred Pink Jelly Fish inside the body of an Elf. The only Thullid never implanted, now lived inside a host, like the rest.
ZooLock had done what he had sworn to do... protect the Goddess at any cost. And thus he became known as ZooLock the Great, the only Demon brave enough to save Her Ladyship from the onslaught of the Humans and their Demon murdering ways.
But that was nearly 500 years ago, and ZooLock now found himself in chains, dragged a long by members of a new religion. A group calling themselves The Cult of the Sacred Pink Jelly Fish.
The ancient priest had no strength to fight his captors, and was dragged along with chains on his arms and legs, his once purple tentacles, now faded to a dull mauve, hung limp before him.
In case you didn't know, I'm a costume designer with a degree in theatrical dressmaking and fashion design. As such, the costumes you see me making for my CosPlays of the Quaraun series characters are fully designed from the ground up by me. Meaning, not only do I design and make the patterns, but I also design and have custom made fabrics.
Below is the fabric I designed for CosPlaying ZooLock...
ZooLock knew not what the cultists had in mind for him, and his pleco pupiled fish eyes searched desperately for any means of escape.
At last they stopped, standing before the remains of a once large stone church, that was now nothing but broken up bits of wall scattered about. The leader of the cultists, took their prisoner and stood staring up at one particularly dangerous looking stone wall.
"It'll fall over at any minute," ZooLock said in his timid frightened voice.
"You'll be safe here," the squid headed Elder said to his chained and shackled prisoner.
"Safe?" ZooLock squealed as he looked around the vast ruins. "How is this safe? Humans have razed this place. They'll be back..."
"They won't come back. Their army has moved on."
The cult elder took ZooLock's chains and secured them to a stone wall.
"What are you doing?" The frightened Di'Jinn priest asked.
"You are the last of the Di'Jinn. Saved from Her wrath only because you are a coward. When death came for the rest, you had already fled."
"Her Ladyship was protecting the horses. You know how She loves horses. You should not have killed Her horses. You should not have angered Her."
"She likes you."
"She hates me."
"She won't kill you."
"Only because I did not help you kill Her horses."
"She'll be here soon."
"What?" ZooLock looked around franticly, curling his tentacles nervously as he did. "She's here?"
"You'll not have long to wait."
"Wait for what? What is going on?"
"If you live, you will lead Her to us."
"If I live? What do you mean? What is going on?"
"Her Ladyship is pregnant."
"Pregnant? That is not possible. I put her in a male Elf."
The fabric I designed for the Demon Cultists...
"You must protect the eggs until the time of hatching."
"How do I do that?"
"You'll think of something."
"But She does not like me! I am a Di'Jinn. She killed us all! I am the last Di'Jinn. You are right, I lived because I am a coward. She'll kill me soon as She sees me!"
"She won't kill a wounded animal."
"I am not wonded."
"That is easily fixed."
Before the ancient Demon priest had time to respond the other Demons pushed the stone wall over on top of him.
The squid-headed beasts quickly made their way back to the road, leaving old ZooLock crushed and injured, buried beneath the rubble.
Furry paws and glistening eyes watched from the shadows, keeping notes on everything they saw and heard.
~o0o~
Meanwhile, in a coastal fishing village not far away, there sat a massive lighthouse, built out of smooth black river stones. Vastly bigger on the inside, then it's outward appearance, the tower housed a band of half-Elf thieves, who fancied themselves wizards, though in truth, they were barely mages. This band of magic wielding thieves was lead by an ancient old, one armed half-Elf, whom called himself HellBorne the Evil.
"We've found him!" HellBorne said excitedly as he ran into the room.
The other half-Elves stopped what they were doing to listen to what their leader had to say.
"The Darkness is upon us," the ancient one armed Half-Elf continued. "We must begin preparations. Every thing must be ready before he arrives."
HellBorne spent the next hour explaining in great detail what the Darkness was, why it was imperative they welcome it, and what must be done to prepare for it's arrival.
HellBorne began listing off the items he needed and barking out orders, giving each of the other half-Elves their instructions on what to get.
One by one the half Elves scurried off to carry out their orders.

All but one.
HellBorne looked across the room. GhoulSpawn, was once again not following orders. The Sun Elf was sitting in the corner with his nose in a book.
A pair of gleaming green eyes peered through the window, watching the scene unfold. Whiskers twitched as tiny grey paws took notes of what they saw.
"GhoulSpawn!" HellBorne yelled angrily.
"What?" The young Sun Elf jumped from his seat, looking around and wondering which way to run. The poor half Elf was scared of everything and the slightest sound sent his heart racing in terror.
"I need more sheep," HellBorne said. "Go get me more sheep."
"Sheep?" GhoulSpawn had not been paying attention to anything the old half Elf had said to him and only heard this last part, commanding him to get sheep. "Why do you need sheep?"
"The Darkness is upon us!"
"The Darkness?"
"Haven't you been listening to me?"
"Uhm... I... I was reading."
"You and your books."
"I want to learn..."
"You don't learn by reading. You learn by doing."
"I'm not good at doing... uhm... anything," GhoulSpawn admitted.
HellBorne grabbed the book away from GhoulSpawn and threw it across the room.
"I said, go get me more sheep!"
"Sheep?"
"Yes! Sheep!"
"Why?"
"I've a sacrifice to prepare!"
"Sacrifice? With blood?"
"Of course with blood."
"Can't you do a non blood sacrifice?"
"You whimpering pussy! The Darkness is coming and we need blood to bring it closer! Before it gets out of range."
"But I don't like killing things..."
"You don't like killing? What kind of a wizard are you?"
"Not an evil one. My father..."
"You're father was one of the greatest wizards of all time."
"He was evil."
GhoulSpawn was ashamed of the things his father had done.
"How did a snivelling coward like you come from the loins of a great sorcerer like him?"
"My mother was an Elf. I was raised with her people, not his. Elves are mostly peaceful."
"Only to other Elves. What Elf ever treated a half-Elf with respect and dignity?"
"We don't have to kill things to..."
"GhoulSpawn, you are young. You haven't seen enough of the world to know how shitty it treats us half-Elves. You are still innocent to the ways of the world and it's hatred for our kind. But that's going to end soon. The Darkness will be here soon, and with it, our salvation."
"But do we have to kill sheep?"
"The sheep make way for the sacrifices."
"Aren't the sheep the sacrifices?"
"You really weren't listening to anything I said were you?"
"I guess not."
"The ritual takes seven days to complete. We need seven sacrifices, one each night for seven days. The sheep blood is to purify the tools that we will use to kill the sacrifices."
"But..."
"GO!"
GhoulSpawn quickly scurried out of the room. A couple of the other half-Elves chided him, but he didn't stick around long enough to hear what they had said. While living with HellBorne wasn't ideal, at least GhoulSpawn was no longer alone.
HellBorne was wrong. GhoulSpawn did know far too well, the hatred the world had for half-Elves. He'd grown up with High Elves. And they never let him forget, he wasn't worthy to be alive. From the time he was old enough to walk, his days were spent running from bullies. Constantly beaten and publicly humiliated, the young half-Elf now live in mortal terror of every shadow.
Loneliness was a major issue for the Sun Elf. It was the thing that kept him working for HellBorne. GhoulSpawn had no friends. His family, his people, his village were dead. He had a few wives here and there, but he admittedly didn't love any of them and had a difficult time being faithful to any one.
GhoulSpawn had a wife in nearly every town he'd ever walked through, most of which he never returned to, many of which he'd left to raise alone children he didn't even know he had. A bigger problem for GhoulSpawn was the trail of pregnant prostitutes he left behind every where he went.
While he hated being alone, he also shied away from any sort of commitment. The more commitment a situation required, the faster he ran away from it and thus GhoulSpawn found himself bedding every female he meet within a few hours of meeting her, then disappearing from her life within a week of meeting her.
GhoulSpawn had come across the one armed half-Elf HellBorne a few months ago. HellBorne had opened his home up to other half-Elves and now quite a large number of half-Elves were living with the ancient wizard, doing his bidding in exchange for free room and board and protection from the Elves and Humans who hunted half-Elves.
The half-Elves living with HellBorne had all been treated poorly by Elves and Humans alike and all of them had grown bitter and vengeful and thus were quick to help HellBorne in his questionable experiments and rituals.
GhoulSpawn had questioned HellBorne many times and each time was meet with the wrong side of HellBorne's frightful temper. But still, GhoulSpawn stayed because he was accepted by the half-Elves here and had not found acceptance among Elves or Humans, was too scatterbrained and flighty to raise a family of his own and could not bear to live alone.
Escaping to the outdoors to run errands for HellBorne gave GhoulSpawn the breathing room he needed.
GhoulSpawn soon found himself sitting alone on a rock in a field, watching a herd of sheep, waiting for the lazy Human shepherd to fall asleep and hoping he could find an excuse for coming back without any sheep. His reached into his pocket and pulled out a big red arm chair to sit in.
GhoulSpawn wished he could set up a TV here, but it was the 1400s and electricity had not yet been invented. He tried to remember not to have items from the future that would be questioned by others. This arm chair was definitely out of its time period, but a chair was a chair and he could at least explain it should someone question it. And it was more comfortable than a rock.
Of course, if anyone did question the chair, their more probable question would have been how the hell did he get it all the way out here in the middle of a field, but GhoulSpawn hadn't thought of that. He could of course tell them the truth, that he was a wizard and was wearing a coat that was lined with dozens of pockets, each pocket bigger on the inside then the outside with plenty of room to carry a few cities worth of houses around with him.
But GhoulSpawn was not a member of the Guild which meant he was practicing magic illegally and should any one ask to see his papers, he had none to give and would be quickly tossed in a dungeon and his coat of many pockets filled with items from the future confiscated and burned.
GhoulSpawn was not known for thinking logically of such things so did not hide the fact that he was a wizard from any one.
And so, there GhoulSpawn sat in a big red arm chair, in the middle of a field of sheep, his hair and eyes glowing a blinding shade of yellow, wondering if there was a way for him to stay in the future permanently never again having to return back here to his own time, wishing he was in the 1970s watching Saturday morning cartoons, and pulling dozens of books out of the pockets of his dark green velvet coat, trying to decide which book he should read next, in a time period before books were invented.
Reading took his mind off HellBorne and his father and the shitty way Elves and Humans treated him.
GhoulSpawn worried that HellBorne would tell the others that his father was a Chaos Demon and not a Human as everyone believed. All of the other half Elves were half Human.

In addition to being the only half Demon among them, he was also the only one who had High Elf blood. The others were various races of Common, Wild, or Feral Elves, most of them Wood Elves. GhoulSpawn's spaced out day dreamer attitude was attributed to his being the bastard of an aristocratic.
The other half Elves picked on GhoulSpawn because HellBorne coddled him, giving him assignments that were easy and allowing him to sit around doing nothing. Most of the half Elves could neither read nor write, and it being a century before Gutenberg invented the printing press, they did not know what those strange blocks of paper squished between boards were, that GhoulSpawn was constantly carrying around and so did not understand why GhoulSpawn was allowed to sit all day doing nothing but staring at squares of paper.
GhoulSpawn found a book to read and soon the absent minded half-Elf forgot about sheep and was lost in trying to translate an orange spined spell book he'd brought back from the future: Unearthed Arcana by Gary Gygax.
A pair of yellow eyes peered out from the bushes at the edge of the pasture. Whiskers twitched and tail stood tall as small black paws jotted down more notes.
<<< Previous Chapter: Introducing GhoulSpawn
Next Chapter: EelKat and The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin >>>

Back from the dead, once again with Unicorn in tow, and now with the Thullid priest ZooLock his prisoner shackled in chains, Quaraun is headed back to The Screaming Unicorn Tavern in Old Orchard Beach, but finds himself cursed with endless bad luck, as one thing after another drops out of the sky in his path.
Highwaymen, hellhounds, a turtle as big as a house, fire breathing butterflies, a train station from the 20th century, and a strange glow-in-the-dark demonic wizard with pockets full of sheep, who sits in a red armchair in poppy field in the 1400s reading 1980s spellbooks books by Gary Gaygax.
Quaraun goes head to head against The Gremlin, a time traveling wizard from the future who refuses to allow the Pink Necromancer back into Old Orchard Beach, where since his last visit, an evil Sorcerer named HellBorne has erected a giant cursed lighthouse known as The Black Tower.
ZooLock however has other plans, and while 4 rival wizards tear up the town in a wizard's duel, the Squid Headed Aliens From Neptune's Moon and their armies of JellyFish worshiping cultists arrive in town to preform a ritual that will unleash an Elder Brain Chaos Demon, known as The Sacred Pink JellyFish on the world. Too bad they didn't know she was already in town.
NOTE: Most of this novel will be available as free to read online.
(The End?)
The Summoner of Darkness is the first time The Gremlin, EelKat, Lyxiana, Bela, and Spriggan (all characters from the original 1978 edition of Friends Are Forever, Volume 1 of The Twighlight Manor Series) make appearances in The Quaraun series.
While most of the Quaraun series is written with Quaraun as the only point of view character, EelKat, the primary point of view character of the Twighlight Manor series, alternates with Quaraun as a point of view character in Summoner of Darkness.
The novel tells 2 stories side by side, with all odd numbered chapters telling Quaraun's version of the story in the 1400s, and all even numbered chapters being written as letters from EelKat in the 1980s to her sister Lynxian.
EelKat is a 4th wall meta breaking narrator.

This is the first time GhoulSpawn appears using the name GhoulSpawn. In previous volumes he was using the name Glinta instead.
In the Twighlight Manor series he is known as The Gremlin.
Quaraun's teenaged lover GhoulSpawn is a "natural born" Sorcerer. He is a half-Elf/half Demon.
GhoulSpawn's father was an evil Demon who commanded an army of Ghouls. Because of this, he was known simply as "The Ghoul".
GhoulSpawn's mother was a Sun Elf whom had fallen in love with The Ghoul, but was forbidden by her family to have contact with him. She in turn ran away with her Demon lover, thus causing a war between Elves and Demons.
The Sun Elves tell a story of how their Princess was kidnapped and raped by the Ghoul, thus she gave birth to the Spawn of the Ghoul. Though his mother named him Glinta, she died while he was still very young, and his Elven kin, took to calling him GhoulSpawn as a way to brand him not one of them.
GhoulSpawn is an interdimensional time traveller, because he is unable to remain in any one time, place or dimension long, because he was born in the Hell Dimension, which exists outside of the realm of time and space as we know it. The Ghoul tried to escape the Sun Elves by going to the distant future (1974) and leaving his half-Elf son and the boy's mother there to live among a band of LSD addicted hippie Humans whom drove a 1974 AMC Gremlin.
The Sun-Elves eventually found their missing she-Elf and brought her back to the 1400s where she belonged, but she refused to leave her half-Demon son behind.
After his mother's death, GhoulSpawn was made a servant to his High Elf step-father and full blooded Elf step siblings, all of whom abused him and treated him like a slave. He grew up constantly being told he, because he was only a half-Elf, was unloved and unwanted and should have been killed at birth, resulting in the very low self esteem he has.
Neither Demons nor half-Elves are considered welcomed members of society, both being forced to live in small tribal groups on the outskirts of civilization. Both are often stoned to death or hung if they dare set foot in a city.
GhoulSpawn being both a Demon and a half-Elf is doubly mistreated by the majority of the world's population. He takes to travelling with Quaraun because Quaraun simply accepts GhoulSpawn as he is and is not bothered by being seen in the company of either a Demon or a half-Elf.
There are several instances when people try to bully GhoulSpawn and Quaraun (a high ranking full-blooded aristocratic High Elf) is quick to stand up for him, protecting and defending the half-Elf. Quaraun is often classified by other Elves as "insane" simply because he is willing to be friends with a half-Elf.
GhoulSpawn has a speech impediment which lessens when he is relaxed and grows worse the more nervous or frightened he becomes.
Around calm laid back characters like Quaraun, GhoulSpawn speaks without difficulty. However around domineering, headstrong, or bullying characters such as Unicorn or HellBorne, GhoulSpawn develops a stutter, making it difficult for him the get to the end of a sentence.
Because he is a Demon, GhoulSpawn was born with natural magical abilities, making him a rare "natural born wizard" or sorcerer.
GhoulSpawn is typical of a Sorcerer in the Quaraun series, in that he has Demon blood, was thus born with a Demon's natural ability to cast magic on some levels, has taking to self-teaching himself how to control the magic powers he was born with, is outcast from society because of his link to Demons, and is generally not well thought of, even though he is not in any way evil, and is in fact the only part of the cast who could be considered anything close to being a Hero.
Being a time traveller, there are times when Quaraun encounteres both GhoulSpawn and his future counterpart Gremlin in the same novel.
This is the first novel in the series to feature multiple versions of GhoulSpawn in a single novel.
GhoulSpawn remains one of the most hated and most loved characters in the series. People who dislike him, absolutely despise him and have gone so far as to request I remove his character from the series entirely. While people who love him, often cite him as their favourite character and often request I add him into more stories more often.
For the people who don't like him, I'm sorry, but he remains one of my favourite characters of the series and he's not going anywhere.
For the people who want to see more of him: there are plans to make changes to several stories in the series to include him in the future editions, more often.
You can find out more about GhoulSpawn here:

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This novel was originally written in: 2014 - 2016
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.
>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.
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There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.