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. |
The Summoner of Darkness:
The Return of ZooLock
(yaoi free to read online)
f you are here looking for aliens, ufos, demons, cryptids, haunted cars, curses, Etiole, the wild man of old orchard beach, the goldeneagle car, the white monkey, or any of that other weird bullshit, you want this video:
...and after that video, you want these ones:
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 Wendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again.Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title. List of the published titles still in print: The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series What the series is about, for those new here: |
If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters:
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My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.
As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.
There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.
Coming soon (Nov/Dec 2026)... patterns for my slow stitched embroidery:
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The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.
There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.
I shouldn't have to say this, but people keep contacting me, so apparently I do:
- No, I do not believe in aliens. Stop contacting me to ask for alien information. If you believe in aliens, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, my car is not haunted. I've debunked that rumour many times now. . Stop contacting me to ask for haunted car information. If you believe in haunted cars, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, I am not connected to Stephen King. I didn't even know who he was until you idiots started contacting me asking about him. I had to look him up on Google to find out what you were even talking about! If you have questions about Stephen King, go contact him and ask him. I'm not him. I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I've never read one of his books. I've never seen one of his movies. I can't figure out why you people are even coming to me to ask about him in the first place!
- If someone told you I believe in aliens, if someone told you my car was haunted, if someone told you I was connected to Stephen King, you NEED to contact the FBI agent in charge of my son's murder investigation and TELL HIM WHO it was who told ou, exactly WHAT it was they said, HOW they contacted you, WHERE they contacted you... because it is a KNOWN FACT that my son's murderer is the one who started all these slanderous alien, haunted car, Stephen King rumours, and the FBI is trying to catch her.
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Do you know who this woman is?
On August 8, 2013 she drove a backhoe over my house. On November 14, 2013 she arrived at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me with a golf club and murdered my son. One June 24, 2016, days after my first attempts to walk again, she attacked me with a shopping cart at Scarborough, Walmart, reinjuring the Nov 14, 2013 injury.
She crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet id-ed the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club.
Complete details of EVERYTHING she did is on this page here.
 The golf club woman who called herself Clair as she looked November 14, 2013. Her hair is a weird chin leangth pageboy (very Medival style cut) platinum blonde with wide brown/black dyed stripes in it (like a reverse of Lily Munster, but the stripes are several, almost like a zebra). I am 5'6" and she was a LOT taller then me, like closer to the height of a man; she had thin lips like a man, and large nose like a man... she COULD have been a man disguised as a woman, given the ease with which she severed my spine....she's is a LOT stronger then is typical for a woman). She was wearing a chambre blue denim "blazer jacket over shirt" and a button up mens shirt (possibly flannel) and blue jeans. The bulk of her yelling was focused on accusing me of being transgender, even while ripping my baby out of my 8 month pregnant belly and bashing his head in with a golf club. |
 The Claire woman as she looked during her shoping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart June 2016, the attack with left me paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Her hair was dyed dark red, and she drove away in a gold Volvo 240 Station Wagon of a late 1980s/early1990s model, with a "458" on the lisnce plate.... If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
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If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Good god! We just found out about yet another slanderous rumour this woman has been spreading? When does it end? How many more of these things are out there?
Video explains what else she's done ...
If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
 If you encounter anyone claiming my car is haunted, demon possessed, or somehow connected to Stephen King please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
If you encounter anyone claiming I believe in aliens or was an alien abducttee, please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.  If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
I am sick and tired of people not giving a shit that my son was murdered!
I am sick and tired of jackasses making up rumours and lies about me and my car, calling me an alien abductee and my car haunted, just to try to cover up my son's murder!
The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane
Volume 11 of 130
The Summoner of Darkness:
Chapter 7
The Return of ZooLock
(yaoi free to read online)
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: 4,249
or
13 paperback pages.
The Summoner of Darkness:
The Return of ZooLock
(yaoi free to read online)
<<< Previous Chapter: HellBorne and The Missing Sacrificial Sheep
~o0o~ Chapter 7 ~o0o~
"Will you stop touching me!" Quaraun yelled at Unicorn.
"No. I refuses to."
Quaraun had just finished brushing his twelve foot long hair, an endeavour that took several hours, and was attempting to fold and pin it back up into the more manageable four foot length style he usually kept it in.
Unicorn, a little black furred trickster Faerie pony with a gleaming silver horn on his head, had decided it would be great fun to mess the Elf's hair back up. He had run up behind the Elf and twirled Quaraun's Rapunzel locks around his horn, but when he tried to run off afterwards, somehow got his horn stuck in Quaraun's impossibly long hair, which Quaraun was now trying to untangle.
“I canna move,” Unicorn whimpered mournfully, now regretting having messed with the Elf's hair.
“You shouldn't have stuck your horn in my hair.”
Unicorn shook his dreadlocked mane, trying to get his horn out of Quaraun's hair, but just made the tangled mess worse.
“Stop moving,” Quaraun snarled.
“Just grab some scissors and cut it.”
“I'm not cutting my hair! My father cut my hair. I'm never cutting my hair again.”
“Ya Daddy issues is becoming problem.”
“Shut up.”
“What ya gonna do in a few years when ya needs servants to carry ya hair?”
“It won't get that long.”
“No? It already long enough that ya always tripping on it. And ya canna sit down any more without making a fuss over where to puts ya hair otherwise ya can'na move iffy ya sits on it.”
Quaraun's pink pupiled blue eyes flashed with anger, as he continued, now silently to unwrap his hair from the pony's spiralled horn.
“Ya too easy for enemies to catch now. Ya wants to run away, all dey has to do is grab ya hair un then ya canna move.”
“I'm not cutting my hair.”
“Ya does nae have to cut it short. Just cut two or t'ree feet off of it.”
Unicorn wiggled again.
“Stop moving. You're making it worse.”
“Dis were bad idea.”
“Obviously.”
“Why did I do dis?”
“Because you're a nut.”
“I wants to run free. Galloping through the fields,” Unicorn moaned sadly.
“You could be if you hadn't been trying to annoy me.”
“It fun to annoys ya. Makes me horny unicorny.”
“Stop moving.”
“I can nots.”
"Stop it!"
"No."
"I'm gonna push you off a cliff," the pink Necromancer snarled.
"Oooooooooh!" the undead pony whinnied excitedly. "Go ahead. I ain't died by cliff death yet. Might be fun to die cliff death. Shatter me guts all over de rocks, let the birds feast on me entrails. Heck, let me know the next cliff ya sees un I'll save ya the trouble un go jump off it meself. Goody, goody, goody, goody. A new way to die!"
Quaraun glared at the Unicorn, who right now was purple and had a mouthful of Quaraun's long white hair gripped firmly in his teeth, chewing on it as though it were hay.
It had been a few hours since their hair entanglement debacle and Quaraun and Unicorn had now continued onward for another couple of miles before Quaraun decided he was completely and thoroughly lost. He stopped to sit on a log and looked at his map.
The map was a blank scroll, which drew itself every time you looked at it. No matter where you were, it drew a map of the area. If you were in a new town, it drew all the streets for you.
With the Elf Eater's enchanted map, one could never get lost.
King Gwallmattic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, had been the world's most powerful wizard for most of the 2,000 years of his life. But he could not read or write and so his spell scrolls were drawn out in pictures and symbols, which he understood, but no other wizard could decypher. Like every other spell he had written, his map looked like it had been drawn by a 2 year old.
When a non-wizard looked at the map, all they saw was a row of purple stick figure puppies, scribbled out trees, a house, and a great big red X in the middle. Like a child's treasure map to no where, it looked like it was not a real map at all.
However, in the hands of a wizard, the crayon drawing came to 3-D life and began running across the page, rearranging themselves to match the area around the wizard holding it.
Quaraun looked at the map. Right now, purple cartoon stick puppies drawn in crayon were dancing around the edges yipping excitedly, wagging their tails, happy to see him looking at them. Blinking arrows were pointing in every direction, each one yelling at him:
“Pick me!” screaming one puppy. "I know where to go!"
“No! Not him. I'm knowing a better place! Pick me!”
“Look at me, I'm not purple. I'm pink. Pick me.”
It was an enchanted map. It had been created by an insane wizard. A purple unicorn, who didn't know how to read or write and draw everything in purple crayons. A purple unicorn that right now, was chewing on his hair and burping loudly. The pony suddenly pricked up his fuzzy ears, and then galloped madly into the field, to trample a nodding daisy.
Quaraun turned the map around several times, trying to figure out which way was up and which way was down. Where North was, and which road on the map, was the road he was standing on. It never told him any information he wanted to know. He didn't know why he kept expecting it to tell him anything useful.
The tiny purple unicorn was galloping though a nearby field chasing butterflies and eating them. When he got bored with that he skewered several butterflies on his horn and trotted back to sit beside the old Elf.
Quaraun looked over at Unicorn.
"Why are their butterflies on your horn?"
"Why not?"
Quaraun shook his head and went back to staring at the map.
"Ya put ribbons in yar hair. I put butterflies on me horn."
Unicorned turned back into his Human form and ran screaming into the forest on the other side of the road. Quaraun looked up and watched him. A few minutes later he came screaming back and sat down beside the wizard. Quaraun continued to stare at him.
"What?" Unicorn asked.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I is be restless."
"I can see that. Why are you running around screaming?"
"I had to get it out of me system."
"Do all Faeries act like you?"
"Aye."
Quaraun shook his head and went back to trying to translate the Elf eater's enchanted map.
Unicorn came up behind the Elf and read the map over his shoulder. Unicorn couldn't read or write. When he wanted to write spells on scrolls his did so with crayons and drawings of stick figures. Though extremely effective in the hands of any one who could read his childish scribbles, his spell scrolls were nearly impossible for other wizards to interpret and cast.
"Is we dair yet?" Unicorn asked.
"No."
"How come for."
"Because I don't know."
“Why not?”
“I don't know. How many times do I have to say it?”
"Where is we be off to?"
"I don't know."
"Why does ya no know?"
"Unicorn."
"What?"
"Stop."
"Why?"
"I can't concentrate."
"Why?"
"Because you won't shut up."
"Why?"
"How the hell should I know why you won't stop?"
"What fot I needing shut up?"
“Because I'm trying to think.”
“About what?”
“About where we are. And where we are supposed to be. And why we are not there. And why are there purple puppies running back and forth across the map so I can't see what the map says?”
“Is we lost?”
“Yes.”
“Does ya even know where we is going to?”
“No, I don't know where we're going.”
“Will ya knows where we is going after we gets there?”
“No.”
“Does ya knows when we will be getting to this place ya does nae knows we going to?”
“No, I don't know when we'll get there. Because I don't know where we are going, this damn map won't tell me a damned thing."
"Then why are we going anywhere?"
"Because the pumpkins told me to."
"What pumpkins?"
"The ones we meet last night."
"We meet pumpkins last night?"
"Yes."
"Canst thou wit what the day shall bring. "
“What?
“Ya is talking to pumpkins?”
“Yes.”
“Me Necromancer, high on all that poppy milk we harvested earlier, is now talking to de pumpkins dat ain't no there.“
"I am not high on poppies."
"No?"
"No. Not right now."
"Meaning ya twere last night un ya will be again later."
"Unicorn. Please. Stop. You're being as annoying as a Golden Retriever."
There was a poof of purple smoke and suddenly a purple Golden Retriever was running circles around Quaraun, yipping excitedly.
Quaraun sighed and leaned forward resting his head on his arms, crossed on his lap.
“Why me?” he moaned. “The things poppies show me aren't half as strange as the things you do.”
Unicorn didn't answer. His was too busy getting dizzy, running in circled with his tail in his mouth.
"UNICORN! STOP IT!"
The Phooka turned back into his Human form and sa down beside the Elf. Quaraun went back to trying to translate what the map was telling him. Unicorn started poking the Elf's 12 inch long pointed ear.
“Stop it,” Quaraun said swatting the Faerie's hand away.
Unicorn poked him again.
“I said stop it.”
Unicorn poked him again. This time Quaraun swung around and punched him. The Faerie fell off the log, turned back into a purple puppy and began bouncing and barking excitedly.
“STOOOOP!” Quaraun screamed.
Seeing that he was risking pushing the wizard's temper too far, Unicorn turned back into his Humanoid form and sat quietly on the ground in front of the Necromancer. He was too fidgety to sit for more then a few seconds.
"I is bored."
"I can see that!"
"Need boredom to end."
"So turning into a dog and chasing your tail is gonna help?"
"Aye."
"Why don't you do something useful?"
"Like what?"
"Like teaching me how to translate this damn map."
"There is no t'ing to translate. Map take ya where evers ya need be."
"Right now all it's doing is pointing at you."
"Aye. It lead Elves to me sos I can eat dem."
"Is this thing taking us back t the Screaming Unicorn?"
Unicorn looked around.
"Look that way?"
"Do you know where we are?"
"Nope. But dis definitely coast road I been being on before. I think we is few days from me inn. Week from here. Maybes two."
"So it's taking you home?"
"Aye."
"Is that where it's supposed to take us?"
Unicorn shrugged.
"It take us where ever it is we does need being. If we need place to sleep, it show us place to set up camp or tavern for night or whatever is near by."
"I know that's what it is supposed to do. That's why I can't figure out why it lead us here. There's nothing here. You got an open field over there and dense forest over there, and a decimated town over there. None of them safe places to set up camp for the night."
"So why we stop here?"
"Because the map stopped here."
Quaraun held up the map.
"Look! There's nothing else on it. All it is showing me now is that city right there, that isn't there anymore."
Unicorn looked at the razed town ahead of them.
"It not been razed lang. Still smell smoke. Happen only week gone by."
"Which means there is a Human army within a week of here, meaning this is not a safe area, meaning this map is not working."
"Maybe map say we supposed to spend night in ruins?"
"Spend a night in ruins?"
"Aye."
"Let's keep walking," Quaraun said as he stood up, and went back to the road.
Unicorn followed him.
"Why for not stay in ruins?"
"Fresh ruins. With soot and ash..."
"Aye. Me forgetsing, me Elf can'na get dust on him perfectly pristine self."
“Why did you make this map?”
“Sos I never gets lost.”
“It never tells us anything useful.”
“Than why ya uses it?”
“I don't know, I...” Quaraun suddenly stopped walking.
Unicorn slammed into him.
"I wish ya would no stops like dat. Give me some warning before ya does dat."
"I heard something," Quaraun said nervously.
The Elf's eyes grew wide with fear, his long pointed ears pricked high and alert.
"Ya always hearing t'ings. Ya can hear a mile away wid those rabbit ears o'yars."
"No. I heard something."
"Dair ain't no t'ing out dair."
"There's always something out there."
"Aye. Frogs in trees. Birds in water. Fish in sky. Dair always be t'ings out dair. We does no have to panic over every one of dem, eh?"
"Yes we do."
"No we do'na."
"There's dangers around every corner."
"Aye. Un scared rabbity eared Elves waiting to runs from every one of dems."
Quaraun's long ears laid back fearfully.
"What was that?" He whispered.
"What were what?"
"Shut up."
Quaraun clamped his hand over Unicorn's mouth and perked up his long pointed ears to listen.
"I heard something."
Quaraun climbed up onto a log and continued to listen. His thin, pointed foot long ears twitched, nervously causing the chains connected back to his nose to shake and tinkle.
"Someone's hurt."
"Eh?"
"That way."
Quaraun pointed, then ran off in the direction he had pointed to. Unicorn turned into a tiny black Shetland pony with a silver horn and galloped along behind the Moon Elf. They soon came upon the city ruins.
The razed village was not as big as it had appeared from the hill. It was only a small village that had been built on top of ancient ruins. Trees had grown over the crumbled walls of buildings fallen over decades ago. There appeared to be no sign of life anywhere.
Quaraun stopped and listened again.
"I don't hear it any more," he said. "I was certain I heard someone, but now I hear nothing."
Unicorn transformed back into his Human form and sniffed the air. Faeries had keen sense of smell, especially when it came to sniffing out blood. He could smell fresh blood near by.
"Over dair," Unicorn said, pointing to a pile of rubble, freshly tumbled over. "It a Thullid."
"A Thullid?" Quaraun stopped. "Out here?"
Quaraun cautiously moved forward. Thullids were not to be trusted. They were dangerous. He saw something laying in the rubble. As he approached he could see that it was indeed a Thullid. The squid headed beast was old, it's purple tentacles faded to a dull, dusty mauve. It wore the robes of a DiJinn priest with a distinct pink and orange swirling pattern. The purple tentacle beast was trapped beneath a stone wall that had fallen on top of it. The elderly squid was too weak to lift the stones off himself.
"Can I eat it?" Unicorn asked.
"No."
Quaraun approached the wounded Thullid.
"Are you alright?"
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...
"They abandoned me," the Thullid whimpered, not opening his eyes. He was a Demon in a world that was quick to slaughter Demons and he was at the mercy of whomever had just found him and so he hoped his death would be quick and painless.
"Who did?"
"My people. We were on our way to meet the Summoner and stopped here to rest among the ruins until it was safe to travel at nightfall again. But alas this wall fell on me just before we set out the travel again, and they just left me here to die. I am too old. Too weak. Too unimportant. Now I will never lay eyes on my Lady again. Kill me quickly that I may swim in the oceans of the eternities."
"Hmmmm, a very Thullid thing to do," Quaraun said as he began rummaging through his tiny, pink, beaded, heart shaped bag of holding, which was far bigger on the inside.
"Whatch ya looking for?" Unicorn asked.
"Chains."
"Chains?"
“Yes.”
“Why?”
"We're taking him with us," Quaraun said.
"We is?" Unicorn asked.
"You are?" The Thullid asked, opening his large squid eyes and looking up at the Elf for the first time.
"YOU!" The Thullid gasped.
"Hello, ZooLock," Quaraun said as he pulled iron shackles and chains from his bag.
The Thullid suddenly began to flail and thrash and try desperately to escape, but the wall remained firmly on top of him. Quaraun clamped the shackles on ZooLock's arms.
"Lift the wall off him," Quaraun said to Unicorn.
Unicorn did as he was asked, while Quaraun locked the remaining shackles on the Thullid's legs.
“Oh saints be praised! Glixtiill shines blessing upon me!”
One of the many pink fabrics I designed for Quaraun...
"That's greeeaat. Just wonderful. Exactly what I didn't want to hear. Can you stand on your own?" Quaraun asked the old squid headed alien.
ZooLock attempted to stand and found he was only mildly bruised.
"Yes, I can walk," he said cheerfully. "I no longer need your help, my blessed saviour."
"I'm not here to help you, ZooLock."
"Oh. No! Of course not. One as great as you has many more important things to do then rescue a lowly priest as me."
ZooLock fell face first to the ground and began kissing the Elf's pink satin shoes.
“I brother.” Quaraun shook his head. "I'd forgotten how annoying ZooLock could be."
“By the glories of Xillithual, we are reunited at last!”
Quaraun turned and walked out of the ruins, not giving the Thullid time to stand up, and so instead dragged him on the ground. Unicorn watched as the Elf, normally a dainty, delicate creature who never hurt anyone, bruscky dragged the Thullid making sure to hit him on every rock he could.
"Me t'inks one does not like de Thullid," Unicorn said wehen he caught up to Quaraun.
"Really, how could you tell?"
"Ya knows him than?"
Quaraun stopped walking.
"ZooLock, this is King Gwallmaiic, the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, otherwise known as BoomFuzzy the Unicorn. Unicorn, meet ZooLock. Last of the Di'Jinn priests, and my prison guard for some thousand or so years. He kept me imprisoned in a glass goldfish bowl."
The fabric I designed for Unicorn's Kimono and Hakama...
"Ah! Dat would be de Jelly Fish talking, yes?"
"Yes."
Quaraun continued on. He walked back to the road, dragging ZooLock along behind him. The old Thullid didn't seem to mind and allowed himself to be dragged through the mud as he continued his outbursts of praises to various Demonic deities.
“So, I take it ya knows him?” Unicorn asked.
“Yes. Unfortunately. And he's a raving lunatic.”
“Why would him no be? Every one else ya knows is.”
"I never thanked you for the map, ZooLock."
"You are most welcome..."
Quaraun glared at the squid beast, who was laying face down on the ground, being dragged along behind the Elf with no complaint.
“ZooLock...”
“Yes?” The squid looked up at the Elf's angry eyes. "Oh... you were being sarcastic. My apologies my Lady. Has the a whip that I might lash myself for my indiscretions?"
"This is map guy?" Unicorn asked.
"Yes. Unicorn. This is ZooLock. The lunatic that sold me the map. This map!"
Quaraun waved the map in the air.
"This damned map! ZooLock, meet Unicorn. The lunatic who made the map."
"He is a Phooka," ZooLock replied.
"He is King Gwallmaiic."
"The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley?!"
"The same."
"Then you found him!"
"Obviously."
“Oh glorious days! Love blooms again. My lord has found his long lost love. I shall toss a dozen babies into the pits of Fire Mountain in celebration of this glorious day.”
“You'll do no such thing!” Quaraun yelled.
The Elf stomped angrily down the road, once again dragging the Thullid priest behind him, who continued to make no attempt at standing up and walking.
“I am so fed up with these psychopathic cultists worshipping me,” Quaraun grumbled as he walked. “It is so frustratingly annoying that everywhere I turn, there's another group of lunatics sacrificing innocents in my name. What do they think I am? I'm just an Elf. What is wrong with these people. Now they are sacrificing babies to volcanoes in my name? What next? What next!"
"You do approve of sacrificing babies to you?"
"You dare sacrifice a baby in my name, I won't just feed you to my Unicorn, I'll eat you myself!"
"Ah! Very good. I shall make note of this. No more sacrificing of babies in Her Ladyship's holy name."
"Why do you insist on worshiping me?"
"You are the Sacred Pink Jelly Fiish."
"I was before you stuffed me inside of this damned Elf!"
"Is the Moon Elf's body not to your liking? We can move you to another body more to your liking."
"No. I like this, Elf. But I would rather have been set free to live the ocean again instead."
"Sadly that is not possible, my Lady. As you well know the oceans of this planet are poison to you. I tried to put you in the ocean? Do you not remember? It burned your jelly flesh. You were so badly damaged. I no choice but to implant you immediately to save your life. The soft flesh of the Elf's brain healed you and kept you alive and now you have his body. You are no longer traped in a bowl. Now you can walk any where you please."
"Un walk him does," Unicorn said. "We walks all way from one side of planet to ot'er. Up coast. Down coast. Is dat why him walking so much? Make up for so many much years of no freedom to move?"
"I hate, having these damned cultists around," Quaraun said.
"Then why have you put me in chains?"ZooLock asked.
Quaraun stopped walking and turned to glare down at the old squid headed priest.
"You imprisoned me in this Elf. And get up you idiot. Stop making me drag you. You have feet, you can walk.”
“Yes my Lord.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Yes my Ladyship.”
“Stop it!”
Unicorn giggled.
“Don't you dare start,” Quaraun snarled at Unicorn.
“I said nothing.”
“I shall build altars at every town we pass...” ZooLock started to say.
“Don't you dare!”
Quaraun turned from ZooLock, pricking his ears up once again, listening.
"Ya hears somet'ing again," Unicorn stated.
Quaraun scanned the area but saw nothing.
"I feel like someone's following us."
"Does ya?"
"I heard that sound before, back on the road."
"What sound?"
"Wings flapping."
"Dat would be de birds, Quaraun. We out in wild nature. Dair be birdypoos every which way."
"It's not a bird."
"How ya know that?"
"I know the sound of birds and this doesn't sound like a bird."
"What it sound like?"
"I don't know. Not a bird. It's been following us for a few days now. It keeps it's distance. But it got close this time."
"Yis certain we is being followed?"
Unicorn looked around. Not that he could see any thing. He was almost blind and could barely see a foot in front of his nose.
"Yes."
"By a t'ing wid wings?"
"Yes."
"Ya sure it wings?"
"Demon wings."
"Demon wings?"
"Leathery fleshy wings without any feathers."
"Like a dragon?"
"Too small to be a dragon."
"A baby dragon?"
"Too stealthy to be an infant."
"So a Demon."
"With soft padded paws."
"Padded paws?"
"Like a rabbit."
"We is being followed by a Demon winged rabbit?"
"You know he's insane, right?" ZooLock asked Unicorn.
"Aye. un iffy yar is one what put Jelly in him head then yis one what did it to him."
"It doesn't hop like a rabbit," Quaraun continued.
"Does nae hop like a... Eh?"
"No. And it's definitely not a pumpkin."
"Eh? What? Pumpkin?"
"The pumpkins have been following us for a few days now."
"Have t'ey?"
"Yes."
"Quaraun? I trust ya rabbit ears to pick up every sound in the area, I just does nae trust ya conspiracy filled Jelly brain ta translate those sounds correctly."
A pair of blue eyes watched from the ruins as Quaraun shrugged and continued walking, his newly captured squid in tow and the little black unicorn prancing along behind. Purple wings fluttered, lifting white paws off the ground and to the trees.
<<< Previous Chapter: HellBorne and The Missing Sacrificial Sheep
Next Chapter: Highwaymen >>>
The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane
Volume 11 of 130
The Summoner of Darkness
Full Chapter Index -
About The Novel:
Volume 11: The Summoner of Darkness
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.
List Of Sample Chapters
Available To Read Online:
- A Letter To Home
- HellBorne and The Missing Sacrificial Sheep
- Highwaymen
- Another Letter To Home
- Hellhounds
- The Half-Elf Thief With Pockets Full of Sheep
- "I am Very Concerned About Blueberries." - Back At The Blueberry Plains of The Screaming Unicorn Inn
- A Field of Fire Breathing Butterflies
- The Pumpkins Are Following Us
- A Third Letter To Home
- The Abandoned Cathedral
- A Piano Fell From The Sky
- The Glow-In-The-Dark Sun Elf Who Fell From The Sky
- Night Terrors
- "Him not hurt. Him just cry baby."
- The Pregnant JellyFish
- Stay Wid Us Too Lang, Ya Go Crazy Wid Us
- The Black Lighthouse
- Strange Nightmares
- Pumpkins Again
- Food Fight In a Funeral Home
- Shrimp Dinners
- The Sixth Letter To Home
- The Fetishes of Phookas
- A Tavern Scene Part 1 - "Ever heard of a chastity cage?"
- A Tavern Scene Part 2 - Drunk Elves, Shrimp Dinners, and Dungeon Masters From The Future
- He Kills People With Candy (The 7th Letter To Home)
- ZooLock Again - Off To Talk to Merchants About Murder #2
- Three Days, Three Murders, & Still No Shrimp Dinners
- The Missing Children Bean-Nighe and Ben-Neeyah Warned Of
- Explosions From The Sea
- A Hurricane Hits The Lighthouse
- The Blind Phooka
- You Always See The Pony?
- Murder #4 & Questions About The Black Tower
- Pumpkins, Blueberries, and Shrimp
- The Thullids Arrive In Town
- Investigating Murder #5
- ZooLock's Thullid Cultists
- Murder #6 - The Red Herring Murder
- Murder #6 - The Real Murder
- The First Try At Entering Black Tower
- The Black Tower's Garden of Death
- Elves In Chandeliers
- Aardsvorkus Muddsburge & The Crystal cave of Time and Necromancy
- The Train Station
- Back At The Tavern
- Mallac and The Murder Weapon
- Mallac And The Shambling Dead - No Spell Is Ever without A Price
- Why is there an elephant in my bed?
- "Kcuf! Kcuf! Kcuf! Kcuf! Kcuf! Kcid a kcus! Kcuf!"
- Another Night, Another Murder (Murder #7)
- Elwin
- "My first thought was, where would a three year old put your bag of holding?"
- The Oozing Plate Of Sugar Cookies Bludgeoned By The Courageous Alien Being Chased By A Bloodthirsty Crazed Celebrity Chef
- Elwin and The Town Full of Dead Children
- Glimmer Monks wear nothing underneath their robes...
- Can Unicorns conceal themselves amongst normal horses and pick them off in secret?
- The Thullids Are Gathering Around The Golden Rooster
- A Bag Full of Pickled Jellyfish
- Back At Black Tower
- The Bottomless Pit
- I'm HellBorne The Evil, Lord of Black Tower, of The Castle of Blood and Death
- Necromancers Don't Wear Pink
- BoomFuzzy's Evil Army of Blood Thirsty Marshmallow Tutti-Frutti Fuzzy Wuzzy Fluffy Bunnies
- The Cult of The Sacred Pink JellyFish
- The Pregnant Jellyfish and The Murdered Half-Elf
- The Wrath of The Pink Necromancer
- Darkness Falls
- Back To Black Tower Again
- The Ptarmagin Kats of Space Dock 13
- On Board The VISION-D8
- Elwin Again
(The End?)
Did You Know?
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.
Who Is GhoulSpawn?
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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Did You Know:
Summoner of Darkness
was written on location at the real Witch Pond?
Meet The Real Witch Hole Pond:
If You Want To Visit Witch Hole Pond For Yourself, Here Are The Directions To It:
(Address is: Witch Hole Pond, Carriage Road, Mt. Desert Island, Acadia National Park, Bar Harbour, Maine)
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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.
Note: there are likely spelling errors on this site, and I am unlikely to see the ... I fix them when I find them, but, there are many issues here...
Note: English is not my first language, Shetlean Scottish is my native language, there are likly spelling and grammar errors, as I do not know American English and am attempting to write it by sounding words out.
Many times that Americans think a word on my site is misspelled, often it is not misspelled, it is just I mixed up languages and wrote it in Scottish without realizing I mixed the Scottish in with the English. Also our grammar is somewhat reversed from English grammar so words that are seeming in the wrong order for American English, is usually because they are in the correct order for Scottish and I either put English words in Scottish order by mistake or was unaware English put them in a different order then Scottish does.
For those unaware, Scottish Shetlean looks like this:
American English to Scottish:
a bit (piece) = a party --- EXAMPLE: "And some know a bit of Latin " > "And somme kan of latyn a party "
a long distance from = A piece fae
a piece of = the bit --- EXAMPLE: "The duck ate a piece of bread " > "The deuk ett the bit breid "
about the banks (on the shore/at the beach) = aboot da banks
accomplishments = kunnandi
After = Back o --- EXAMPLE: " After Halloween" > "Back o Hallomas "
alive (living) = kvikr
Always on the move = Never aff o da go
am I not = amn't I --- EXAMPLE: "Am I not invited? " > "I amn't invited? or Amn't I invited?"
are = is --- EXAMPLE: "Are you going soon?" > "Is ya to be going soon?"
autumn = dah haihst
belong to = fylgja
best = bettah moost
betray (verb) = svíkja
bewildered = villhyggjandi
building = biggin up --- EXAMPLE: "building confidence in everyday use " > " biggin up confidence in ivvryday øs "
built = builded --- EXAMPLE: "He built a new porch." > "Hims builded a new porch."
cast a spell = hoodooed
cat = kat (sounds like "caught") --- EXAMPLE: "Is it an orange cat?" > "Be he a o'jinn kat?"
child = bairn
church = kirk
color = colour
danger = hœttr
daren't = darena
daring = djarfr
dark = dökk
dark elf = Dökkálfr
dark-elves = Døkkálfar
darker = dökká
do you agree = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "That's a fine looking woman, do you agree?" > "Dair's ah right bonnie lass, eh?"
do you want to come too = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "I'm going to the store, do you want to come with me?" > "Me go to shope, eh?"
each = eche --- EXAMPLE: "Which each person can understand " > "That kan eche man understonde "
educated = lered --- EXAMPLE: "Both among the educated and the uneducated " > "As wel among lered as lewed "
elf = Alfr
Elf = Álfr
Elf Home = Álfheimr
Elf World = Álfheimr
elf-advice = Ælfred
elf-beautiful = ælfscyne
elf-friend = Ælfwine
elf-guardian (female) = Ælfwaru
elf-guardian (male) = Ælfweard
elf-powerful = Ælfric
everyday = ivvryday
eyelids = eye ledes --- EXAMPLE: "He closed his eyelids." > "Hims did shut hims eye ledes"
fair = faire --- EXAMPLE: "Going to the fair." > "Done gone went to the faire."
feild = felde --- EXAMPLE: "Standing in the feild." > "Stoodt in thems felde."
further = ferther --- EXAMPLE: "I looked further." > "I dids lokid ferther."
green = grene --- EXAMPLE: "Look at the green hedges and woods." > "Look see at thems heigges and holtz so grene."
handsome = braw --- EXAMPLE: "He is very handsome " > "Him wicked braw "
have faith = trúa
Have no doubts about our doing it = Nae faer o wis
Have no liking for this. = Hae nae brou o this.
have not = ain't
He knows how many beans make five. = He kens the laid frae the croun o the causey.
He knows which side his bread is buttered on. = He kens whilk side his bannock's buttert on.
Head for = Mak wye for
head rope in fishing nets and lines = baak
head to head = Be at the knag and the widdie
horse fly = klegsie
I = Me
I Think = Me thinks --- EXAMPLE: "I think we're late. " > "Me thinks that we is late. "
I wish you well for the future = Lang may yer lum reek (translation: Long may your chimney smoke)
idiot = eejit --- EXAMPLE: "You idiot." > "Ya eejit."
idiot = numpty
if = iffy or yif--- EXAMPLE: "If you don't mind..." > "Iffy yas does no care mind...."; "If you'll stay with me long enough = "Yif ye so longe with me wil dwelle". "
I'll be even with you = A'll see day aboot wi ye
know = ken
looked = lokid
looked = lokid --- EXAMPLE: "I looked up." > "I lifte up me eye ledes and lokid ferther."
magic = hoodoo
naked = nøkkviðr
needle = bodkin
neither = nouther --- EXAMPLE: "Who know neither Latin nor French " > "That kan nouther latyn ne frensch "
No = Nay --- EXAMPLE: "No, I don't think so. " > "Nay, me thinks not. "
Nobody knew = not-knew nobody
Noontide = Da heicht o da day
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "Did you meet the new family next door?" > "Dids ya gets a chance to stop by and meets with thems new folk that move-ed in down yawn there next doors to ya, eh?"
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "He went to Rite-Aid to pick up his prescription" > "Hims did go to that yawn there new fangled store the new folks call that Rite Aid place, to gets himself some of thems there pills what the doctor gone and tells him to take each morning, a-yep, hims did."
old = olde --- EXAMPLE: "But educated and uneducated, old and young " > "Bot lered and lewed olde and yonge "
orange = o'jinn
out = oot --- EXAMPLE: "The cat wants to go out." > "The kat he do wants oot."
outside = oot dair
people = fokk --- EXAMPLE: "the people of Shetland " > "Shetland fokk "
people = folke --- EXAMPLE: "Look at all those people." > "Lookie at all thems folke."
poorly = febelly --- EXAMPLE: "Who know French very poorly " > "That kan frensch ful febelly "
Recognising = Recognisin --- EXAMPLE: "Recognising the bilingual nature of Shaetlan speakers " > "Recognisin da wye at Shaetlan spaekers is bilingual "
shield = skjoldr
Since = For --- EXAMPLE: "Since that is your native language " > "For that is youre kynde langage "
tell = telle --- EXAMPLE: "I'll tell you in English " > "In englysch tonge I schal you telle "
the = da, de, or is not used at all --- EXAMPLE: "I went to the store" > "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to shoppe"
them = dem, dem dair --- EXAMPLE: "I went with them" > "Me goes wit dem dair"
there = dair --- EXAMPLE: "I want those potatoes" > "Me be wanting dem dair tatetas."
they = dey
To where = whither --- EXAMPLE: ""Where you go, I will go." " > ""Whither thou goest, I'll go."
understand = understonde
understand = understonden --- EXAMPLE: "Some understand English " > "And somme understonden englysch "
very = wicked --- EXAMPLE: "very good" > "wicked good"; "very bad" > "wicked bad"; "very cold" > "wicked cold"
Where = Whither --- EXAMPLE: "Where is the restroom? " > "Whither is the privy?"
Yes = Yea or Aye --- EXAMPLE: "Yes, I think so. " > "Yea, me thinks so. " or "Aye, me thinks so. "
For anyone actually interested in learning my native language, the Scottish government has THIS listed as the official dictionary of our people: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/61d7352954b7fd1c9dbdfef4/t/65ddb2749d5e0541a01009c0/1709027964496/Spaektionary_2024feb.pdf
The Scottish government provides this document to show our language in use: https://www.shetland.uhi.ac.uk/t4-media/one-web/uhi-shetland-images-and-documents/documents-/shaetlan/Shaetlan-Language-Plan-2022-Shaetlan.pdf
More information about our language can be found on this website: https://www.iheardee.com which is written in my native language.
However, there is also other reasons why words might be misspelled, or why I might not understand someone when they speak to me.
My grandmother Helen Ricker Allen, was from Unst, Shetland, Scotland, and she the one who raised me. She taught me to read and write, but it was Shetlain that she taught me. She died when I was 8 years old, and I was locked in a woodshed after her furneral, I escaped the woodshed 27 years later at age 31, and have been trying to learn how to speak and write English since then.
It is a very great struggle.
At age 37 I took remidial reading and speaking classes at Southern Maine Community College, but we are Gypsies and Gypsy men do not allow us Gypsy women to have education, and so, while at college, on November 14, 2013, I was beaten with a golf club, while I was 8 months pregnet, breaking my spine, hips, and knees, killing my baby and leaving me quardepaleic since.
Now my primary focus these past 13 years has been on relearning to use my hand so I could type... as of 2023, I have regained the use of my right thumb, and first two right fingers, and after 10 years offline, I am back online due to I can use three finguers.
I never went to school, so I do not know maths and numbers and sciences, and I do not know what else would have been taught to me in school. We are Scottish Gypsies and Gypsy culture does not allow females to go to school. Being born female was already a great sin, but my grandmother took great risk in teaching me reading and writing. At 4 years old I was punished by my Uncle Bruce for knowing how to read, by being beaten in the face with a cinder block brick, that broke my right jaw and left me with garbaled near-mute spoken words ever since.
Because no one ever spoke words to be face to face from he time I was 8 years old until I was 37 years old (I escaped the room at age 27, but did not start college until 37), I have no training in how to vocally sound out or speak the words I write or read. I can read words, but I do not know how to sound out or say those words. I can write words, but I do not know how to match the written word against the spoken word. I struggle to associate spoken words at all, or make them match up with writen words.
Esentially, written words and spoken words are two completly seperate languages in my brain, and I have difficulty understanding spoken words.
If you say a sentance to me with your mouth, chances are very high I will have ZERO understanding of what you said and I will not be able to ander you.
However, if you WRITE down that exact same sentabnce, I can understand you and can type a written responce to you.
My doctors tell me this is a side effect of extreme isolation and neglect and lack of human contact during my toddler, childhood, teen, and young adult years, and that my brain never deveoloped to comprehend spoken vocal words due to no one ever speaking to me in over three decades of the first half of my life.
While I can read and write, American English (somewhat) I do no know how words are sounded out, what they are supposed to sound like. I readand write by shape recognition, not by sound/vocal recognition, so when reading and writing I do no "hear the words in my head" as I am told most people do when they read and write. In other words... I see "c a t" and think "c-a-t" I do not think "cat" nor do I "see" an image of a cat, no do I "hear" the word cat spoken. I'm told that this is very rare and that most people read and write by sounding out the words and linking them to visual mind images, while hearing the sound of the word in their head. I neiher hear words in my head no see images of things in my head. I'm told this is what makes me both a speed reader and speed writer, because I'm not tripped up by hear sounds or seeing images in my head like nomal people would be doing... however, I'm also told this is why my spelling and grammar are very poor, because my brain is not hear the sounds of the words or seeing visual images of the objects the words represent, so my mind also does not register spelling and grammer errors at all.
As I was only let out of the woodshed on Sundays to go to the Cape Elezabeth Ward Church of the August Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I was never allowed to go to school or hospital either. No adults ever talked to me because I was evil for comitted the sin of being born female, so I never learned how to speak properly and do not know how to sound out words to say them.
I was 42 years old, in 2016 when, while having an MRI for my spine, the doctors found out my speak issue was caused by a broken jaw as a toddler that was healed wrong because not being allowed to go to doctors. I had surgury to fix that, and since 2016 have been trying to learn how to use my jaw and touge so I can speak vocal words now.
Since 2023 my primary focus shifted to relearning to walk. I can now, in 2026, sit up for 2 or 3 hours a day, and can sand with a cane for a few minutes, and can walk for around five thousand feet in 2 to 3 segments a day, with the help of pushing my wheelchair like a walker.
As of 2026, with a slight return to using my fingers and legs, I am once again focused on trying to learn the American English, but I live in mortal fear of my uncles and male cousins, as they are so hateful of allowing me to have education.
have no one to help me to know if I am doing words correctly, and as such, I have no way of knowing if there are spelling and grammar errors, but I asume there are, and I fix them when I learn them, but I do not know what I do not know and spelling American words is a thing I do bnot know.
I have Low Fucntioning Kanner's Syndrom, also known as "RainMan Type of Autism" aka REAL and ACTUAL Autism, not to be confused with Aspergers, High Functioning Autism, or and of thr 861 illnesses on the Autism Spectrum. An Autism Spectrum Disorder is an illness that has symptoms similar to Autism but IS NOT Autism. If you have an Autism Spectrum Disorder, it LITERALLY MEANS you do NOT have Autism.
I am medically diagnosed as "kanner's syndrome, actual autism, the rainman type, profoundly retarded autistic savant, with a general IQ of 73, and an writing IQ of 221" but they added that they did not know how to properly diagnose me as I am "technically a feral child" and they don't know "how much is the autism, and how much is simple horrific levels of abuse and neglect induced post traumatic stress disorder that will go away with proper socilization".
It means I know how to write, I can write a lot, and it is next to impossible for you to teach me how to do literally anythig else because my brain only knows how to write and doesn;t know how to do anything else..
There's a reason, when I do book signings, people are quick to say: "Okay, what's the joke? why is this stupid retard here? where's the real author? I know this retard isn't the author. where are you hiding the author, why is this fucking retard here"
The end result is, I have near zero social interaction... my 3 years in college was the ONLY face to face interaction I have ever had with humans in my entire life, and I struggle deeply to understand MOST words used by MOST people when they ask me question. And so I suffer from a huge lack of understanding many words people say to me, how to translate those words into spelling, and how to translate what it is that has been said.
The fact remains hat until there exists a human on this planet who is willing to sit down and teach me what words spoken line up with and match what words written, this deficent is unlily to improve. But the fact also remains, that I am simply far too profoundly retarded for anyone to even try to make any attempt at all even to speak a friendly "hgelloe" or "good morning" when passing me on the street, so I have lost all hope of anyone ever either being my friend, being willing to teach me how to match spoken words to written words, or how to speak to other humans.
While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.
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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.
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My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since. |
The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.
Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.
Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.
Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.
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The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.  If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.
Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.
Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.
Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.
In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.
Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.
But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.
I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.
Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.
Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.
I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.
My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.
Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Important:
Fraudulent sites are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official website for Wendy Christine Allen is www.eelkat.com
Fraudulent social media accounts, particularly on Reddit and FaceBook are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official social media accounts for Wendy Christine Allen are listed in the footer here at www.eelkat.com
Find Me on Social Media:
Any websites and accounts you find online that are NOT on this list are NOT Wendy Christine Allen
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
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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