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 Beginning of the End
Into The Swamp of Death (novel excerpt)
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!
Sample Chapter from:
Quaraun and the Vampire, Into the Swamp of Death
Volume 8 of
The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane
"I'm sorry I hurt you," Quaraun said to Unicorn.
"I know. I have forgiven ya, Quaraun. I just have to re-learn to trust ya agains."
"I feel like I'm losing control of myself. I worry that a day will come when I do kill you because I no longer have enough self control to stop myself. I don't want you to die and I can't trust myself to not kill you. There is a healer, Massimara, she lives on Mount Yen, in Baironi. We should go there. She knows powerful magic, maybe she can do something to restore your sight and ease your pain. We can be there in a few weeks."
"Baironi?" BeaLuna interrupted. "Are you crazy? That's halfway around the world! You have to find a ship to go across the ocean. That alone is gonna take months. It'll be at least a year before we get there."
Quaraun turned his attention to the little pink haired, green skinned Flower Gnome and the Dwarf. He'd nearly forgotten of their presence. These past few weeks he'd worried only of Unicorn's failing health and had barely said a word to either the Orchid Gnome or the Mountain Dwarf who'd been travelling with them.
"I have a ship," Quaraun said.
"You have a ship? Since when?"
Quaraun reached into his bag of holding and pulled out a tiny glass bottle. Inside was a ship, floating in water.
"It's a flying ship. Fully crewed. It only takes days to cross the ocean in her. We...uhm...we...commandeered her in your absence. It was the first thing we did after leaving the Vulgar Alchemist Inn."
"That ship? We are gonna cross the ocean, on a ship that's barely two inches long and corked in a bottle?"
"Yes. I lived with the Di'Jinn for decades. My speciality is Genie Bottles, Phylacteries, and Bags of Holding. Remember? I used to own a shop and that's what I sold. I inadvertently helped to create the Lich Lords because I'm so good at what I do and, so also so good at getting caught in Faerie traps. Apparently, I have a weakness for the Fae and their drugged food."
BeaLuna glared at Unicorn.
"Yeah, I'd say you do. Especially when it's a psychotic Faerie trying to get in bed with you. You just fall for that one every time. That's how you got stuck with this crazy Faerie and that lunatic BoomFuzzy you used to fuck around with before you started fucking around with Unicorn. Damn you Quaraun, you need to stop drinking Faerie wine and getting yourself fucked over by Phookas."
"Maybe him likes Faerie wine un getting him bahookie fucked by the Phookas," Unicorn said.
"I wasn't talking to you," the Gnome screamed. "I'm never talking to you. You're a raving lunatic and I don't want you near me."
"Him do be insane un ya does not mind him." Unicorn pointed to Quaraun.
"No, you keep him drunk on Faerie wine and he doesn't know whether he's coming or going any more."
"Quaraun, are ya not wanting me keeping ya drunk on Faerie wine so I can fuck yar wee lil ass?"
Quaraun looked back and forth from the Faerie to the Gnome. "How do you two turn every conversation into an argument about my sex life?"
"Well,” Bullgaar answered. “You're a male Elf dressed like a female prostitute she-slut, eunuch who took of vow of celibacy, claims to still be virgin, and you likes whoring yourself out to unicorns and male Faeries. Everyone wants to talk about your sex life, because no one else has one quite like it."
"Yes, well, while you and BeaLuna argue about my sordid sex life, I'm gonna take Unicorn to Mount Yenka, in Baironi to see Massimara. And BeaLuna, what's happened to you? You used to like BoomFuzzy. The only reason you didn't die with everyone else is because you didn't hate BoomFuzzy with everyone else. When did you start hating BoomFuzzy?"
"That thing there," BeaLuna pointed to Unicorn as she spoke. "He's not BoomFuzzy, Quaraun. You gotta get that through your head. BoomFuzzy's dead and this creature is not him. This THING is a monster. He's a trickster. He's drugging you with Faerie Food and playing tricks on your mind. He's NOT BoomFuzzy and I don't have to like him. I can hate him all I want."
"Bullgaar?" Quaraun stood up and turned to the Dwarf. "Do you agree with her?"
"I did not knows the BoomFuzzy, fellah, but that Unicorn there, he's crazy. I wouldn't travel with him by choice. Don't trust him. Never trusted no Phookas."
"So you both don't like Unicorn."
"No, Quaraun," answered BeaLuna. "We don't. And neither of us like travelling with him."
"But you liked BoomFuzzy."
"No, actually, I didn't. I put up with him, because you liked him and it became impossible to spend time with you, without also spending time with BoomFuzzy. The two of you were never out of each other’s sight, same way you are with Unicorn now. You’re very clingy with your lovers, you know that Quaraun? And I couldn’t stand BoomFuzzy. He was taking advantage of you, Quaraun. He admitted it. I asked him once. And he came right out and told me he was only using you to get you to make those 13 phylacteries. Quaraun he built the damned Lich Lords and he was only pretending to like you, so you'd help him. He used you Quaraun. He did not love you. He never did. He killed himself in a Lich making ritual.
“Quaraun he did not love you. You need to open your eyes and face that. BoomFuzzy was a horrible person who took advantage of the fact you are too stupid to know when people are using you. I never liked that about him. You were so in love with him, you couldn't see it. You didn't want to see it. You did what you always do. You pretended not to see what was right in front of you. He was using you, because you was a wizard. And the worst part of it was you knew he was using you and you just turned a blind eye to it!
“You completely ignored what he was doing. You’re always doing that. You won’t look at things you don’t want to see. Everyone knew he was an evil Necromancer, and you even knew it, but you overlooked it. You overlooked how people started going missing after he showed up. You knew he was killing people, Quaraun.”
“BeaLuna,” Unicorn interrupted. “Ya shoulds stop whiles ya ahead un while ya still has a head. Ya does not know what yis doing.”
“SHUT UP!” The Gnome screamed at the Phooka. “I can't stand you. You are every bit as bad as BoomFuzzy. You use Quaraun, just like he did. All you care about is sex. You don't give a damn about him. You know he's desperately mourning BoomFuzzy and you're taking advantage of that to get him in bed with you. You're worse then BoomFuzzy...”
“BeaLuna ya really needs to stop belittling BoomFuzzy, ya does nah know what Quaraun him did...”
Bullgaar punched the Faerie. “Stop interrupting the Gnome. I wanta hear her.”
“She really needs to stop...”
“Why?” BeaLuna demanded. “Because he can't take hearing the truth?”
“No, him can no face what yis saying tos him, BeaLuna, he really can no, ya does not know hows de Moon Elves did died...”
“And you do?”
“I were there. I saws what him did. They push him too far. Like yis doing now. Him can no take anything bad said of BoomFuzzy. We is soul bound, I know what him feels, I know ya is hurting him too much with ya words. Ya have to stop talking. Ya have to stop saying bad tings of the BoomFuzzy.”
“Oh you know this, why, because you love him?”
“Aye, I do, BeaLuna. I does love him. I loves him very much.”
“No, you don't. You just want to fuck him because you know it's easy to get him bed with you. He only let’s you fuck him as long as you keep playing with his mind and confusing him with your talk of being BoomFuzzy.”
“I is BoomFuzzy, BeaLuna. Quaraun is Necromancer. Him not wee lil Elf ya knew. Him change. Him brought me back, ya has to believe that, before he kills ya. Him kills people now. Him kills a lot of people. Ya been away from him too long. Ya knows not hows much him change.”
“Only because he hangs around with you. And he only does that because you lie about being BoomFuzzy.”
“I is BoomFuzzy.”
“No, you're not. You're nothing but a damned shape shifting monster. That's all you are. You are not BoomFuzzy. You are are nothing but a deceptive Phooka. You're a trickster Faerie, deceiving people is what you do.”
“I knows what I is. I knows what I do. That does not change who I is. Who I was in life un what him did to bring me back. I is BoomFuzzy, Quaraun is a Necromancer, him brought me back.”
“I knew BoomFuzzy, and he wasn't you.”
“BeaLuna, please stop, ya hurting him.”
“She ain't hurting the Elf,” Bullgaar laughed. He was enjoying seeing the hurt expression on the Phooka's face. He didn't care about the Elf, so long as the Phooka was upset.
“Please, BeaLuna, ya knows what his father did, he is hurt enough...”
“I don't care. Someone needs to wake him up to the truth. He's been living in a dream world. He won't face reality because he too hung up on some lost lover, who never loved him in the first place. BoomFuzzy was a vile, evil, perverted monster. That bastard of a wretch never loved Quaraun. He knew Quaraun was stupid and easy to take advantage of. He messed with Quaraun's head the same way you are doing now. Quaraun's too retarded to know when he's being used, it's some many people keep taking advantage of him. I hate seeing you do it, just like I hated seeing BoomFuzzy do it.”
“BeaLuna please stop,” Unicorn pleaded, now sounded frightened. “Ya do'na know what ya doing.”
“No?”
“Ya do'na know whats he has done. What him is capable of doing...”
“Oh and you do? You don't even know him. I've known him his whole life. You've only been in his life less then a year. You don't know him at all.”
“I is soul bound to him. I has been for centuries. I knows what him feels, what him tinks, un I know what ya words are making him feels right now un knows ya need to stop, because right now him be seeing ya the same way he saws hims father. Please stop. Ya do'na know what happens...”
“Shut up and leave me alone, you perverted beast! I hate you! I hate the sight of you! I hate the thought of you! I wish you'd drop dead! I hate you as much as I hated BoomFuzzy.”
Unicorn sat on the ground and stared at his hands. BeaLuna continued yelling at him. Unicorn was in fact BoomFuzzy and he was soul bound to the Elf and he could feel everything the Elf was feeling and right now, Quaraun's heart was filled with an overwhelming sadness that was crushing his spirits. It upset Unicorn that BeaLuna's words were upsetting Quaraun so much and he didn't know how to stop her. Unicorn liked BeaLuna, he didn't like that she didn't like him. But the thing troubling Unicorn the most was the fact that BeaLuna was unaware of Quaraun's ability to kill people simply by wishing them dead and right now, Quaraun was wishing the Gnome was dead. And every time Bullgaar added a snide comment, Quaraun was wishing he'd die too. Quaraun was a Di'Jinn wizard, trained by the Di'Jinn themselves, granting wishes is what he did, but never well. He simply wasn't good at it. And when he started granting his own wishes things went wrong. Horribly wrong. They always did. Unicorn had seen it happen more than once. He's only heard rumours of Kelim's village, but he'd seen the deaths of the Di'Jinn and the destruction of the Moon Elf Village, he knew full well what Quaraun was actually capable of.
BeaLuna and Bullgaar both thought the Moon Elves had been killed by the Lich Lords.
Every one thought the Moon Elves had been killed by the Lich Lords.
The destruction of the Moon Elf Village had been so sudden and so violent. Whatever hit them, hit them fast. Swooping down on them without warning. A horrific Lich's frost that instantly froze everything and everyone – that's what people said. It had never occurred to anyone to think that Quaraun had killed his own people to punish them for driving BoomFuzzy to suicide. Quaraun was so timid. So quiet. So peaceful. He was too busy planting roses and embroidering pink hearts on everything to think an evil thought. He was too stupid to know what was going on around him. Everyone knew this to be true.
But then there was Kelim's village. Kelim, about to marry the daughter of Finderu. Kelim alone had survived. Everyone knew the stories – a Necromancer had walked into town and unleashed a Lich on the village. A Lich unlike any Lich the world had ever known: a black dragon, and not just any black dragon, but the Elf Eater's Dragon from Fire Mountain, the most feared dragon of them all, owned by the most feared Lich of all time, both of Lich and Dragon controlled by a psychotic pink robed Necromancer.
Finderu was the leader of the Wizardry Guild. It had been on his word that the order to banish Necromancers from the Guild had gone out. He was the one who had been pivotal in setting BoomFuzzy on his vengeful path of Lichdom. Somewhere in Quaraun's twisted mind, Finderu had been to blame for BoomFuzzy's death and so, Quaraun had let loose a DracoLich on him, and everyone in his village. Unicorn insisted Quaraun was that Necromancer that destroyed Kelim's village, and Quaraun himself admitted to what he had done, but BeaLuna would not hear a word of it, nor would she believe Quaraun had had any part in the deaths of his people.
Quaraun's mind was broken far more than the Gnome realized and he simply could no longer listen to anything said against BoomFuzzy, no matter who it was who had said it. It never occurred to anyone to think that everyone whom had ever said an unkind word to or about BoomFuzzy had a nasty habit of turning up dead.
Quaraun could hear no word against BoomFuzzy. Not even from his children. Four small children. The oldest only 9. Had come in one night singing a song they had overheard and knew not the meaning of. A song about BoomFuzzy and the joys of the world without him. A song that rejoiced in his death.
They were the first to die. Four small children, who never knew BoomFuzzy and knew not the meaning of the song they sung. Murdered at the hands of their own father. For he loved his children, but he loved BoomFuzzy more.
“I loved my children,” Quaraun said quietly.
“We aren't talking about your children Quaraun,” BeaLuna yelled. “Will you stop drifting off and pay attention!”
“That were the breaking point,” Unicorn said. He sounded terrified.
“I loved BoomFuzzy more.”
BeaLuna didn't know about Finderu and Kelim or what had happened to their village. She didn't know BoomFuzzy had been kicked out of the Guild for practising Necromancy and so Quaraun murdered every last Guild member. More importantly, BeaLuna didn't know about the children. Four little Elflings, singing a nursery rhyme their vile hearted mother had taught them. A horrible song, about a monster named BoomFuzzy. A horrible song whose words cut through their father's heart like a knife. That night their father put them in bed and then as they slept sliced their throats, then in a rage, turned on the village and killed every last Moon Elf, for their crime of not only driving BoomFuzzy to suicide, but also turning his beloved children against the Faerie he had loved so dearly.
BeaLuna didn't know how the children had died. But Unicorn knew. Unicorn knew that Quaraun loved BoomFuzzy with a devotion that defied logic and Quaraun would do anything to anyone, to defend BoomFuzzy's honour. Unicorn knew the danger BeaLuna was putting herself in, with this rant against BoomFuzzy. Unicorn knew what Quaraun was capable of and it frightened him terribly the dark thoughts that were now surfacing on Quaraun's tormented soul.
“I loved my children,” Quaraun said again, sounding horrified and mortified.
The guilt of having murdered his children weighed heavy on his mind. He'd gone too far and he knew it, but he didn't know how to stop. He knew the thoughts rising up in his soul now. How much he wanted to shut the Gnome up – forever.
BeaLuna had been his friend since childhood. He loved her dearly, but he loved BoomFuzzy more and every word she spoke now, piled on more hurt of the pain that was already crushing the poor Elf's mind.
Quaraun walked away from the group, looking dazed and confused. He could not bare to listen to BeaLuna's words any more. He needed to get away from her. He wanted to be alone, to not listen to the hurtful words she had to say about BoomFuzzy. But she followed him and continued to belittle BoomFuzzy’s memory.
“BeaLuna leave him alone...”
BeaLuna ignored Unicorn and followed Quaraun, still screaming at him.
“BoomFuzzy only seduced you because you were the local wizard. He knew you was the only one who could stop him, and he knew if he toyed with your heart, that you wouldn't stop him. He used you Quaraun. You are are incredibly stupid Quaraun, it’s so damned easy for people to take advantage of you, because you haven’t got enough brains to know any better. I don’t know how you survive. Of all the Moon Elves to survive, why you? You are too stupid to live and yet you’re the one who keeps on going while everyone around you drops dead. It’s dumb luck is what it is, is certainly ain’t survival of the fittest, you’re the farthest from being the fittest, and you’re just about the dumbest danged Elf I ever met.”
“You’ve meet an Elf dumber then he is?” Bullgaar asked.
“No. Bullgaar’s right. You’re the stupidest Elf I’ve ever met. You know how to do one thing and one thing only. Magic. That’s it. You are damned good at being a wizard, you’re the best danged wizard anyone’s ever seen, but you don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground about anything else. You think you know love. You don’t know love. You don't know when someone loves you.
“You know how to love. I’ve never seen anyone love someone as much you loved BoomFuzzy, but he didn’t love you, and you’re too stupid to see that. He didn't love you. He never did. He used you, Quaraun.”
“I does love him, BeaLuna,” Unicorn said, not moving from his spot on the ground, hoping she'd come back to him and let Quaraun walk away.
“YOU ARE NOT BOOMFUZZY! STOP CONFUSING HIM!”
“Leave him alone, BeaLuna.”
“You leave HER alone!” Bullgaar yelled as he punched the sick Phooka as hard as he could.
Unicorn let out a cry of pain. The Phooka fell back to his knees again. He was too weak to put up a fight. But his sharp yelp of pain, struck a nerve in Quaraun.
Quaraun stopped walking. He turned and stared at Bullgaar. The big Dwarf was a bully. He was bigger than everyone else in their group and he liked picking on the little sick Faerie. He liked pushing Unicorn around. He took every opportunity he could find to hit Unicorn and push him around.
Quaraun’s mind reeled. BeaLuna and Bullgaar were his friends, but now they had both turned on Unicorn. They belittled BoomFuzzy’s memory, while they attacked the dying Faerie that resembled him so much.
Quaraun had already lost BoomFuzzy before. He wasn’t gonna lose him again.
The old Phooka was new to their group. A stranger. There was no logical reason for Quaraun to defend him. But he was BoomFuzzy. Back from the dead. Of this Quaraun was certain. And now that BoomFuzzy was back alive, he would not lose BoomFuzzy again.
“They both used you,” BeaLuna continued to yell at Quaraun. “BoomFuzzy and now him. He used you because, you’re so stupid that it’s easy for people to take advantage of you. Your father was right about him. He was a really bad person and your father was right to want to get you away from him."
"You agreed with my father?" Quaraun asked, quietly, looking at BeaLuna for the first time since she had started yelling at him.
“We all agreed with your father.”
“No one hated BoomFuzzy more then my father did.”
Quaraun was used to being belittled, put down, teased, and called stupid by everyone around him. He’d grown up with the entire Moon Elf village treating him that way. His entire childhood had been spent, burying his nose in magic books to try to pretend he couldn’t hear the person beside him calling him stupid and retarded.
Had Quaraun lived in a time when such things were known, doctors would have told his friends that Quaraun had Autism, and he excelled in silently sitting in one spot for hours on end not crying or showing any emotion at all while people told him he was stupid. People thought their words had no effect on him, because he sat silent, not crying, not showing any emotion at all. But inside he was screaming. Inside he felt like they were tearing him apart. Inside he wanted to tear their tongues out of their thoughts and make them shut up. But no one had belittled him more than his father. It hurt when people called him stupid, but it was soul crushing when it father had done it. He tried shutting out most of BeaLuna’s cruel words now, until she brought up his father.
BeaLuna continued to scream and yell, but Quaraun was no longer hearing it. His thoughts were thrown back to his childhood and the horrible abuse he had received at the hands of his father. Then his thoughts went to BoomFuzzy. No one had hated BoomFuzzy more then Quaraun's father had done.
"You agreed with my father?" Quaraun said again, this time to himself.
"Yes. On BoomFuzzy I did. And I'd agree with him on this too. He'd hate Unicorn and you know it. He'd hate that you were sharing your bed with this vile, perverted creature."
"My father was evil."
“No. Quaraun. He wasn’t.”
“He hated me.”
“No, Quaraun, he didn't.”
“He wanted me dead.”
"Quaraun, your father cared about you. He wanted a better life for you, then the one you were chasing after. He wouldn't want to see you wasting your life worrying about a trampy fuck-crazy Phooka who ain't worth a piece of shit. You used to have a mission and a purpose, until you met him, and now all you do is lean over and let that thing fuck you. You used to travel to help villages from the Lich Lords, now all you do is not travel for weeks because he's too old to be travelling and can't keep up, so we have to stop and pamper him. What you really need to do is find a healer, and then leave him there so you can get on with your life without this interruption in the way of everything."
“He reminds me of BoomFuzzy.”
“Quaraun, he's not BoomFuzzy.”
“I don't care.”
“Quaraun, you need to care, you're just gonna get hurt again.”
“I want BoomFuzzy.”
“He's not BoomFuzzy.”
“I don't care.”
“You need to care...”
“I love him.”
“Quaraun, why aren't you listening to me?”
“I AM listening to you. For the first time. I am hearing you. You hated BoomFuzzy just like everyone else did. I thought you were my friend. You’re just like everyone else. I don't want to hear you any more, you're annoying me.”
“He's not BoomFuzzy.”
“I don't care.”
“You're father would have cared.”
“I don't care what my father would have thought.”
“You're father didn't want you throwing your life away and I don't either.”
“He hated BoomFuzzy.”
“Quaraun, BoomFuzzy was evil. Your father didn’t want you hanging around with evil wizards.”
“He was not evil.”
“Yes he was.”
“You hated BoomFuzzy?”
“No, Quaraun. I hated the way he was using you.”
“You hate Unicorn.”
“Yes, I can't stand, Unicorn.”
“You hated BoomFuzzy and you hate Unicorn.”
“Quaraun, that is not BoomFuzzy, that thing is a monster. He's not even a person. He just morphs into that form to blend in. He's a monster. An actual monster. You know that. You've seen his natural form. You're the only one who really knows what he looks like. Quaraun, you KNOW he's not BoomFuzzy. You know he's not even remotely a person.”
“I was there, when BoomFuzzy died. I saw what he turned into after the illusions were gone. BoomFuzzy was a Unicorn. I know what he really is. BoomFuzzy was a horse,” Quaraun turned and pointed to Unicorn. “He's a horse.”
“He's an animal!”
“He's a Unicorn.”
“He's a vile, filthy, perverted monster.”
“BeaLuna, leave him alone!”
Quaraun was yelling now. He was losing his patience with BeaLuna.
“You need him out of your life.”
“He's sick. He needs our help.”
“He's evil.”
“He's not evil.”
“He's a monster, Quaraun.”
“I don't care what he is. I love him.”
“You don't love him, Quaraun. You love the idea of him. You love the fact that he reminds you of BoomFuzzy. You only want him around because he's a shapeshifter and he can be BoomFuzzy for you. He can be BoomFuzzy in bed for you and that's what you really want. He can be anything or anyone you want him to be and you want BoomFuzzy and he's doing that for you. But he's not BoomFuzzy, Quaraun.”
“I don't care, BeaLuna.”
“You should. You should care. He's just using you for sex. He knows how sad you are without BoomFuzzy and he's using that to get in bed with you. He's pretending to be something he's not, so he can take advantage of you.”
“I don't care if he is. I am happy with this. I like this. I like him. I like bedding with him and shouldn't matter to you who I bed with. It's none of your business.”
“I care about you.”
“I know you do. But I'm never going to bed with you. I do not like females and you should know that by now. I'm never going to bed with you BeaLuna, you need to accept that.”
“You shouldn't be bedding with him!”
“BeaLuna...”
“Quaraun what are you gonna do when he dies?”
“He won't die.”
“Yes he will. Quaraun look at him. You said it yourself. He's old. He's sick. He can't get around on his own. We can't travel any more because he can't keep up. You want to end your quest to help people, so we can go out of our way, around the world, to find him a healer.”
“How is that not still me helping someone?”
“Because he's not someone. He's not any one. He's not anything at all. He's just a Phooka. He's a monster, that doesn't deserve to live in the first place. We'd all be better off if you just left him here and let him die.”
“I'm not leaving him behind.”
“Quaraun, he’s a monster. We kill monsters. Fighting monsters is what we do. Normally we’d kill a Phooka. This one got in your head. He’s playing mind tricks on you. He’s pretending to be BoomFuzzy so you won’t kill him. Why can’t you see that? He’s disrupted our lives.”
Quaraun stared at Unicorn who was sitting on the ground, sullen and silent. While he usually joked about these things and tried to laugh at them, the things BeaLuna said to and about him, did hurt his feelings, and these past few weeks he was becoming too ill, too weak, to laugh them off any more. Right now, the Phooka was crying. Quaraun couldn't remember ever having seen Unicorn cry before.
"She do be right," Unicorn whispered hoarsely. "I has disrupted yar life.”
“No,” Quaraun answered. “You haven’t.”
“They hates me un they'll convince ya to leave me behind. No one ever stand by a Phooka long. I is used to it. It is why BoomFuzzy did died. Him could not take it no more. No one ever loves Phooka. We have to hide what we are if we wants to live with others. BoomFuzzy pretended to be Moon Elf, because it were the only way him could enter Elven village without being killit on sight. I has destroyed ya life."
Quaraun knelt beside the old Phooka and hugged him.
"No. You gave my life a meaning. It's alright," said Quaraun as he kissed the Phooka's face. "Don't listen to her. Their words mean nothing to me. Ignore the naysayers, it’s the only way you can make from one day to the next when you are different like we are. I know I’m not smart, but that doesn’t stop people from telling me I’m stupid every chance they can get. You have to learn to turn a blind eye to your pain and a deaf ear to their cruel words. They don’t care how much they hurt others or they couldn’t say the things they do. They think because I’m not smart, I have no feelings to hurt. They think because I don’t cry, I’m not hurting. The people who every day said bad things about BoomFuzzy, where the same ones who every day, said bad things about me. That’s why I liked BoomFuzzy, because he understood my pain. He suffered at the sharp end of their tongues with me. Don’t cry, Unicorn. When you cry, they win. They know they’ve hurt yo. Don’t let them know their words hurt. Just turn around and walk away. That’s what I’ve done my whole life. I learned that as a children, I’d have killed myself, the same way BoomFuzzy did, centuries ago, if I hadn’t taught myself, to ignore pain. Just like BoomFuzzy, the bullies who tease you are the same bullies who tease me. You're the only thing important to me any more. and right now you're sick, we need to find you a healer. Don't worry. I won't leave you behind. I'll never leave you. We both need each other."
Volume 8: Into The Swamp Of Death
Quaraun wakes up in The Mournful Lamb Inn, with no memory of who he is or how he got there. Every one tells him he arrived covered in blood and collapsed, but no one can answer any other questions, save a gargoyle-like beast of a vampire, who tells Quaraun he is dead by suicide and wanders through the Swamp of Death, the holding ground between life and death, heaven and hell. The holding grounds for people too good for hell but too evil for heaven, as well as the place where lost souls wander until they can be set free: The Mournful Lamb being the resting place for murder victims and suicide victims.
Confused and alone, Quaraun tries to leave the inn, only to discover a vast barrier around it prevents any one inside from getting out.
The vampire tells him the only way out is to look into his own memories and seek out the truth: seek for the three friends, who never travelled with you, answer the question: why do always travel alone.
Unlocking his past reveal a horrifying truth: BeaLuna the Gnome, Bullgaar the Dwarf, and BoomFuzzy the Unicorn were never there - figments of his warped imagination or ghosts of the past, he can't tell which, but in all this time no one but Quaraun has ever seen any of them, for they are all ghosts who now haunt their murderer.
TRIGGER WARNING
This novel is about a murder-suicide, in which the suicide victim is found still alive.
This novel contains references to and graphic depictions of cutting, intentional drug overdose, suicide attempts, dismemberment, murder, and beheadings.
Some of these scenes are included in the free-to-read-online sample chapters.
Reader discretion is advised.
Possibly NSFW
BDSM YAOI
TORTURE PORN
BARBED KNOTTING WARNING
This novel contains one of the most graphically detailed and brutally violent CBT barbed-knotting torture/sex/rape scenes of the entire series. No part of this scene is available free-to-read online.
Reader discretion is strongly advised.
NSFW
The sample chapters listed below equal about 1/10th of the novel. No additional chapters will be made available free to read online.
The Mournful Lamb Inn
Everyone Is Dead?
Where Are Your Friends?
The Valley of the Katopas (Part 1)
The Valley of the Katopas (Part 2)
The Witch Massimara Of Mount Yenka
TYPE: Long Novella/Short Novel
WORD COUNT: 61,449 words
PAGE COUNT: 164 printed paperback pages
POINT OF VIEW: third person; Quaraun’s point of view usually; a few times from Unicorn’s
HAPPY EVER AFTER? no, this volume does NOT have a happy ending; character death ending
CLIFFHANGER ENDING: Yes. Sort of. Almost. This volumes ends with a sort of “To Be Continued...” that doesn’t actually continue
CONTINUING SERIAL? Yes; this is volume 8 of 130
INTERRACIAL COUPLES? Yes; a white skinned cross-dressing male Elf and his black skinned male Phooka lover.
Genre: Dark Fantasy > Sword & Sorcery > Bizzarro > Literary
LITERARY FICTION WARNING: This entire series is Slice of Life Vignette Literary Fiction, meaning there’s a lot of dialogue, a lot of talking, a lot of thinking, a lot of monologue, and a lot of emotional introspective, but not much action going on in this heavily character driven series. Each story is a narrow focused look at a single event (often a single day or hour) in Quaraun's life.
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
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.
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Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....
... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.
While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.
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My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since. |
The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.
Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.
Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.
Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.
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The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.  If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 |
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.
Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.
Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.
Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.
In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.
Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.
But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.
I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.
Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.
Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.
I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.
My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.
Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.
Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Important:
Fraudulent sites are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official website for Wendy Christine Allen is www.eelkat.com
Fraudulent social media accounts, particularly on Reddit and FaceBook are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official social media accounts for Wendy Christine Allen are listed in the footer here at www.eelkat.com
Find Me on Social Media:
Any websites and accounts you find online that are NOT on this list are NOT Wendy Christine Allen
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
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If you encounter a page which asks for a password, no, you can not request access. There are over 2k pages of this website set to password access, due to the ongoing FBI investigation into my son's murder. If you are a police officer authorized access these pages but do not have the passwords, let me know, I will deliver the passwords to the specific pages you are allowed to access, to you via the Portland FBI office and you can pick them up from the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation.
Pages where you can find out more information on that:
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What's New (Newly Published or Recently Updated or Edited)
IMPORTANT NOTE: There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
If you are one of (as of December 2025, the now more than ten thousand) daily visitors, who arrive here daily in search of SEO advice, I made this page for you:
The Park Bench Method of Writing
Crazy Woman Just Attacked - No Clue Why or Who She Is
Articles For Writers on How To Write & Publish A Rapid Release Series
For Anyone Looking for:My response to MUFON's Amphibious Aliens? My response to Coast to Coast AMs Arrival in my yard?
Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) Yes, I am aware there are a lot of spelling errors on this site. No, I likely will not be fixing most of them. I have been quadriplegia/paralyzed arms and legs since November 14, 2013; As of 2026, I have regained use of two fully functional fingers on my right hand, and only stiff limited movement of all remained eight fingers. This causes most of the typos and spelling errors as my near-dead pinky and ring fingers tend to drag over the other letters on the keyboard. Attempts to correct errors, often causes more errors for the same reason. Much of my writing is also speech to text, but I have "profound low functioning, non-verbal kanner's syndrome aka autism aka the rainman type" (that is what the medical diagnosis called it), I have the medically diagnosed retarded type of autism, that medical doctors mean when they say "real and actual autism", I do not have the cool trend self diagnoses tiktok type of "autism". What this means is, in spite of five decades of trying, I have very limited vocal speaking abilities and a lower then average vocabulary, that leaves my speaking ability around the level of a 4 or 5 year old child; I do not know math or money or clocks and. I also, was raised by a Shetland Scottish Grandmother (Helen Ricker Allen) until her death when I was 8 years old, and she did not speak American, she spoke Shetland/Scottish, Shetlandic, which is a Nordic language, different from Scotts Language, not related to Gaelic which is what many Scottish speak, and while classified as a type of Scottish English is is considered "Olde medieval Norse" dialect of Scottish English and spoken by fewer then two thousand people as of 2026. It is the language of Scottish Travelling Gypsies, which is what we racial are. I was 31 years old first time I ever heard American English, and only started to learn American English at 42 years old. Right now in 2026 at 51 years old, I am able to speak American English on around the level of an 8 year old child, and greatly do not understand over 90% of American words, American slang, and American media references. What this means is, OFTEN words you think are spellt wrong (like color vs colour, or traveling vs travelling, are in fact NOT spelt wrong, because I use Scottish spellings) and often when I hear an American word, I spell it phonetically because I do not know the correct American spelling. Likewise we Scottish do not have words like my or your, and so say me and you, in places where Americans would say my and your. I also use Scottish word meanings, not American word meanings, for example Unicorn means a blood thirsty flesheating shapeshifting sea creature that comes on land and pretends to be a wounded horse to lure in humans to eat, it can only be captured by a virgin. But when I say Unicorn, a word I frequently use, because I write Unicorn folkloric short stories... I find that most Americans connect Unicorns to children's cartoons, gay pride, or swinging sex lives... I struggle to understand who in their right mind thought the most bloodthirsty monster of Scotland folklore was good fodder for children's cartoons or "sex positive" mascots, me thinks Americans need to brush up on the lore of Unicorns using their horns as sword to stabbed people's eyes out, while gallopping through swamps with rows of bloody Human heads hanging from their backs via braids made of Human entrails... really, why did Americans thinks a monster like a Unicorn was fit for children's cartoons or sex positivity? Americans is weird. All this to say... speech to text software, struggles badly with my thick Shetland accent, my slurred Autism speech impediment, and causes additional misspellings and typos because it can not figure out what words I am trying to say. And while I could take the time time to run all of it through a spell checker, that does require better hand mobility then I have, to copy the text from one program to the next and manually click each word, with finger mobility that I simply do not have, but also, most of my time is spent in trying to relearn to walk, and if you are local, you've probably seen this as I'm a stubborn bitch who refused to accept the doctor disnosis that I will never walk again, so, I walk around the block every day pushing my wheelchair, refusing to sit in my wheelchair, and... ...it's taking me 13 years to do it, but, I'm not actually able to stand up and make it all the way around the block now, and my focus on trying to relearn to walk is far more important to me, then catering to your pampered arse by fixing spelling errors, when there are far bigger problems to worry about in life, the spelling errors made by a quadriplegic who is typing this with her only two functioning fingers. Also, in recent years, I've watched the internet devolve into a mindless clusterfuck of ChatGPT written everything. Everyone sounds the same online these days, because no writes their own work anymore. Every website out there has become a carbon copy of each other, because they are all be written by ChatGPT now. I think ChatGPT makes a funny thing to chat with in your spare time, so you can laugh at the hilarity of how inaccurate it's responses are... but I am horrified that people are using AI for serious writing, writing they publish and try to pass off as their own. We live in a society where people people are forgetting how write. Heck I can read and write cursive, calligraphy, italic, short hand, and editor's marks, also edit my books by hand diagraming every sentence, and that... start walking around your neighbourhood and ask anyone under 30 if they sentence diagraming IS, let alone how to do it. So yes, I CAN spell check, and no I don't, for anything but my novels and short story collections, I spell check when it matters... and this is a website, not a printed book... but also, I am just getting so damn fucking fed up with endless AI writing online, so, no, I'm not going to fix errors and typos on my website, and you can bitch about that all you want (yes, I do get your messages, I just don't answer anyone in private) but, honey, maybe instead of bitching over my spelling errors, be thankful is still at least one website on the internet that still being written by a Human now in 2026 when ChatGPT writes over 70% of all posts online. |
Looking for my annual NaNoWriMo Prompts and Dares? I've been publishing these every year since 2004!
 The Park Bench Method of Writing The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane: Paperpacks & Hardcover Editions on Amazon:
Not sure what the series is about? Check out and Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post and Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers and How well do I know Quaraun? - Let's find out! to find out more about the plot and lore of the series. Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:
Or if after reading those, you still are looking for more free to read stories, there are over three thousand of them on this site, too many to list here, but here a few dozen to get you started... ...you can just jump in and try reading some of the free to read online stories first before committing to buying the books:
Hmmm... soooo... I was making the above list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here, and adding it into the footer of my site, here as you can see, which loads on every page, and then I realized... wait... there are over two thousand Pink Necromancer stories up free to read on my website, I can't put two thousand links on every single page! Whoops! LOL! So, now I'm putting list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here on this page instead and just link that page to the footer instead. But also I'll just leave some of the links in the footer, as you can see above.
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
The Space Dock 13 WebRing
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Yes, this website (founded in 1996) is old enough to have WebRings on it, and they are still in use.
Don't know what a WebRing is?
They were how we webmasters used to get traffic to our websites before the invention of search engines (aka before Jeeves, DogPile, Yahoo. Google, Bing, or the rest existed). In their simplest form a WebRing is an html code that rotates link displays. In their more advanced form they are java scripts that give random results. Each ring had three active links titled "Previous", "Random", and "Next", clicking any of the 3 links would take you to the next website in the ring.
Web Rings are the REASON the internet was called "the world wide web". To use them, each webmaster submitted their site to the ring, a single code held 100 websites, and codes could be stacked to hold 100 code sets (or 10,000 links to 10,000 websites), each web master in the list, would then place the code in the footer of their website.
This created the SPIDER WEB that was the literal WEB OF LINKS that gave the internet it's name "World Wide Web" and is WHY websites are CALLED "web sites". And technically, your site is not a WEB site unless it is connected to a WEBRing, likewise you technically are not a WEBMaster if you do not build WEBrings links for you WEBsite to connect to the WEB.
Unfortunately, most knowledge of WebRings, and whi sites were called WEBsites and sites on the WEB were called the World Wide Web, vanished from the internet in 2014 when the official WebRing.org company who managed 90%+ of the internet's WebRings went out of business after the infamous Google Panda 2013 bot attack that delisted ALL websites from the Google Index if they contained a WebRing of links to other websites in it's footer.
And while most sites abandoned the use of WebRing Codes on their sites, Space Dock 13 did not. The Space Dock 13 WebRing remains active, now 28 years after it's creation. Over the decades however, one by one all the other websites in the ring have gone off line, and as they did, I replaced the url with a link to a page of my own website (as this is a java code - it updated on every website without the others needing to change anything). Today in 2026, eelkat.com is the last remaining website in the ring, and now all 10k links go only to pages on eelkat.com, no longer sending you to other websites.
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The Park Bench Method of Writing
IMPORTANT NOTE:
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
Want even more writing prompts?
Do you have information about my son's murder and need the FBI contact information:
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322
If anyone contacts you saying 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, is for sale, know that they are lying to you... it is my land, and it has been in my family since 1531... and the ONLY person whom has EVER gone around saying it is for sale, is a woman who the FBI believes to be the same woman who murdered my son.
My son is buried here, and the FBI believes she is trying to buy my land in order to destroy his grave and destroy evidence of his murder.
Since my son's murder November 14, 2013, every year dozens of real estate agent show up all with a story of a female developer who is offering them MILLIONS of dollars for my lot of land that is only 1/4 of an acre and is not big enough to develop.
When shown police sketches of my son's murderer, the real estate agents say "Yes, that's the woman who hired me to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine", but then the woman disappears and the real estate agents never hear from her again... all contact information she gave them turns out to be fake.
The woman who murdered my son, is DESPERATELY trying to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... this is the woman to watch out for... and this is what she did:
Looking to find out more about my son's murder, that information is on these pages:
Answering the questions:
Can you give me links to the news reports of your son's murder?
and
Why can't I find any news reports about this?
Maine has well over a thousand murder cases that have never been in the news.
I found this out after my son was murdered November 2013, and a year later I found out it had never been in the news, even though I was hounded for weeks by news people. I went to each of the over a dozen TV stations and newspapers whom had showed up at the hospital and asked why they had never published any report after all the trouble they had gone through to (in some cases illegally) het into the hospital to interview me.
in every case they said some version of "well, it just wasn't news worthy, there was nothing we could use to get views". Really? These were big news stations, channel 13, 6, 8, Portland Press Herald, Bangor Daily...
What exactly was it they claimed was "not news worthy"?
I'll tell you.
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. At Southern Maine Community College in the parking lot of The Buglight Art Studio beside the Spring Point Lighthouse.
I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.
She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.
The attack also triggered labour.
My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.
Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.
The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.
The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.
Oh yeah, and I've been quadriplegic for 13 years.
oh yeah one more thing, same trio, they also found out where i lived in Old Orchard Beach and drove a backhoe over my house as well.
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146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine... July 4, 2013 vs August 8, 2013 |
I have been homeless and quadriplegic for 13 years, and right now it's just a few weeks away from both my son's 14th birthday and the 14th anniversary of the day he was murdered, both of which happened the same day.
Explain to me what about any of that is "not newsworthy"?
I did find out WHY it was deemed not newsworthy. "it would negatively impact tourism" was their reason. The College at Fort Prebble is a tourist destination. The lighthouse at the college is a tourist destination. My house on Portland ave is situated on the primary road to the beach that is a tourist destination.
The news reporters explained to me that, they risked losing their jobs if they publicised "negative news" occurring in these sorts of tourist destination spots.
My son's murder wasn't in the news, because it might cause tourists to stop visiting that lighthouse. That was the reason the reporters gave me.
How often are there things not being reported on just so businesses don't lose tourist money?
How often does this happen? A lot, I've since found out. In trying to find other mothers of murdered children to interact with... I found five others JUST in Old Orchard Beach, whom the murders were not in the news, and all of them happened after my son's murder. I found 2 such mothers in Scarbourogh, their children's murders not in the news. I found over a dozen more in the Bar Harbore area, also all not in the news.
It's a very disturbing trend here in Maine, one that I never would have found out about had my own son not been murdered.
One thing's very clear: in Maine you can get away with murdering a child, if you do it in a big tourist location, because news stations REFUSE to report any crime occurring in tourist locations.
Fuck torists.
I don't give a shit about your precious tourist money.
My son was murdered and I want his killer found... and I am VERY displeased with the deplorable way news stations try to bury child murders in Maine, just to appease tourist funded businesses.
And if you're one of those lunatic jackass bullshitting alien abduction UFO freaks, looking for haunted cars, Stephen King, cryptids, or EBEs, first off, you can go fuck yourselves. I am so damned sick of you conspiracy brained motherfuckers harassing my family and turning my son's murder case into a circus of you psycho deranged bullshit. Here's some pages for you:
Copyright © – oldest articles written 1978, website founded - 1996
This website is a safe zone for LGBTQAI+, pagans, and BIOPIC communities.
This website is a safe zone for LGBTQAI+, pagans, polys, trans, neurodivergent, disabled, mobile aid user, minority, cosplayers, otherkin, furries, & BIOPIC communities.