The Valley of the Katopas
Into The Swamp of Death
(novel excerpt)



By Wendy C Allen
eelkat_red_scarf.jpgWendy 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:

The introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series. 

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:

My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.

As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.

There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.

The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.

There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.

Health update: August 4, 2026 - in recovery for 6 months+ (at least until mid-January 2027...all book and video game releases are pushed back at least 6 months) see video below for why...
@eelkat

health update #maine #disabilityawareness #wheelchairlife #wheelchairvlogger #multiplesclerosis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat Health update: #chickenpox #bellspalsy #RamsayHuntsyndrome #paralysis #recovery ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

I seem to have had another stroke (during the night while I was asleep?) #stroke #paralysis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

Update Sept 3, 2026:

I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.

I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy. 

update sept 7, 2026

"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?

I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.

So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.

see video below for more information: 


@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

update Sept 15, 2026:

I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed

you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?

all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,

well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.

waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.

update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine

Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.

Sample Chapter from:
Quaraun and the Vampire, Into the Swamp of Death
Volume 8 of
The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane

"I hear thunder," Unicorn said as he stopped to listen to the rumbling roar.

Quaraun stopped to listen too. They had trekked across the dry savannah for days. It was nothing but dead dry grass for miles in any direction. Random umbrella trees sprouted up here and there. Outside of the flocks of birds which once in a while flew up out of the grass, they had seen or heard nothing for days. It was like walking across a desert made grass instead of sand. 

Quaraun pricked his long ears to listen to the sounds. The thundering sound was steady and it grew louder, and closer.

"That's not thunder," Quaraun said as he tried to determine the direction the sound was coming from. It seemed to come from all around them.

"What is it then?"

"I don't know. Hooves, I think?"

"Like herd o’ Unicorns, eh?"

"Yes. I suppose."

“There is no more herds of Unicorns,” Unicorn said sadly.

“Perhaps it is horses.”

"That be fucking shit load ton o horses."

"Yes. I think we should run."

"Run? How I supposed to run? I can'na run. I can'na sees. Ya knows I is almost blind. I can'na even sees me hand in front o me face no more. I can barely keep up to follow ya..." 

Quaraun didn't wait to listen to the Phooka's protest, he just grabbed Unicorn by the arm and ran towards the nearest tree, dragging the startled Faerie behind him. Moments later Quaraun and Unicorn were both up in the tree and not a moment too soon as a massive herd of wild beasts of burden came tumbling over the hill and filling the land around them. 

"What is dey?" Unicorn asked.

"Katopas. Millions of them. It must be a migrating herd. I've never seen so many. The herd has to be at least a mile wide. They're like locusts. There won't be a blade of grass left once they've made their way through. It's a plague of bloody katopas."

Quaraun and Unicorn watched the herd as it went by. The large shaggy brown beasts sauntered slowly through the fields, grazing on the tall green grass as they went, others galloping on ahead.

"What is Katopa?" Unicorn asked Quaraun.

"It's like a cow only bigger and not domesticated. Almost as fast as a slow moving gazelle."

"Dey horns is huge."

"They are."

"Where did dey comes from?"

"Migrated from Zantania, probably. That's not far from here. I hear the grass lands are burning over there. Quite out of control. The animals are probably running ahead of the fire."

"Dair be so many of them."

"Yes, it's quite large herd. I suspect we are seeing multiple herds, banded together. Which would indicate the fires have spread are bigger then I had last heard. And unfortunately, we're gonna have to go through them."

"Fires?"

"Yes."

"How comes that, eh?"

"Because we are headed for the home of Massimara on Mount Yenka, in Baironi which borders the great plains of Zantania and there are no roads around it."

"Can ya eats 'em?"

"What?"

"Katopas. Can ya eats them?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm an Elf. I don't eat meat."

“Yi ate ya father.”

“That was different.”

"Yis a Elf of strange morals, ya know that does ya not, eh? Ya will no kill an animal to eat and survive, but ya tinks nothing of killing man and cutting his heart out or ripping his head off for some silly black arts ritual. Ties up ya lover. Puts him on a alter. Cut hims heart out..."

"Unicorn, I said I was sorry. I don't know what else to do, to prove how sorry I am. I should not have done that to you. I truly am sorry. I wish I could go back and not do it. Will you ever trust me again?"

"Ya tried to cut me heart out. It's going to take a while for me to trust ya agains."

"I know. I'm sorry. I’m so very sorry."

"Ya does not have have to keep saying yis sorry. I know yis, I would no be wid ya right now if I did'na. I do believe yis sorry and will na try to kill me agains. Except yis insane and I is na sure I can turn me back on ya yif ye have another one of yar psycho crazy out of yar head experiences agains."

"Yes, I think you can eat Katopas," Quaraun answered Unicorn's question, hoping to get the Phooka off the topic of Fire Mountain. "They are like cows and Humans and Dwarves eat cows. And of course, you're a Phooka, you will eat anything..."

"Except a Dwarf, terrible tasting beasts, Dwarves is."

"Except a Dwarf. You won't eat Dwarves..."

"Or Orcs or trolls."

"Or Orcs or trolls. So I don't see why you wouldn't also eat a Katopa."

"I does not really like cows. Not much flavour. Not like Wood Elves. Or Moon Elves. Such a delicate flavour. Nothing tastes like Elf blood. It's been so long since I has eaten an Elf."

"World seems to be running short of Elves these days."

"Yis an Elf."

"And you're not eating me."

"I does not want to eat ya. I want to bite ya and drink yar blood."

"Unicorn. I'm the only one around who can protect you. I'm the only one on the entire planet, who even wants to protect. Pretty much everyone wants you dead. And you can't see to fight. And I can't protect you, if I'm passed out because you drained me of my blood."

"Oh pooh. Yis the best tasting thing for miles."

Unicorn sighed. He knew Quaraun spoke the truth. It was hard for the old Phooka to hunt for game now that his eyesight was so dim. He couldn't actually see the herd of Katopas. He had heard them coming, thought is was thunder, and would have been trampled by them had his companion not suddenly grabbed him and climbed up into the only tree for many acres.

The one single solitary tree hung like a twisted green umbrella in the middle of a vast plain which stretched to the horizon for miles in either direction. The Phooka had gotten a close up look at a Katopa just as it was about to lazily stampede over him. He could tell their vast number by the thundering hooves kicking up the dust as they passed through.

Unicorn was an old Faerie, ancient beyond remembering. He had stopped counting the years at least 500 years ago and he had counted as many years before deciding keeping track of his age was a pointless endeavour. He had long ago forgotten his real name and his people called him Unicorn because he was a shape shifting trickster illusionist Faerie and when not in his mostly humanoid form, he galloped around in the form of a black fire breathing Unicorn. His true form was a tiny black pony who's fur had long ago turned grey. A Phooka was a flesh eating water horse, a relative to the Kelpie, kin to a Unicorn and often mistaken for a Unicorn.

Quaraun and Unicorn were the exact opposites in so many ways, in both appearance and lifestyle. The Phooka, in his current form, was as black as the Elf was white. Unicorn dressed in wild tattered black garb, wrapped in black furs, his frizzy hair matted into a mess of unbrushed dreadlocks stuck full of twigs, while Quaraun wore elaborate robes of heavily embroidered pink silks. Unicorn looked fierce, wild, crazed, and dangerous. Quaraun looked calm, polite, aristocratic and elegant.

Most people, upon meeting the duo shrunk in fear from the wild haired Phooka with his fearsome piranha like fangs and huge razor sharp black eagle-taloned claws. And yet most people felt safe in the presence of the calm, friendly looking albino wizard, with smooth silken white hair, and icy silvery pale light blue eyes.

But to fear the Phooka and trust the Elf would have been foolish folly, for the Phooka was more or less harmless. Usually. He talked a good show and could be very fierce and menacing if he wanted to be, but it was often a bluff, as Unicorn was a peaceful creature who only killed for food. Usually. There were times, when he reverted back to his current true form, that of a Lich horse, and froze everyone around him in a Lich-crazed fury, for buried deep in Unicorn’s soul, was the Lich that Quaraun was struggling to keep under control: The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, leader of the Lich Lord’s and all that remained of Quaraun’s former lover, BoomFuzzy.

As long as the Lich was dormant, Unicorn was harmless. As long as Quaraun was near by to keep the spell he’d cast in check, Unicorn's memories of his past were kept suppressed and Unicorn had no knowledge he was a Lich and thus Unicorn was harmless.

The serial killing Moon Elf on the other hand, with his calm quiet demeanour, held locked away in his boiling seething soul an evil darkness forever growing darker with each new life he took. Quaraun was a Necromancer and murderer and he had killed many.

The two had been lovers, inseparable partners, bonded mates. But the Phooka was a trickster Faerie, prone to endless jokes and teasing and the Elf a sensitive and damaged creature, tripping on the edge of his breaking point and one day, the bickering between them had gotten out of hand, and the Elf's short temper over the Faerie's endless pranks, reached a boiling point that resulted in Quaraun tying his Fae lover to an altar and nearly sacrificing him to an evil deity.

Quaraun had critically wounded the Phooka, slicing his throat and attempting to cut out his heart. Unicorn almost died and was many weeks recovering. It was difficult to kill a Lich, but Unicorn was between regenerations and living not in his indestructible Lich body, but rather in his weak physical body. While the Lich body could not be destroyed, the physical body could be, if one knew the proper ritual to separate the Lich from it's body, and Quaraun did know how to do such and thing.

Unicorn now lived in fear of Quaraun, not remembering that he was a Lich, but knowing that Quaraun had tried to sacrifice him. Poor Unicorn, without his memories of Lichdom, did not know why it was that Quaraun had tied him to the altar and slit his throat.

Quaraun, truly was sorry that he had let his temper get the better of him and regretted how close he'd come to murdering his beloved friend. Everyone told him, that he was insane, and after what had happened on Fire Mountain, Quaraun was starting to believe it. He felt like he was fast losing control of his mind and the things his mind made him do.

The Phooka had fled and the two remained separate for many months. The Faerie lived in mortal terror that the Elf would hunt him down and kill him. Quaraun did hunt him down, to beg Unicorn's forgiveness. Unicorn had been deathly ill, and Quaraun had saved his life. The two had begun to travel together again, but the damage was done. The Phooka now feared the Elf and the closeness between them was gone.

BeaLuna's harsh words throughout this trip, had made it hard on both Quaraun and Unicorn. Both longed for the other, but both were hurting and needed time to heal. BeaLuna had seen the couple and the wedge that was between them, and took advantage of their pain, to try to make that pain worse and hopefully drive them farther apart. It had done the opposite however. BeaLuna's harsh words had softened the hearts of both lovers and brought them closer together. And while Unicorn still feared the Elf, Quaraun was now realizing that he loved Unicorn even more then he had loved BoomFuzzy.

"I miss being with you."

"I know ya do. I not ready to let ya that close to me agains yet."

"Unicorn, I'm so sorry."

"I know. But I does not trust ya and what ya want, takes a great deal of trust on my part. I'll's sleep wid ya and fuck ya, but I will na bond wid ya agains. A Phooka will only do that wid a bonded mate. Someone they can trust wid their life. I is me most vulnerable then. It takes all of me energy from me. Weakens me. I can'na maintain an illusion then. Ya see me then as I really am. It puts me completely at yar mercy. So close to ya, at a time when I can'na escape and me guard is down, and it'd take nothing for ya to kill me then. I trusted ya before. I had no trouble letting me guard down, letting ya see what I truly am, putting me life at yar mercy. I trusted ya then, that is why I did it. I trusted ya and ya tried to kill me. I does not trust ya now. I can'na give ya want ya what, not without that trust."

"Will you ever trust me again?"

"I does no know."

"What do I have to do?"

"I does not know. Quite a lot I suspect. Ya do be insane Quaraun. Ya can'na control that Thullid in ya head. Ya lose ya temper, ya let it take control and ya start killing people around ya and I does no tinks ya knows ya does it.”

“I don't want to hurt any body.”

“I knows ya does'na. Quaraun the Elf would never hurt a soul. He be too weak, to timid, too scared of his own shadow. But Quaraun the Elf is losing the battle for control of his body, and Quaraun the Thullid is taking over. Quaraun the Elf is not dead yet, he be still fighting to live, but he fighting a losing battle. I wish there were a way to remove that parasite from you head, but it can'na be done without killing ya, and leaving it in there, ya best friends are forced to watch helplessly as ya die, but ya body lives on controlled by an alien beast, which none of us will be able to bring ourselves to kill, because it lives in ya body, and we love ya too much to hurt ya.”

“You love me, but you do not trust me.”

“I can'na. Ya slit my throat. Ya gutted my belly. Quaraun, ya nearly killed me dead. I is ya precious BoomFuzzy and ya tried to kill me.” 

“I'm sorry. I don't know what happened to me.”

“I know ya does'na. That be the problem. Ya body has been taken over by a Thullid. Ya be a Thullid spawnling. Un now yis starting to act like one. Un ya tried to kill BeaLuna. Ya love BeaLuna.”

"What does it take to gain back your trust?"

“I'd've to believe that it was safe for to let me guard down in yar presence. I'd've to believe I could trust ya not to kill me. I need to know that ya will not kill me while I is vulnerable and weak. I does not feel safe wid ya any more."

"You are always vulnerable and weak now."

"I know." The Phooka began crying. "I used to be so strong. When I was young, ya never would have been able to overpower me. No one could. I had the strength of armies. Un now look at me. I can'na even escape from ya. I is so old. I want to be young agains. I has lost me strength and I can'na see. Un me hearing is going now. Me world is going dark and soon it will be silent as well. Un me whole life I has been alone. Rejected by every one. Hurt by so many people. Betrayed. Unwanted. Unloved. Un then I found ya. Un I thought I could trust ya. Un then ya turned on me too. Ya tried to kill me. Now I is alone agains, wid no one I can trust."

"You're not alone, Unicorn."

"I feel alone."

Quaraun turned away from the Phooka and stared out over the Katopas again. His heart was breaking more with each passing day. He wished more then anything that he could undo the damage he had done to their relationship. Once upon a time Quaraun and Unicorn had been lovers. Deep. Close. The bond between them was great, but now it was broken. They were lovers still, on some level, but the former closeness between them was gone. A bitter gap of mistrust hung between them now. Quaraun had tried to murder Unicorn, an act he now deeply regretted and would have done anything to erase. Unicorn had fled and it had not been easy for Quaraun to track him down. 

Unicorn was only travelling with Quaraun now, because he had been close to death when Quaraun had found him. After Fire Mountain, Unicorn had sunk into a deep depression and stopped eating. He'd been several weeks without food when Quaraun found him. Quaraun had nursed him back to health, but he never fully recovered and remained desperately weakened and still fearful of the Thullid infested Elf.

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 Beginning of the End


The Witch Massimara Of Mount Yenka


Psychotic Dead Things


Six Days Earlier


There is no Mournful Lamb Inn


The Swamp of Death


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.





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Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻
eelkat_red_scarf.jpg

Wheelchair Fundraiser

@eelkat

i just found out there is yet another bizarre rumour going around. where are these wild rumours coming from? who is starting them? and why?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

since I've been flooded with hundreds of messages the past two weeks asking if I still own "the world's most haunted car", yes, and here it is, filmed today May 18, 2026… but my son Xavier is dead, i am crippled and given that people are AGAIN showing up calling my Dodge "haunted", calling my friend "an alien", calling me "transgender", and spreading wild defamation slander connecting me to Stephen King, I think I need to start taking down the contact information of every blogger, podcaster, youtuber, and social media account spreading these rumors, and sue every single one of them for CAUSING my car to be cut in half May 10, 2010, for CAUSING the backhoe that drove over my house August 8, 2013, for CAUSING my son's murder November 14, 2013, for CAUSING me to be crippled and in a wheelchair November 14, 2013, and for CONTINUING to CAUSE harassers to show up in person to harass me near daily, STILL now in 2026. EVERYONE telling you my car is haunted, telling you my friend is an alien, calling my car "the goldeneagle", calling my friend "Etiole", or trying to connect me or my car to Stephen King, is lying to you. They crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, and 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 identified the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club and the FBI believes that it is friends and family of the woman who did it, are the ones who started and spread the rumors saying my car is haunted, saying I'm an alien abductee, saying all kinds of similar bs about aliens, ufos, ghosts, witchcraft, demons, and Stephen King connections, even though I don't believe in ghosts, aliens, ufos, demons, and had never heard of Stephen King before 30k of his fans showed up in my yard trying to find my car! FBI believes the backhoe driver and the murderer are the same person and it is a developer who wanted my land and so started the Stephen King, ghost, and alien rumors all in an attempt to drive me off my land, and when it didn't work they drove a backhoe over my house, and when that didn't work they crippled me and killed my son. Why are they doing this? How do I get them to stop?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author






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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.

eelkats_house_before_after.jpgMy 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.

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.

Clairescreenshot.pngIf 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.

zzzz999ClaireRed2016-screenshotIf 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.

Kendrascreenshot.pngIf you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.

Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.

Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.

Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.

In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.

Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.

But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.

I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.

Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.

Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.

I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.

My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.

Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.

Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

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