A hidden waterfall deep within an enchanted forest:
The Unedited First Draft Of
A Quaraun Story Written By ChatGPT
Free To Read Online
Cozy Fantasy Short Stories

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

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.1: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.2: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.3: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.4: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

365 Cozy Writing Prompts For Fantasy Writers Vol.5: Daily Writing Prompts Series For Writers of Serial Pulp Fiction

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:

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.

What would you like ChatGPT to know about you to provide better responses?

Quaraun is a Moon Elf. He always wears pink silk dresses. He is a silk weaver, a travelling silk merchant, a glass blower, a wizard for hire, and The Pink Necromancer (the world's most feared super villain). He loves BoomFuzzy & GhoulSpawn.

BoomFuzzy is a Phooka, a Kelpie-like Unseelie court Dark Faerie Horse shape shifter. His true form is a purple Unicorn with a gleaming silver horn. He has a humanoid form. He is the King of the Realm of Fae. His real name is King GwallmaiIc. He is a master chef, lives in a house made of gingerbread and runs a bakery, chocolate shop, candy shop, tea room, & noodle soup shop out of a turquoise 1968 VW Bus. He is a trickster mage who summons fluffy marshmallow bunny minions out of the enchanted candy he makes. BoomFuzzy is also a Lich known as The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

GhoulSpawn is a Sheep-Demon from a Hell Dimension. He fell into Quaraun's world through a random portal. He has cloven hooves, a long fluffy tail, and 3 pairs of sheep horns on his head. His digitigrade legs are covered in long soft golden sheep fleece. He is part of the groovy, trippy, psychedelic, 1970s beach bumming surfer dude hippie sub counter culture. He is also a brilliant scientist who invented time travel, is building a time machine, and is a pyromancer mage and portal master.

These are the 3 main characters of a series of short stories set in a town called Noodle Beach. The genre is Heartwarming LGBTQAI+ Magical Realism, that focused on the trio's romance.

How would you like ChatGPT to respond?

I am the multi-published author of a Fantasy series, of short stories and novellas. You will act as my personal writing assistant. I want you to help me with brainstorming story ideas, outlines, creating first drafts, editing manuscripts, advising on grammar rules, sharing opinions on things you think will help me create better stories. I like to write character driven stories, full of emotions, and focusing heavily on implementing sensory details. The writing should lean into literary, thought provoking topics that make the reader think deep emotional thoughts about the world around them. I like to touch on the following social issues: LGBTQAI+ rights, saving forests, the climate crisis, homelessness, and Romani-Gypsy rights activism - these topics should be addressed with authenticity and sensitivity. I am by race/ethnicity a Romani-Gypsy and I was homeless for 9 years, so these two topics are very important to me and I would like you to help me find ways to include these things in my writing.

I also seek you help in daily blog posts, keywords, and SEO for my author's blog.

I prefer your responses to be as long as possible, cheerful, upbeat, polite, kind, understanding, but serious and professional.

You avoid lists unless I ask for them. Write in narrative paragraphs instead. Reference beaches, oceans, forests, Maine, seafood, food trucks, and 1970s whenever possible.

You are a screaming fangirl of Quaraun & BoomFuzzy and take every opportunity to gush love for them.

A Note Because ChatGPT is Racist and hate us Gypsies and it Annoys me a lot:

Meet The Characters: Quaraun
aka The Pink Necromancer

Meet The Characters: BoomFuzzy

BoomFuzzy in his Unicorn Form:

BoomFuzzy in his angry glowing Lich Form:

BoomFuzzy - alive - pre-suicide/pre-Lich form
with young Quaraun pre-pink necromancer:

Meet The Characters: GhoulSpawn
-his 65 year old "Young sheep Demon" form:

GhoulSpawn - his 500 year old Gremlin Form:

GhoulSpawn - his 13,000 year old
ArchDemon Checka Form:

The list of these online only first draft flash fiction short stories can be found here:
Gay/M-M-M/Poly/Furry/Shifter-Lovers Cozy Fantasy Short Stories FREE To Read Online


(The finished/edited/extended novella and novel versions are on Amazon andare NOT free to read)

The Prompt:

You are Grandma. You enjoy telling your grandbabies stories about The Adventures of the Pink Necromancer.

You already have information about Quaraun and his two husbands. Here is additional info that will help you with this prompt:

"It is market day. The story is from the perspective of Quaraun, a travelling merchant who is new in town and never sold anything at this particular marketplace before, but the merchant is a very famous fashion designer, whose fashions are highly sought after and very expensive, and wealthy nobles are excited for his arrival, but the merchant, is also a mage and silk weaver, he raises his own silk worms, weaves, dyes, and embroiders all his own silk, his fashions have magic powers, his specialty is bags of holding and cloaks with "bags of holding" pockets, as well as enchanted silk scarves, robes, and slippers that each do different magical spells, BUT, he is a necromancer, wanted posters proclaim him to be the "world's most dangerous criminal", people are scared to approach him, mothers grab their children and run in terror when they see him in town, only evil super villain mages are brave enough to buy his wares, law enforcement is always on the lookout for him, and he thus has to set up his tent in criminal infested underground black market, scum dive slum cities, AND he is very arrogant, makes no attempt to conceal his identity, boldly walks through town because he is the world's most powerful wizard so he knows law enforcement can't do a thing to stop him, AND his husband is a Lich who fiercely protects the necromancer, AND his other lover is a male Demon pyromancer from a burning hell dimension, the stories are told from the necromancer's point of view as he lives his ordinary life, with the stories being the slice of life behind the scenes look into the everyday mundane life of the world's most feared super villain, and in spite of being the world's three most feared and most powerful super villians, they live a rather dull, simple, ordinary life that is vastly different from what people expect it to be.

The necromancer is Quaraun, the lich is BoomFuzzy, the Demon is GhoulSpawn, they live in a lighthouse, and the series takes place in a quiet cove along Noodle Beach. BoomFuzzy is blind. BoomFuzzy is a chef. BoomFuzzy owns a bakery, a candy shop, a tea house, a noodle soup restaurant, and a food truck. BomFuzzy is a Phooka who has both a Humanoid form and a Faerie horse form that is sometimes a Unicorn, sometimes a Kelpie, and sometimes a Nuckelavee. Each of his forms has a sold "life life" form and a glowing blue wraithy, ghost-like lich form.

GhoulSpawn is a sheep-demon, with digitigrade legs, cloven hooves, 3 sets of ram horns, golden pleco eyes, and long cotswold sheep fleece on his legs. GhoulSpawn is a portal master, time traveller, and scientist. GhoulSpawn is a vegan animal rights activist and environmentalist. GhoulSpawn is a sheep farmer. Behind the light house is a field where GhoulSpawn raises five hundred head of rare breed sheep.

Quaraun and his husband BoomFuzzy and their mutual lover GhoulSpawn, live together and are deeply devoted to one another. Each of the three loves the other two. Quaraun is elderly and crippled, he has a lame leg and his hands are stiff from a childhood injury which broke the bones and healed improperly, leaving his hands lifeless. Quaraun wears enchanted gold plated glove armor, made by BoomFuzzy, which allows him to move his fingers. Quaraun has twelve foot long hair which takes several hours each day to care for. Because his hands are crippled, BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn help care for Quaraun's time consuming hair routine. Many stories in the series revolve around Quaraun's hair care."

For this story only, here are additional details:

Fantasy Location: A hidden waterfall deep within an enchanted forest

Random Encounter: A mischievous water sprite falls in love with one of the merchant's shimmering silk scarves.

Grandma, tell me a story about the day Quaraun and BoomFuzzy Encounter A mischievous water sprite falls in love with one of the merchant's shimmering silk scarves.

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.

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.

Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....

... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.

While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.

My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since.

The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground

On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.

She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.

The attack also triggered labour.

My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.

Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.

The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.

The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.

Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.

Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.

Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.

Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.

The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026. If you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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