The Goldeneagle

Hello! I am a 1964 Dodge 330 4-door sedan, VIN 4142216364, my name is The Goldeneagle. This site was created by my owner Wendy C. Allen of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, to save my life.

I am the main character of the original Twighlight Manor book, and a major supporting character of more that 30 other books and short stories by Maine author Wendy C. Allen.

I started out in life as a silver undercover Police car in Maine. In 1975 I retired from my job as a police car and was sent to Marcotte Motors of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where I was painted gold by some fool with a paint brush. He totally ruined my lovely silver paint job and left me streaked with brush lines. I was only there a few months before I was bought by the Allen family, who sanded me down and painted a lovely shade of metallic orange.

I remained the faithful family chauffeur for the next ten years. Together we drove on many road trips throughout the North East. In 1978, I took them to New York where we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge during it's major repair construction. That same year we went to Washington D.C. I took the Allen family to Arcadia in Bar Harbor to see The Thunder Hole in 1981. Every year I drove them to New Hampshire where we visited The Old Man on the Mountain and Story Land and The Swift River. Three times I climbed Mt. Washington.

I've brought home puppies and baby chickens. I waited in hospital parking lots and veterinary clinics. I remained forever and always a faithful friend. The only friend who was always there, steadfast and unmovable, silent and nonjudgmental. My red plush seats always there like a shoulder to cry on when no one else would lend and ear or a shoulder. I alone remained to one true friend, the only friend to the child who loved me and defend me when no one else would put up with my break downs and failures.

Over the years I grew old and tired, my engine weak and my transmission failing. My last trip was a desperate trip to the hospital, one dark and stormy night in 1985 when a hurricane flooded the town, sending the Atlantic Ocean over the Pier and up Maine Street. My last trip came when ambulances could not ride faster than my Mopar engine and Mrs Allen had to be rushed to the hospital at 3AM. We speed through Old Orchard faster than ever before, through hurricane floods that went higher than my door panels seeping water into my interior and flooding my floors, filling my transmission and engine with icy salt water, we made it to the hospital with Mrs. Allen, but I did not make it back home on my own and was towed home by a friend's little VW Rabbit.

In spite of my loyalty, with a dead transmission and an engine full of salt, I was useless, and parked in the yard, put up for sale for junk.

I was rescued from a trip to the junk yard in 1985 by 9 year old, Wendy C. Allen, after my trans died. Since 1985 I have remained a decoration on the hill in her rose garden, where she sits in my seats or on my hood to write the stories in which I appear. Without me, she can not write these stories for I am the one that inspires them. I have been happy in my life of peace and rest here in Old Orchard Beach these past 30 years. That has now changed.

New town ordinances and zoning laws have been set in Old Orchard Beach. As a result the police, the code enforcement officers, and the town manager are now in attempt to see my death and destruction, with threats of stealing me from my rightful owner and sending me to become scrap metal in the junk yard.

This is an outrage! They well not listen to reason.

My profile now comes to you to spread the word and ask for your help in saving my life. An entire network of websites devoted to my plight are now in the works and links to them well be added here within the next few hours.

Please join the protest and put an end to the Old Orchard Beach reign of terror. Old Orchard Beach is a town not a dynasty, they have no right to take me from my home and kill me!



PLEASE DON'T LET THEM KILL ME!!!!!

(NOTE: This originally appeared here: http://www.myspace.com/savethegoldeneagle)

Q. Your experience being homeless. It's gotten a lot of publicity the past few months and has resulted in your being asked to write a book about . . . uhm . . . aliens? I believe the book is about how the general public treats alien abductees after finding out the person is an abductee. Is that correct? Is that what started this whole thing? You claimed to be an alien abductee and people went into hysterics over it? Can you explain this?

EelKat: I'm not an abductee, no, but yes, it was an alien who caused the mass religious hysteria. This whole this got going big time after the Twilight Books came out, and caused some people to remember my old Twighlight Manor books. It was my Twighlight Manor books that caused the problem. Etiole Swanzen, the silver skinned alien merman, who is the main character of the series. He's the problem. He's not a fictional character, and that bothers people. A lot. Back when I first started writing the Twighlight Manor books in the 1970's and 1980's they were straight up non-fiction retellings of my conversations with "The White Monkey" as I referred to him back than. The harassment started way back than, but it was just one or two people at church than, mostly just telling me that I needed to stop going into the woods and spending so much time talking to an "imaginary friend".

I didn't know what Etiole was back than. He wasn't Human, I knew that much. For about 20 years, I just called him a Faerie, because, well, I had no knowledge of aliens back than. In fact, it was only suggested to me in the past 3 years, that he may very well be an alien.

Well, in 1993, I took all of my old non-fiction stories about him and rewrote them into the 1993 edition of Friends Are Forever. That's when things got bad at church. My bishop, read some of it, and just completely freaked out. He said only a madman would write the stuff I had written. He's the one who said I had schizophrenia. For 3 years, he told every one in our church that. As the years went by, however, weird things started happening to him and his family, or so he said, and he started saying that I was a Witch and had put a curse on him. That's when other church members started freaking out, cause they believed him.

Than one day my bishop started saying that he now believed me. He was now positive Etiole was real, only he said Etiole was a demon sent from Hell to kill us all. The guy totally flipped out. He started saying my car was possessed with a demon and he's the one who got people wanting to destroy my car. A lot of the members say my car is haunted, they all have different theories, but they all pretty much came to the conclusion that if they sent my car to the junk yard it would "end the curse". I never was really sure what curse it was that Etiole was supposed to have put on them. They were not making any sense any more.

I wouldn't let them in the yard. I wouldn't let them take my car. That's when they started the thing with the paint balls and the death threats stuck in our front door. I stopped going to church after that, because, I really thought these people were hysterical enough to try to hurt me, and as it turns out they were. Someone, I never found out who, dumped oil in our brook and killed all of our ducks. There have been several occasions where people have stolen parts off of my car, I guess they plan to take it away one piece at a time or something. We used to have this big old barn from the 1800's, but they came in with a bulldozer and knocked it down in 2002. The police looked into it and the state police got involved, and the next thing I knew we had ABC News reporters in our yard wanting to know what had happened. We ended up on the front page of the local newspapers, because of it. I hated that. It was the newspaper articles, I think, that really set the church members off though, because the reporters had gone to church to interviews various church leaders and members as well, and they got really pissed off about. That's when they town manager of Old Orchard Beach got involved. He was a member of our church, and he said I had caused the town and the church to get a lot of bad publicity. Well, they shouldn't bulldozed our barn. If they hadn't taken the barn down, we would not have called the police, and the police would not have called the state police, and the state police would not have contacted the reporters. But that's when the town manager fired all non-church members of his council and than replaced them all with church members who he knew would help him, get me out of town.

Here's the thing, our town was settled in 1881, but my family (Native American I might add) have been living on this land since 1657. It's the oldest land in Maine to still be owned by the original family. So while he was making laws to force us out, none of his laws applied to us, because of Maine's "grandfather law" which states that families living here long enough, do not have to change with the new laws. One of the laws he changed was to un-list Old Orchard from a "rural zone" and change it to a "business/residential zone". LOL! We got a poultry farm in a business area now because of it. Because the farm had been here for well over 300 years the change in zoning was null and void on our land. He even created a law which states: "no growing of vegetation", in an attempt to stop us from growing vegetables, but again, that law went null and void too, because the gardens have been here over 300 years.

In the end, the town manager turned to the bishop for what to do, and the story of my believing in aliens resurfaced, along with the story that Etiole, was not an alien, but rather a demon living in my car. That's when the town saw an onslaught of weird laws about cars, including one that states "you may not own more than one car per property owned". This one got half the town in an uproar when they tried to enforce it by towing people's cars right out of their driveways, saying that they owned too many cars. Among the cars they took, included my mom's Buick, my dad's Oldsmobile wagon, my dad's pick up truck, and my dad's farm car affectionaly named by church members as "666 OED" (Old Evil Devil). In the end, they took every single one of the cars in our driveway and junked them. Funny thing about this was, that the car in question, the one supposedly demon possessed, my 1964 Dodge 330, is in my rose garden where I use it as a garden seat/decoration and can not be seen from the road; in fact it is so well hidden that it can't even be seen by NASA or Google satellites either (I checked)! LOL! So they took all of our cars thinking that they had taken care of the problem, but left behind the one car that they were trying to get rid of. LOL! OMG, these people are freaking insane. I can't believe they took our cars. Well, thing was, they took a lot of people's cars. Dozens of families all over town were waking up to find their cars had been junked.

We have 12,000 people in our town, and only 375 of them are members of our church, and well, once the town manager started changing laws and doing all this weird stuff, all of the 11,7000 people that were not members of the church, started asking questions, and before long the FBI got called in to investigate the town manager. That's when we found out about him having fired every one and replaced them with church members. The investigation went on for about 6 months, and than the newspapers started telling us about other things: embezzlement of city funds, secret town council meetings held out side of the town hall, tax money being used to fund the town manager's own agendas. It was a mess. Than the investigations went farther, and reporters announced that our town, Old Orchard Beach, was the fourth town that this man had down this too! The investigation lead to a background check, and it was found out that the town manager had been run out of three towns out West, for the very same reasons! Today, the town manager and all of his church appointed council have been fired on grounds of fraud.

Me? I'm back off the streets again. I still have my "demon possessed" car which was the focus of much of the fuss, and I still spend much of my time, in the woods, in the company of a creature of debatable origin. Faerie? Alien? Demon? I don't know and I don't care. But yes,, I've talked about Etiole for 30 years now, and it has been the cause of people's reaction to me. My refusal to deny his existence, ultimately was the tap-root of the problem which caused people to do the things they did which resulted in my becoming homeless, and resulted in reporters writing articles, and well, resulted in the request that I write a book about Etiole, the real Etiole, not the fictional Twighlight Manor version of him, and to tell how people reacted and reacted violently and out of well, their fear of aliens.

I have an older website about what was going on and on it was a blog which was updated daily, and contained every single act of vandalism and violence as it was happening. On that web site was also a list of the names and mailing addresses of every one involved in this, along with a request to help by protesting what they were doing. That's how the FBI got involved, someone reading my site contacted them. I have no idea who it was, but thanks to them, the vandalism stopped in the Fall of 2008 and since that time there has been no farther attempts to destroy my car. They destroyed my property. They killed my pets. They burned down our home. All because of a car. Why? Why did these people think they were justified in their actions? By their own claims they said they were "doing the will of God". Were they? Does God really request such violence from his followers or was that just their cop-out excuse?

In a word, I guess you could say that their attempt to junk my car, backfired in their faces, and it backfired big time.

The Goldeneagle by Wendy C. Allen
by
eelkat

Get this custom print at Zazzle



The Goldeneagle by Wendy C. Allen
by
eelkat

Get this custom print at Zazzle

My first response is praise. I love to know I did something good, made someones day, or otherwise made a difference in the world. It inspires me to try to do more and be better next time.

Money is not much of a motivator to me, never has been. An example of that would be in the late 1980's when someone offered me $5,000 cash for my car. I turned them down. That car has been in my family since it was new, he is part of family now, I will never sell him. A few weeks ago, yet another man, came up to me and asked, "How much money would it take to get you to sell that car?"... my answer was this ... "If you paid me 12 million cash for that car, I'd turn around and use the entire 12 million to buy it back, money has no value to me, other than the things I could buy with it, and when I already have the thing I'd buy with the money, why would I sell that thing to get more money, just so I would have to buy it back?"

Praise works wonders on me. Money, does nothing for me.

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