JUNKIE by: Zombie Zane

Heya! Zombie Zane here. Just wanted to let you know that Sasha and I will be back with all new shit next week. So in the meantime, we're re-posting some of our shit from the archives. For those that have followed since the beginning, you shit outta luck. But for you new readers that haven't read our old shit, happy day for you!

Anyway, this post is a little thing I did. Maybe its flash fiction, maybe not. But whatever. So, yeah, I wrote this a while back and decided to re=post it. Here's my short story, 'The Junkie.' Enjoy and we'll see ya on the flip side.

Kurt Jacobs hunkers on the third step of the Hollow Oak Apartments, scrawny knees
tucked up against his emaciated body, insides burning and wrenching.


He’s sick. Junkie sick. There is only one conceivable way to eradicate his sickness and that’s one more fix.
Just one more.


Living in a junkies world, on the corner of east hell and two blocks from south suffering, Kurt Jacobs is all to aware where this road will end.

He rocks and trembles with excruciating cramps but he needs to venture out into the cold night and search for the one thing that will ease his anguish. And that means he is going to need all of what little strength remains in his broken down body. The quest could be perilous.


If he doesn’t acquire his drug, he will waste away. His last meal was a box of cold fried rice from a Chinese take out place that he can’t remember the name of.


"I need it. I need it so fucking bad. This is killing me and driving me bat shit, but I need it. And I don’t care, I gotta have it." He whispers to himself.


At 6'2 and 100 pounds, Kurt Jacobs is a mere shell of the man he was once was. At one time, he tipped the scales at 230. His pale face and dark sunken eyes tell the tale. A junkies tale.

Just ten days ago he was sitting on his designer sofa watching his beautiful wife play with their beautiful son. All was right in the world. All was right until he met her. The bitch and whore that took his life, his mind, his soul, his everything. Took it not by force, but took it by invite.

Traveling with empty pockets and a rapidly debasing mind, Kurt will hit the streets in search for his drug. His drug is a woman named Mara. Mara is a vampire.


He wants to see her he says over and over as he walks the streets.

Maybe he can will himself to quit the endless searching. He’s been searching for the past nine days. And he’ll continue to scour the streets for six more before he will put a loaded .45 to his temple and pull the trigger.