Zombie Man & Fan Girl
vs
The Cathode Ray Cult
A novelette by
© 2026 Nick Thomson. All rights reserved.
Nick Thomson has asserted his right under
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
to be identified as the author of this work.
To have one's eyeball sucked from its socket was a form of passion to which few beings were accustomed, and even fewer approved of.
Indeed, theirs was a love that was banned in thirty-one countries.
To see his lover's cold tongue swirl it about her mouth, like one might do with the stem of a cherry, or a never-ending super sour sugar-coated gobstopper, was an experience like simultaneously riding atop a rumbling washing machine and clattered about inside it akin to a forgotten penny during the spin cycle.
Nobody performed an eyejob like Fan Girl did.
That was all just foreplay, however, and the bone ash kept him going all night long if they so desired, which was usually the case, and that night was typical of many others – at least up to that point of their evening.
Some people say “I'll sleep when I'm dead”, but they don't know what fun they would be missing. Similarly, those who profess to be experiencing an undying love don't know the meaning of the depths that those two words can summon, like so many incantations brewed together.
Afterwards, he rolled back onto the red silk sheets, listening to her contented sigh, and watched as she stretched her limbs, working out the exhausted feeling of pleasure. It stretched out through her dancing toes with their chipped Deepest Noir polish, and to the tips of her similarly adorned fingers, which brushed the burgundy velvet curtains that hung over their bedstead.
Fan Girl loved him dearly, but there still resided a sense of guilt deep within his bones about that one particular night.
As she allowed her arms to fall back down against her naked, moon-lit form – those lingering goosebumps melting away as her feet curled together to brush back and forth – he looked over to her and brushed aside the long and tangled black hair from her face.
“You know, tonight is the six month, six day, and six hour anniversary,” he said.
She rolled to face him and laced her fingers between the ridges of his protruding ribs. “It is? Well, aren't you a sentimental slice of something special?” Her hair fell back off the shoulder and revealed the healed-over scar on her neck, the pattern of the teeth that bit her matching those of her lover and partner in crime.
He gazed at the pattern of the pitted teeth marks sunk into her cool, grey flesh, and traced the bumps and divots with one bony finger.
What had started out as a holiday romance on a faraway island, caressed by the ultramarine waves lapping at the shores of the white sandy beaches, quickly evolved into a passionate love affair that straddled the line between life and death. Fan Girl's glowing soft peach skin in contrast to her raven black hair, and his own flesh with its multitude of festering purples and greys and blues, had struck the spark between them. She was a very peculiar woman indeed, and the only one who had not only wanted to be that close to him, but had actively pursued such a communion.
For weeks they spent their nocturnal hours in various states of supercharged chaos, either in the bedroom or amidst the gloomy neon-tinged shadows of down town, seeking flesh and blood, danger and violence. It was clear that Fan Girl fit the bill like a poison pill, and he was enraptured.
But six departed months, days, and hours beforehand, as he was lost in the strenuous pangs of forced withdrawal, with his middle brain and medulla oblongata drowning in delirium, a terrible flash of hunger overtook his entire being. Fan Girl's warm blooded, peach perfect skin bled away to greyscale and the sparkle in her cerulean eyes dissolved into a pure, infinite whiteness.
At the very least he was thankful that he had kept that scrap of paper with Doctor West's phone number scribbled on it, and so she was resurrected quickly enough to reconstitute the fibres of her being, and though her bloodlust had increased, it was nothing that they couldn't handle.
Still, sometimes he found himself watching her in the early glimmers of dawn with a melancholic eye...
Click “READ MORE” below to continue the story...
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