jpthazombiee

[jpthazombiee]

A Dope Illustration of ZARA herself made in part by @marvenart !! Be sure to checkout the short story posted a few notes back & Stay tuned for more dope projects inside of this collective.

[jpthazombiee]

CHECKOUT ZARA IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK 📚

ZARA

Once upon a time in a cheerful little town named Camilla , there lived a curious girl named Zara. Zara loved exploring the outdoors, especially her grandma’s big garden, filled with colorful flowers and delicious vegetables. One sunny afternoon, she stumbled upon a mysterious patch in the corner of the garden, where the flowers were a strange shade of green, and the ground looked a bit uneven.

As Zara examined the patch more closely, she heard a soft groaning sound. Startled, she stepped back but then noticed something amazing! Emerging from the ground were friendly-looking zombies! They had big smiles, twinkling eyes, and were covered in dirt, with leaves stuck to their heads. Zara realized these weren’t scary zombies; they were garden zombies!

“Hello!” said one of the zombies, waving a purple, mossy hand. “I’m Zeke! We need your help!”

“What do you need help with?” Zara asked, her fear melting away.

“We want to grow the most beautiful garden ever, but we’re not quite sure how,” Zeke explained. “We might look a little spooky and frightening at first, but we love flowers just like you do!”

Zara thought for a moment. “I’d love to help! Let’s plant some seeds together!”

So, Zara and the garden zombies worked side by side, planting bright flowers and vegetables. They laughed and joked, and Zara learned all about how to nurture the plants. The zombies, in return, taught her their secret “Zombie Zumba” dance to make the plants grow faster!

As the days passed, Zara visited the garden every afternoon. The plants flourished, and soon, the once spooky patch turned into a vibrant flower bed. The townspeople were amazed at the colorful garden, and they celebrated with a big picnic, inviting everyone, including the friendly zombies!

From that day on, Zara and her zombie friends became the best of pals. Every time someone mentioned zombies in Camilla, she would smile and remember the garden filled with joy, laughter, and a touch of magic.

And so, Zara learned that sometimes the scariest things at first can turn out to be the most wonderful things in The end.

IG: purplezombiee

[jpthazombiee]

Dope Art by MARVEN 🎨

Hi ! I d’ like to share my painting !

And follow me on instagram @marvclerveu

[jpthazombiee]

<<<<<MODEL CAST NEEDED >>>>>

DR HELEN: Part 1

Dr. Helen Helen was not a woman who sought attention. In fact, she preferred the background. A quiet pulse in the vast machine of the hospital. It was fitting, really, given her area of expertise—cardiology. She wasn’t just a doctor of the heart; she was a listener to its most hidden, most delicate whispers.

Helen had always been fascinated by the heart. Not the romanticized, poetic version that so many people imagined, but the real thing—the electrical system, the valves, the blood, the rhythm that determined life itself. She studied the heart as if it were a secret code, a mystery meant only for those who were willing to listen closely, to understand its unspoken language.

Her colleagues knew her as competent, efficient, and calm, yet few understood her. Helen’s personality was as steady as the beat of a metronome, but deep down, her world was filled with unanswered questions. There was one thing that puzzled her more than any medical anomaly: the nature of her own heartbeat.

Helen had always felt something was wrong with her heart, but no test ever showed anything abnormal. Doctors told her it was just anxiety, perhaps an overactive imagination. But Helen could sense it—the offbeat, the irregularity that no one else seemed to notice. It wasn’t physical, not in the way a murmur or arrhythmia would be. It was more like a… presence, an echo in the back of her chest, a sensation she could never explain.

Her obsession grew. Helen had been to cardiologists, neurologists, even psychologists, all in search of an answer. But no one could offer her one. She began to feel alien in her own body, disconnected from her heart, as if it had secrets it refused to share.

One late evening, after another long shift in the cardiology ward, Helen sat alone in her office, reviewing patient files. The hum of the fluorescent lights above and the quiet shuffle of nurses’ footsteps in the hallway were all she could hear. She had just signed off on a particularly complicated case involving a patient with heart failure when a soft knock on her door broke the silence.

“Dr. Helen?” A voice, timid and uncertain, came from the doorway. It was a young nurse, barely out of her training.

“Yes, Sarah?” Helen looked up, her gaze piercing, as if the nurse had interrupted a deep thought.

“There’s a patient in Room 307… They’re, um, asking for you. They say you’re the only one who can help.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I’m not on call tonight.”

The nurse hesitated. “It’s… it’s not a physical problem, Dr. Helen. They… they say their heart is broken. They’ve been here for a week, but nothing is physically wrong with them. They’re just… they can’t seem to feel anything, like their heart has stopped.”

Helen paused. That strange sensation in her chest flared up again, and a wave of unease swept over her. She had no explanation, but she knew that she had to go.

When she arrived at Room 307, the patient was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was an elderly woman, frail and thin, her face a map of years lived with sorrow.

“Dr. Helen,” the woman whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Helen took a seat beside her. “What’s going on? What do you mean your heart is broken?”

The woman closed her eyes. “It’s not just the physical heart,” she said. “It’s the invisible one. The one no one can see. I’ve been waiting for someone who understands. I can’t feel anything anymore. It’s like I’ve been hollowed out, like my heartbeat has stopped in a way that no doctor can measure. But you… you can feel it, can’t you?”

Helen felt a strange, unexplainable rush of recognition. She had never met this woman before, but in that moment, something clicked. “I understand,” she whispered.

The elderly woman’s eyes opened, locking with hers. “You know what it’s like, don’t you? To have a heart that doesn’t beat as it should, to live in a world where everything feels muted, even though your body is alive.”

Helen felt the room grow still. The woman’s words echoed in her mind, and for the first time in years, Helen allowed herself to let down the walls she had built. The echo in her chest, the irregular rhythm she had felt for so long, was not a malfunction. It was a message. A kindred heartbeat from another soul, one that had been silent for too long.

Without thinking, Helen reached out and took the woman’s hand. “I think I understand what’s happening,” she said softly. “You’re not broken. But something is missing. You’ve stopped listening to the heart, to the rhythm of life.”

The woman’s eyes welled with tears, and Helen realized that the woman’s heartache was something that could not be fixed with medicine. It was the pain of isolation, of living without connection to oneself and others.

Helen stood up and walked to the window, feeling a shift inside her. She had been searching for an answer all these years—an answer to her own silent heartache, her own invisible pain. And now, it became clear. The answers were not in the heart itself, but in the understanding of the spaces between beats, the empty moments that stretched between heartbeats and human connections.

“Your heart hasn’t stopped,” Helen said gently, turning back to the woman. “It’s just waiting for you to listen to it again.”

The woman smiled, a faint but genuine curve of her lips. And as Helen left the room, she could feel the weight of her own heart shifting—no longer lost, but finally understood.

The unseen heartbeat of her soul was not a flaw, but a song, waiting for her to hear it

PreOrder: <<join Dr. Helen’s flare society >>

Creator: Ig: purplezombiee/jpthazombiee

[jpthazombiee]

Character Profile :

Caucasian woman age 34-45 w/black crinkly hair draped forward over shirt

Dr Helen’s Custom Button up (PZ)

Dr Helen Gremlin Flare (PZ)

Shoes preferably white over black low top Dr Martens

Setting and Shot location: A hospital

Props: medical equipment

DR HELEN: Part 1

Dr. Helen Helen was not a woman who sought attention. In fact, she preferred the background. A quiet pulse in the vast machine of the hospital. It was fitting, really, given her area of expertise—cardiology. She wasn’t just a doctor of the heart; she was a listener to its most hidden, most delicate whispers.

Helen had always been fascinated by the heart. Not the romanticized, poetic version that so many people imagined, but the real thing—the electrical system, the valves, the blood, the rhythm that determined life itself. She studied the heart as if it were a secret code, a mystery meant only for those who were willing to listen closely, to understand its unspoken language.

Her colleagues knew her as competent, efficient, and calm, yet few understood her. Helen’s personality was as steady as the beat of a metronome, but deep down, her world was filled with unanswered questions. There was one thing that puzzled her more than any medical anomaly: the nature of her own heartbeat.

Helen had always felt something was wrong with her heart, but no test ever showed anything abnormal. Doctors told her it was just anxiety, perhaps an overactive imagination. But Helen could sense it—the offbeat, the irregularity that no one else seemed to notice. It wasn’t physical, not in the way a murmur or arrhythmia would be. It was more like a… presence, an echo in the back of her chest, a sensation she could never explain.

Her obsession grew. Helen had been to cardiologists, neurologists, even psychologists, all in search of an answer. But no one could offer her one. She began to feel alien in her own body, disconnected from her heart, as if it had secrets it refused to share.

One late evening, after another long shift in the cardiology ward, Helen sat alone in her office, reviewing patient files. The hum of the fluorescent lights above and the quiet shuffle of nurses’ footsteps in the hallway were all she could hear. She had just signed off on a particularly complicated case involving a patient with heart failure when a soft knock on her door broke the silence.

“Dr. Helen?” A voice, timid and uncertain, came from the doorway. It was a young nurse, barely out of her training.

“Yes, Sarah?” Helen looked up, her gaze piercing, as if the nurse had interrupted a deep thought.

“There’s a patient in Room 307… They’re, um, asking for you. They say you’re the only one who can help.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I’m not on call tonight.”

The nurse hesitated. “It’s… it’s not a physical problem, Dr. Helen. They… they say their heart is broken. They’ve been here for a week, but nothing is physically wrong with them. They’re just… they can’t seem to feel anything, like their heart has stopped.”

Helen paused. That strange sensation in her chest flared up again, and a wave of unease swept over her. She had no explanation, but she knew that she had to go.

When she arrived at Room 307, the patient was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was an elderly woman, frail and thin, her face a map of years lived with sorrow.

“Dr. Helen,” the woman whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Helen took a seat beside her. “What’s going on? What do you mean your heart is broken?”

The woman closed her eyes. “It’s not just the physical heart,” she said. “It’s the invisible one. The one no one can see. I’ve been waiting for someone who understands. I can’t feel anything anymore. It’s like I’ve been hollowed out, like my heartbeat has stopped in a way that no doctor can measure. But you… you can feel it, can’t you?”

Helen felt a strange, unexplainable rush of recognition. She had never met this woman before, but in that moment, something clicked. “I understand,” she whispered.

The elderly woman’s eyes opened, locking with hers. “You know what it’s like, don’t you? To have a heart that doesn’t beat as it should, to live in a world where everything feels muted, even though your body is alive.”

Helen felt the room grow still. The woman’s words echoed in her mind, and for the first time in years, Helen allowed herself to let down the walls she had built. The echo in her chest, the irregular rhythm she had felt for so long, was not a malfunction. It was a message. A kindred heartbeat from another soul, one that had been silent for too long.

Without thinking, Helen reached out and took the woman’s hand. “I think I understand what’s happening,” she said softly. “You’re not broken. But something is missing. You’ve stopped listening to the heart, to the rhythm of life.”

The woman’s eyes welled with tears, and Helen realized that the woman’s heartache was something that could not be fixed with medicine. It was the pain of isolation, of living without connection to oneself and others.

Helen stood up and walked to the window, feeling a shift inside her. She had been searching for an answer all these years—an answer to her own silent heartache, her own invisible pain. And now, it became clear. The answers were not in the heart itself, but in the understanding of the spaces between beats, the empty moments that stretched between heartbeats and human connections.

“Your heart hasn’t stopped,” Helen said gently, turning back to the woman. “It’s just waiting for you to listen to it again.”

The woman smiled, a faint but genuine curve of her lips. And as Helen left the room, she could feel the weight of her own heart shifting—no longer lost, but finally understood.

The unseen heartbeat of her soul was not a flaw, but a song, waiting for her to hear it

PreOrder: <<join Dr. Helen’s flare society >>

Creator: Ig: purplezombiee/jpthazombiee

[jpthazombiee]

DR HELEN: Part 1

Dr. Helen Helen was not a woman who sought attention. In fact, she preferred the background. A quiet pulse in the vast machine of the hospital. It was fitting, really, given her area of expertise—cardiology. She wasn’t just a doctor of the heart; she was a listener to its most hidden, most delicate whispers.

Helen had always been fascinated by the heart. Not the romanticized, poetic version that so many people imagined, but the real thing—the electrical system, the valves, the blood, the rhythm that determined life itself. She studied the heart as if it were a secret code, a mystery meant only for those who were willing to listen closely, to understand its unspoken language.

Her colleagues knew her as competent, efficient, and calm, yet few understood her. Helen’s personality was as steady as the beat of a metronome, but deep down, her world was filled with unanswered questions. There was one thing that puzzled her more than any medical anomaly: the nature of her own heartbeat.

Helen had always felt something was wrong with her heart, but no test ever showed anything abnormal. Doctors told her it was just anxiety, perhaps an overactive imagination. But Helen could sense it—the offbeat, the irregularity that no one else seemed to notice. It wasn’t physical, not in the way a murmur or arrhythmia would be. It was more like a… presence, an echo in the back of her chest, a sensation she could never explain.

Her obsession grew. Helen had been to cardiologists, neurologists, even psychologists, all in search of an answer. But no one could offer her one. She began to feel alien in her own body, disconnected from her heart, as if it had secrets it refused to share.

One late evening, after another long shift in the cardiology ward, Helen sat alone in her office, reviewing patient files. The hum of the fluorescent lights above and the quiet shuffle of nurses’ footsteps in the hallway were all she could hear. She had just signed off on a particularly complicated case involving a patient with heart failure when a soft knock on her door broke the silence.

“Dr. Helen?” A voice, timid and uncertain, came from the doorway. It was a young nurse, barely out of her training.

“Yes, Sarah?” Helen looked up, her gaze piercing, as if the nurse had interrupted a deep thought.

“There’s a patient in Room 307… They’re, um, asking for you. They say you’re the only one who can help.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I’m not on call tonight.”

The nurse hesitated. “It’s… it’s not a physical problem, Dr. Helen. They… they say their heart is broken. They’ve been here for a week, but nothing is physically wrong with them. They’re just… they can’t seem to feel anything, like their heart has stopped.”

Helen paused. That strange sensation in her chest flared up again, and a wave of unease swept over her. She had no explanation, but she knew that she had to go.

When she arrived at Room 307, the patient was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was an elderly woman, frail and thin, her face a map of years lived with sorrow.

“Dr. Helen,” the woman whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Helen took a seat beside her. “What’s going on? What do you mean your heart is broken?”

The woman closed her eyes. “It’s not just the physical heart,” she said. “It’s the invisible one. The one no one can see. I’ve been waiting for someone who understands. I can’t feel anything anymore. It’s like I’ve been hollowed out, like my heartbeat has stopped in a way that no doctor can measure. But you… you can feel it, can’t you?”

Helen felt a strange, unexplainable rush of recognition. She had never met this woman before, but in that moment, something clicked. “I understand,” she whispered.

The elderly woman’s eyes opened, locking with hers. “You know what it’s like, don’t you? To have a heart that doesn’t beat as it should, to live in a world where everything feels muted, even though your body is alive.”

Helen felt the room grow still. The woman’s words echoed in her mind, and for the first time in years, Helen allowed herself to let down the walls she had built. The echo in her chest, the irregular rhythm she had felt for so long, was not a malfunction. It was a message. A kindred heartbeat from another soul, one that had been silent for too long.

Without thinking, Helen reached out and took the woman’s hand. “I think I understand what’s happening,” she said softly. “You’re not broken. But something is missing. You’ve stopped listening to the heart, to the rhythm of life.”

The woman’s eyes welled with tears, and Helen realized that the woman’s heartache was something that could not be fixed with medicine. It was the pain of isolation, of living without connection to oneself and others.

Helen stood up and walked to the window, feeling a shift inside her. She had been searching for an answer all these years—an answer to her own silent heartache, her own invisible pain. And now, it became clear. The answers were not in the heart itself, but in the understanding of the spaces between beats, the empty moments that stretched between heartbeats and human connections.

“Your heart hasn’t stopped,” Helen said gently, turning back to the woman. “It’s just waiting for you to listen to it again.”

The woman smiled, a faint but genuine curve of her lips. And as Helen left the room, she could feel the weight of her own heart shifting—no longer lost, but finally understood.

The unseen heartbeat of her soul was not a flaw, but a song, waiting for her to hear it

PreOrder: <<join Dr. Helen’s flare society >>

Creator: Ig: purplezombiee/jpthazombiee

[jpthazombiee]

BLACK COMIC ART :

filter by snap chat goes crazy ☀️🕶️

[jpthazombiee]

TRAPPED IN A TIME MACHINE:

Jeremy was just 15 when he stumbled upon an old, dusty laboratory at the edge of town. A curious kid, always looking for something exciting, he found himself drawn to this mysterious place. Tinkering with a machine he had no business touching, Jeremy activated the one thing that should have remained dormant a time machine.

The machine whirred and hummed before he even realized what was happening. In an instant, Jeremy was gone—hurtling through time, not to another era or another world, but caught in the limbo of the machine itself.

He spent what felt like years inside that swirling void. Time passed, but not in the way he expected. The machine seemed to freeze him in age, holding him captive in a space between moments. At first, Jeremy was panicked, desperate to escape. But over time, he learned the strange rhythms of this in-between existence. He didn’t need to eat or sleep; he was simply… there, numb to the world but advanced almost as if he was light years ahead of himself. A ZOMBIE!!! He saw glimpses of the outside world, fragments of moments happening beyond his reach.

In his mental prison, Jeremy watched the years pass, his once youthful spirit aging slowly. He wasn’t aware of how much time had truly gone by until one day, as suddenly as he had been trapped, the machine sputtered him back to life again. With a jolt, it spit him out into the real world, a place that had moved on without him.

When Jeremy finally stepped out of the time machine, he was 70 years old. His body had aged, but his mind still held the memories of the vibrant 15-year-old he had once been. He looked around at the world that had changed in ways he couldn’t fathom. Buildings that had been new were now old, streets he once knew were replaced with modern structures, and people he had known were long gone. He was only left with memories made during his more youthful time.

He wandered through the city, feeling like a zombie in a place he barely recognized. His once bright eyes now held the weight of lost years, of moments he would never get back. Time had moved forward, leaving him behind, in an old man’s world. He had no family no friends no kids no anything ,only memories.

But Jeremy wasn’t bitter. He knew better than anyone how precious time was, having been trapped in it for so long sometimes even seeing it as a way of preservation being preserved from an oh so evil world. At times he’d wonder if he really escaped the injustices, the corruption, the false judgements, the hatred the world carried? The air pockets of joy he’d receive from perception gave him life. So, despite the strange reality he returned to, he set out to live what remained of his life with a new perspective. He was REVIVED and enjoyed every sunset, every conversation, every breath—because he knew better than most that time was a gift, and it was never to be wasted.

[jpthazombiee]

THE PARADE: In the heart of Camilla, the air was thick with the sounds of a marching band, trumpets blaring, drums pounding. The parade started on Harney Street and went throughout town. The parade was in full swing, weaving through the narrow streets, having going by the Court House and ironically ending up in an abandoned space at the old IGA Snipes. The place hadn’t been open for years. Something definitely was off but everyone seemed happy.

Everyone clapped along with the music dancing to the beat, surfing and dwindling as the floats continued piling all into this one space. But their movements were kind of stiff, jerky, like puppets on strings or something. And their eyes… were a bit hollow, yellowish and if you looked closely glazed as if they were staring at something just beyond reality. It definitely started getting creepy out. Strangely some was only in town to get a box of good old fashion fried chicken from Camilla’s famous chicken shack. Well that didn’t happen.

Avery Connor, a local resident, pushed her way through the crowd, sensing that something was terribly wrong with this picture. “Why are they here and not there (she was referring to across the street)”she noticed a slight change in position but Thank goodness she was on to something. She had seen plenty of MLK parades in the city, but nothing like this. The people no, the creatures around her—were not the usual revelers. Their skin was darker than normal and cracked, their clothes tattered, and their mouths curled in permanent grins.

Zombies!!!!

Section 2: Once she realized what was going on she immediately started dialing for some sort of help. Oddly her service wasn’t acting in her favor. She screamed “WTF I Just PAID THESE PPL”.

Looking Back to what seemed to be zombies. They weren’t like the ones from the movies. These zombies weren’t moaning for flesh or stumbling around. They were all in a happy place nonchalantly sticking to cadence. Cheerfully playing their instruments and dancing, smiling, and waving. “Am I in a daze?” Avery asked herself, as her heart raced and as she ducked for a side alley stumbling over railroad tracks. Her purse slung across her back. She had heard rumors going around about a fake priest in the city who had been bribing most of the citizens for money claiming a haunting is approaching if they didn’t pay for redemption of course no one believed it could be true. I guess Until now Avery wondered. Was this the haunting? A parade of chanting creepy zombies ? But why aren’t they eating people she stated wondering to herself? “I thought zombies ate flesh and blood these must be the zombie cousins” Avery thought as she gaged closer. She soon saw something that gave her the chills. It was this purple figure walking along the street as if it didn’t see any commotion from the residue of the parade itself. Avery tried getting a closer look at this thing but by the time she realized it, felt herself awakening up out of a mid day nap. “Whew it was just a dream” she gasped. A quick stream of relief rushed through her body. You could tell she was excited to wake up. “What was that thing though” she started remembering the purple figure that she had seen moments ago in a what seemed to be so realistic dream. She wondered did it save her from those negative illusions like did it wake her up and was it some kind of heroic entity? What would she call this thing if she ever seen it again? Just a purple zombie?

[jpthazombiee]

ZARA

Once upon a time in a cheerful little town named Camilla , there lived a curious girl named Zara. Zara loved exploring the outdoors, especially her grandma’s big garden, filled with colorful flowers and delicious vegetables. One sunny afternoon, she stumbled upon a mysterious patch in the corner of the garden, where the flowers were a strange shade of green, and the ground looked a bit uneven.

As Zara examined the patch more closely, she heard a soft groaning sound. Startled, she stepped back but then noticed something amazing! Emerging from the ground were friendly-looking zombies! They had big smiles, twinkling eyes, and were covered in dirt, with leaves stuck to their heads. Zara realized these weren’t scary zombies; they were garden zombies!

“Hello!” said one of the zombies, waving a purple, mossy hand. “I’m Zeke! We need your help!”

“What do you need help with?” Zara asked, her fear melting away.

“We want to grow the most beautiful garden ever, but we’re not quite sure how,” Zeke explained. “We might look a little spooky and frightening at first, but we love flowers just like you do!”

Zara thought for a moment. “I’d love to help! Let’s plant some seeds together!”

So, Zara and the garden zombies worked side by side, planting bright flowers and vegetables. They laughed and joked, and Zara learned all about how to nurture the plants. The zombies, in return, taught her their secret “Zombie Zumba” dance to make the plants grow faster!

As the days passed, Zara visited the garden every afternoon. The plants flourished, and soon, the once spooky patch turned into a vibrant flower bed. The townspeople were amazed at the colorful garden, and they celebrated with a big picnic, inviting everyone, including the friendly zombies!

From that day on, Zara and her zombie friends became the best of pals. Every time someone mentioned zombies in Camilla, she would smile and remember the garden filled with joy, laughter, and a touch of magic.

And so, Zara learned that sometimes the scariest things at first can turn out to be the most wonderful things in The end.

IG: purplezombiee

[jpthazombiee]

Zara and her zombie pals:

“What do you need help with?” Zara asked, her fear melting away.”

And so, Zara learned that sometimes the scariest things can turn out to be the most wonderful things in the end.

IG: purplezombiee

[jpthazombiee]

Must’ve been a little under the weather this morning! My eyes kept popping out 😵‍💫- please excuse me 🧟‍♂️💐🧟‍♀️

[jpthazombiee]

He haven’t spoken in years! I can’t even tell ya the last time I could remember him even sleeping. It’s like he turned into something over night but idk what🧟‍♂️🧟‍♂️

Hey JP here, I hope you liked this short clip! In essence of this halloween season I’d like to give you pieces of Jpthazombiee and a slice of his story..... #staged #justclipping #horror #halloween #happyhalloweenszn #resumesstillFive #october #jpthazombiee #strange #noise #strangenoises #film #1626 #clip #vintage #zombies #purple #purplezombies #purplezombiee #staged #in #junkycloset #video #rama #videorama #shortclip #instagram #instaclips #clips #voiceover #byme

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