The following secret chapter takes place between Volume 1 and Volume 2

The Wolf Among Sheep Meet the Devil Among Men

The cabin door swung open. Owen froze. In the sickly yellow glow of an oil lamp was an impossibly wide smile. In that twisted curve, that curve that stretched beyond the boundaries of its beholder, were two pinpoints of pitch black eyes. Small. Beady. Watching. A strange contortion of angles was attached to the smile. Its shape bled in and out of the scenery as if he merged with the ship itself. The creature was drenched in blue-grey skin that sagged and folded as if it didn’t fit quite right on its form.

A spindly arm emerged. A bony hand with long slender fingers, fingers with far too many joints, motioned for the young Captain. “Inside, Owen. Close the door, make no sound.” Owen did as he was told. He shut the door behind him. “Knowest thou of me, yes?” 

“I will get the book in time, simple Owen.” The man-thing’s voice teased Owen’s ego. “I’ve never seen it work its magic in the flesh.” His head twisted, the smile curving to the right. “I wonder what thou wilt become. Will it be thee, or Wyn? What will the Eclipse reveal?”

Owen nodded. “I’ve read your page. You can’t have the book.”

Owen’s eyes darted to his bed. The book’s spine peeked out from the darkness. The glint of its strange golden letters giving it away. Owen moved round, his eyes locking onto the strange tangled mess of spindly limbs that now taunted him. “I feel fine.” He growled.

It wasn’t true. He knew that. Not since the first bite of…


His thoughts trailed, his stomach growled.


“Lie to me, but you can’t lie to thyself, dear Owen.” The man-thing responded. His voice drifted slowly like honey but with the bassy undertone of a predator’s growl. “Thou hast read the book. I have read the book. She is inside of thee now.” A spindly limb snaked from the darkness. “Gnawing at the edges of thy thoughts.” The arm darted for the lamp on the desk. “I wonder what she saith to thee, Owen.” It swiped at the flame. “I wonder for what THOU hungerest.” Mr. Minor’s voice growled and faded with the rapidly dying light.

And then Owen found himself alone, staring at darkness.

His limbs unfurled themselves. The joints groaned. Creaked. Popped. Snapped into place. The ship stood against the void, bathed in silver moonlight. From this distance it looked so small, toy like. Mr. Minor could see the blurry shape of the First Mate. He was looking up at the stars, rambling to himself though his words did not drift to these distances.

Mr. Minor rolled his shoulders, twisted his wrists. From this distance he could almost see it, the thin membrane containing all of the brewing madness. It shimmered against the moonlight like oil in the rain. It writhed and twitched, bubbled, expanded and contracted under his gaze.

Of all the species he has dealt with; the apes were his least favorite. He found them too simple. Too naive. They understood too little. It made his deals dull. They never thought outside of the box. They were nothing more than simpletons. A colony of simple minded machines operating a puppet. A mass of sapient primordial soup. All they ever want is money and power and a hole to fill.

He caught it. That worming thought, that twisting voice. Like a beartrap he reached out and snatched it from his head. He looked down at his hand. A squirming leech danced between his boney fingers.

“I don’t think so Wyn.” Mr. Minor growled. “I know thy tricks far too well.”

He dropped it into the sea.

If he knew it or not, it did not matter. That leech will sink down to the sandy bottom. There it will plant itself and it will feed on passing prey. It will grow larger and larger until it is braver to venture out. There it will find a city buried beneath the water. A city of impossible geometry. A city with angles that can not bend in the directions that they do. There it will find comfort. There it will continue to grow. Connect. Meld. In time a ship will drift by. One with another Owen with another book. Their shapes are different but their Purpose entwined. In time the worm will feel the call to stop it. And it will.

It will swallow the wind. It will wreck the ship. And the story will begin again. 

Art: The Eldritch Star - Ania Drew

Thank you for your support. I hope you are enjoying the show.

The final volume will be released in March and Dreadful Zines first year of publication will come to a close. 

I hope to see you all next year for the next weird tale of horror.

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