The radio is nothing but dead air. No gas or electric, but there's money in the till at Myrtle’s Cafe. And everyone who wasn’t on the boat has completely disappeared. Everyone there is really tense, but it’s understandable. It’s not like it was a particularly big town, but why would everyone suddenly disappear like that? The mystery deepens in Wild’s End #2. Writer Dan Abnett and artist I.N.J. Culbard continue their journey into a strange tragedy in a tiny town populated by anthropomorphized animals. The slow stillness of the drama continues to develop with a style and form that feels distinctly unique.

The kittens wanted to head off to Bamford...so they left on foot. Naturally, there wasn’t anything to be done about it. Flo wants to go after them, but there’s no way she can catch up with them on foot. They would meet whatever fate Bamford had in store for them long before Flo ever caught up with them. So, Roddy and Flo head out to the office of the newspaper. Maybe they can look for clues there as to what’s happened. There’s something strange there. Mention of shooting stars and crop circles trampled overnight. The mystery is beginning to sound a bit familiar. 

Abnett is creating a remarkably complex and intricate little world for the series. Given the relatively small population involved, it's a very small canvas to work on that's also capable of getting very large for the author. The mix of tender interpersonal drama with science-fiction horror feels particularly strong in a tiny community that feels modeled after early 20th-century seaside England. It's all very cozy in a way that leans towards the disturbing and then becomes absolutely horrifying. The overall effect of the story that the author is creating is one of the more haunting things found on the comic book rack right now.

It's rapidly becoming apparent that there's really no reason why everybody in the town has to be an anthropomorphized animal of some sort. On a surface level, it feels very strange. If the anthropomorphized animals aren't really interacting with the story or the script at all, then why bother in the first place? Why not just make them human? Culbard’s cute little visuals seem modeled after Calico Critters/Sylvanian Family collectibles. Everyone is really cute and furry...but there’s an early 20th-century folk horror tinge on everything that makes it totally horrifying when something ghastly happens. It’s incredibly haunting as a result.

Cuteness often gets mixed with horror for the raw, visceral effect. What is cute is meant to be cozy and cuddly and something that's inherently safe. Give it claws and gore and sudden slashing of razor-sharp teeth, and suddenly it's very disturbing. A child scampering around can be cute. A child scampering around with a bloody butcher knife is horrifying. However, Wild’s End is doing something altogether different. The cuteness of the animals cries for the reader's empathy. As a result, the horrifying reality of what's going on is that much more emotionally present for the reader. It's quite an effect.

Grade: A