In the beginning, this place was filled with someone's memories―sad memories. With the passage of time, those memories break down, and every so often, they creep into our everyday world as…disturbances. Why do they show themselves to us? Perhaps they seek a mouthpiece for their own despair, or something else entirely. When strangeness takes root in a place of woe, the seeds of dread begin to germinate…

Seeds of Anxiety* has a story and art by Masaaki Nakayama. English translation is done by Stephen Paul and lettering by Abigail Blackman. Published by Yen Press (July 28, 2026). Rated OT.

Rebecca Silverman
Rating:

I think at this point everyone's at least heard of the flash fiction genre known as “ two-sentence horror stories.” It's pretty much what the name suggests: a horror story told in only two sentences, and, like most flash fiction, if done well, it can be very effective. Seeds of Anxiety* is pretty much “Two Sentence Horror Stories: The Manga,” and as such, it's a very mixed bag. Each short story is grouped into a chapter according to theme (and, the notes explain, by the kanji each title begins with), and almost all are about three to five pages long, although there are exceptions on the longer side. Each piece is set between 1975 and 2013, with the date and place – mostly Hokkaido and the Tokyo area – noted at the end. It's an interesting setup, which may be why this volume, which you'll note has an asterisk after the title, is just one of several under the Seeds of Anxiety* umbrella. This is the first to arrive in English, and I never felt like I was missing something while reading it, so I think it's probably safe to say that each series is standalone.

The tales within these pages are largely urban legends. Many of them, regardless of chapter, involve mouths – gaping, toothy, or otherwise unsettling. Why this is such a theme is unclear within the context of the book (possibly not getting the kanji has obscured the reason), but it's still effective, at least for me, who finds gaping maws unnerving – although the grandpa with teeth in his eyes is creepy no matter what your tolerance for oral horror. Footprints are another theme, with one story featuring a set that can possess those who step on them, which feels like a successful urban legend. In fact, the best stories in the book have that classic urban legend feel – they're like stories on the edge of your consciousness, something you heard whispered at school or in passing as you walk around the city, barely familiar and yet believable in their potential reality.

Despite the brevity of each piece, each story does feel complete. In fact, the longer chapters are the less effective ones; Nakayama is at their best when distilling a tale down to its most basic form. Likewise, the art is strongest when it uses the barest amount of details, because our own imaginations are far better at filling in the blanks with whatever scares us the most than any pen could ever be. It's an interesting collection, and I'm certainly curious to read more in the series, as it takes me back to reading the short stories in Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark as a little girl.