Hey there, fellow darkness dwellers!
You know that feeling when you stumble across something so uniquely unsettling that it burrows into your brain like one of those parasites that “will penetrate any orifice”? That’s exactly what happened when I first cracked open Jesse Jacobs’ Safari Honeymoon.
Not Your Average Vacation Horror Story
Let me just say—I’ve devoured my fair share of body horror comics over the years (‘mostly because of my Clive Barker obsession). I love everything ‘BH’ – from Junji Ito‘s spiral obsessions to the grotesque transformations in the Hellraiser comics , and I thought I’d seen it all. Then along comes Jacobs with his four-shades-of-green nightmare fertilizer that somehow manages to be both breathtakingly beautiful and stomach-churningly repulsive.
Published back in 2014 by Koyama Press, this 80-page gem follows a newlywed couple venturing into a surreal jungle with their experienced guide. What begins as a honeymoon adventure quickly descends into a paranoia-inducing trek where even the most innocent-looking flora might be plotting to invade your body and set up shop.

Why It Works So Damn Well
The genius of Safari Honeymoon lies in Jacobs’ artistic approach. His style is this fascinating contradiction—simultaneously minimal and overwhelmingly detailed. Every page is a maze of intricate patterns, wiggly lines, and alien-like organisms that feel both completely foreign and disturbingly familiar.
I found myself staring at certain pages for uncomfortably long periods, mesmerized by their bizarre beauty while also checking my own ears for centipedes. (Don’t judge—you’ll do the same after reading it).

What really elevates this comic beyond typical body horror is how deeply it taps into our disconnection from nature. There’s something profoundly unsettling about witnessing these urbanite honeymooners confronting a natural world that operates by rules they can’t comprehend—where they’re not the apex predators but potential hosts.
A Horror Comic Unlike Any Other
While most horror comics rely on shadows and darkness, Jacobs embraces the vibrant greens of the jungle. The horror isn’t hidden—it’s right there, beautifully rendered in broad daylight. This artistic choice makes the parasitic invasions and bodily corruptions all the more disturbing.

And can we talk about those parasites? Good lord. Without spoiling too much, let’s just say they make the chest-burster from Alien look like a slightly rude houseguest. These creatures don’t just want to kill you—they want to transform you, use you, become you. The psychological terror of not knowing who’s already been infected creates this delicious atmosphere of paranoia that builds with each page turn.
Why You Need This On Your Shelf
Honestly, if you’re visiting The Longbox of Darkness regularly, you’re already a connoisseur of the weird and disturbing. But Safari Honeymoon offers something even seasoned horror fans might not have experienced before.

This isn’t horror that simply wants to shock you. It’s horror that wants to make you think about your place in the natural world—about cycles of consumption and regeneration that continue with or without your participation. It’s gorgeously grotesque existential dread wrapped in a deceptively simple package.
I keep coming back to what Jacobs himself said about the natural world being “simultaneously beautiful and gruesome.” That duality infuses every page, creating a reading experience that’s as philosophically rich as it is viscerally disturbing.

So do yourself a favor—grab a copy, (this is an Amazon listing, but try Ebay or your local LCS too, since Amazon’s a bit pricey), set aside an evening (preferably not right before bed), and let Jacobs take you on the most unsettling honeymoon you’ll ever experience. Just maybe check your ears afterward, just to be safe.

Have you read Safari Honeymoon? What’s your favorite body horror comic? Drop your thoughts in the comments below!
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