As the sun began to set, Father Mitchell stood outside the old church, contemplating the tale of a dark spirit imprisoned in a tree long before the first brick was laid. The tree itself was now limbless and rotting; a tragic sight.
He looked up as he heard something skitter across the slates on the church roof…nothing.
He turned back to the tree…
…gasped as a multitude of sharp claws punctured his torso; eyes widened as he looked down and saw chitinous black scales, compound eyes, and a pair of barbed mandibles which were ripping his intestines from his abdomen.