GARGOYLE by eumourner

High on the hill lies the blackened corpse of the burned church. The cold and roofless chapel no longer shelters the penitent, but now instead plays home to the birds, the rain, and The Dark, for while the ruin is bleak and silent during the safe light of the day, the Night has also found a grim home there. Twilight brings movement within the collapsed eaves and upon the shattered buttresses. Stone creaks and rumbles as it animates. Granite claws and jaws flex in anticipation of the Feeding. The soft flutter of leathered wings; the pungent, iron scent of bloody meals past, with more to come...

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