Before America was a land of freedom, in the days of Kings and colonies, there was a village of Christians on a mission, to convert the heathen Natives. Many in this hamlet were kind and were peaceful in this endevour, but there was one who believed the heathens deserved not but the most painful of deaths to save their souls. This colonist was the Pastor of the hamlet and as he preached his sermon of love and peace in the day, he would do the most horrid of deeds, in the darkness of moonless nights he would take the red skin children and commit the most vile of tortures upon their flesh and damn their innocent souls to the pits of hell deep within his homes bellows.
For many a year the preacher continued his dark practice unbeknownst to the sheep of his flock, to the innocent mind of the white settlers he was the holiest of saints. But to the natives He was the thief of children, a demon of the night, a horror that had to be slain at any cost. On one of his hunts for the heathen whelps the Shaman of the natives challenged the demon priest, and the Shaman and his braves brought the priest down. The villagers eventually found his corpse and buried him as a Martyr. The death of the preist sparked a war between the colonists and the natives, and overtime both the colonist and the natives were brought to near extinction.
Neither side wished to die, and so a truce was made, so long as the colonist left the land to return to the land of their origin, the colonist would live. When the colonist had gone the tribe rejoiced, but the children and the mothers still lived in fear. The shaman wished to ensure the survival of his tribes spirit but knew that the demon priest still tainted the tribal lands. Thus he went to preform a ritual upon the grave of the demon to put it to rest and rid the land of the fear. In the clearest and coolest stream of the valley he cleansed his mind and body, he wore the purest of ceremonial garb and carried the strongest and healthiest sapling to the grave and began his sacred rite. He dug deep into the grave and opened the preists coffin he standed down at the man that had slain so many of his children a grandfatherly figure really and shuddered in fear, imagining the deeds this man had perform. He took a white stone knife, and as he sang the sacred words, he cut open the demons chest, immediately he felt the monsters presence, he felt the preists murderous rage and vile memories of torturing his kinsmen. The shaman knew his work had to be fast. With the demons heart exposed the shaman grabbed his cherished sapling and began to place the plant within his chest, as he tried to place his plant a force pushed on his arms pushing the holyman and his sapling away from the corpse of the demon. The shaman fought the force and with all his strength he shoved the plant on the demons heart. The forced subsided as the roots began to cling to the flesh of the priest and immediately the sapling began to grow and change, the thick green leaves of the tree turned black as the moonless night and the bark of the tree turned the red of impure blood. As the evil of the demons soul was drank into the tree. The shaman had brought peace to the land and over time the cursed hamlet grew into a mighty forest that hid the monster at its core and the native tribe prospered.
This however is not the end of this tale of horrors.
Credit To: Ian twisted head