That very night, both of the parson’s daughters died.
(“What?” Conor said again, the nightmare feeling taking hold of his guts.)
And that very night, I came walking.
(“Good!” Conor shouted. “That stupid git deserves all the punishment he gets.”)
(I thought so, too, said the monster.)
It was shortly after midnight that I tore the parson’s home from its very foundations.
THE REST OF THE SECOND TALE
Conor whirled round. “The parson?” Yes, said the monster.
I flung his roof into the dell below and knocked down every wall of his house with my fists.
The parson’s house was still before them, and Conor saw the yew tree next to it awaken into the monster and set ferociously on the parsonage.
With the first blow to the roof, the front door flew open, and the parson and his wife fled in terror.
The monster in the scene threw their roof after them, barely missing them as they ran.
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