What is it?

That tree doesn’t look right? She said. It’s growing in a funny way. The left side could almost be a cage.

He looked across to where she was pointing, it did look strange. But then these were old trees. There almost seemed to be a pattern to it.

They sat on a bench in the graveyard and watched the sunset over the victorian houses beyond. The tree seemed to slump slightly as the sky darkened, but they didn’t notice as they were in deep conversation.

The top of the tree gradually brushed the ground and slid sideways towards them. The cage of twigs and branches shaking gently although there was no breeze. The boughs crept forward, the front twigs lifting up like fingers on a huge hand. Then, Drop! The branches encircled its victims, squeezing them. There were twigs piercing their veins. No chance of escape. They were plant food!