camp BLACK SHUCK | spooky story

It’s been two days since he’s been back to the twolegplace home where the rats pitter patter and clang about the silver tin cans, where the rubbish is rank and the metals clash and machinery growl within the fenced yard where Thistleback’s chosen no-fur resides. The old wrinkled fool always toying with the messes in his yard and making monsters with two wheels that screech and purr like a beast much bigger than itself.

While sleeping in the forest made his ears ring- the lack of noise oddly making him restless in the night. So used to hearing the tires screech or the upwalker chatter- he had only Deersong’s heartbeat to lull him to sleep, and what a lullaby it was. Silver eyes staring at her for several minutes before they close. It must be eerie the way he watches, but to him it was silent adoration. Memorizing her face and hoping to see her in his inevitable nightmares instead.

Tonight, the air is kissed with a coldness- but not too cold as to be uncomfortable. It was a feeling only described by the colors of the leaves of Thunderclan’s oaks. In the sky hangs the hungry pale yellow crescent of the glaring moon.

He prowls from the shadows of the camp’s edge till he’s in the center clearing where a few settled down from long hours of patrols or training. " Has anyone ever heard- of the Boggy bogey doggie?" his tone scratched over the calm nighttime air, tongue ghosting over his teeth as a smile crawls his maw. He’s in a good mood- so he would, spent some time with his clanmates.

" it’s an old stray cat tale for the nurseries. Still gives even ME the heebie jeebies " he coaxes with the accented lilt of his razored tongue before plopping down in the dimly lit grass. Owl hooting in the distance, and shadows of the pine limbs dancing above.

  • — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
    — daylight warrior of Skyclan
    — bisexual | crushing on Deersong
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
  • bVBPWus.png

I won't apologize for being who I am
The subtle chill now plaguing the air is enough to give the fluffy tom kit a small shudder. The shift in temperature to cooler weather was not something he was used too and according to what he'd overheard from passerbys it would only get colder. The child had been on his way to grab a piece of prey from the kill pile when he saw Thistleback slip from the shadows. Minty green eyes track the piebald male until the daylight warrior took a seat and inquired aloud about some strange creature. With his interest piqued, Coyote forgets about the snack he previously sought after to come sit near the dual colored man. "The bogey boggy what now?" He questioned rhetorically, ears perked forward to capture Thistle's reply. He's never heard this story before but he cannot help but to ask another genuine question. "Even you?'re the toughest looking cat in all of skyclan! It must be really something if it bothers someone like you." Coyote's brow then pulls together as he imagines the possibility of a monster capable of such a thing. "Have-have you ever seen it?" Was the doggie a real thing?
Tryna throw shade on me say a lot 'bout you
( ) with night having already fallen over them, the camp had quickly become shrouded in familiar darkness where shadows sprung up in every corner save for a few spots that had become barely illuminated by moonlight. there was the comfortable chill of leaf-fall that always accompanied them, the leaves of the pines rustling in the occassional sweeps of wind the brushed by skyclan. why, it set up the perfect atmostphere for a story.

when the discordant voice of thistleback touched upon his ears about a horrifying tale he'd recall, huckleberry would feel himself get drawn over in a similar way with rapt interest. ma and pa would tell him all kinds of stories to him and his siblings when they were just tiny tots but this was something he had yet to hear about. "the thistleback bein' spooked by somethin'? now that's a story ah got to hear, you got mah full attention!" it was clear to see the smoke was rather excited to listen in on a spooky tale.

huckleberry would quickly settle down onto his stomach upon the patches of grass, one of his paws tucking close to his chest.

( i hear the wandering streams and the song of the birds )


Daisyflight was already curled around herself when Thistleback invited listeners to his side. Her lengthy tail was laid pointedly across her slate-stippled nose, a warm barrier against the nip of the night air. Lucent eyes caught the moon's slim glow, watchful in their appraisal of the clearing. Content to remain in her spot, her earthen pillow pleasantly warm, the lift of the calico's ears denoted her interest in the conversation.

A hidden smile pinched her cheeks tall below her peach-stripe tail, brought on by the warrior's exaggerated language. Heebie-jeebies was an amusing term- rather similar to Deersong's atypical verbiage. The story of a dog, it sounded simple enough. After their recent encounter with a pack of tiny skirmishers, however, she maintained her patience. The experience had taught her that the most unassuming canines could be the focus of a tale of horror.

"Even the toughest of the tough can find themselves on the back foot." The light commentary was weighed significantly by the muffle of her voice, fur tickling at her nose. Scuffling over a slight sneeze, Daisyflight affixed a more sheepish, "I'd like to hear the tale all the same," before falling back into a perceptive silence.

The delivery had something to be desired. A proper hook both intrigued and explained without giving away the good details that the story itself would hold. If Thistleback was seeking some reward for presentation he would be sorely disappointed to know that simply having an interesting name did not make a creature of fear and figment any more interesting than a normal predator. Despite this he was drawn forward out of curiousity. though he warranted it would not kill him, the cat who did not seek information for information's was a poor scholar at best and a fool at worst. He was no fool, even if he walked with such a nonchalant stride that he came across dazed and unfocused, eyes mellowing yellow and scanning the gathered crowd about the monochrome chronicler only for him to stop alongside his mother with his head up and tail dragging along the earth, collecting bits of debris and burrs.

He paused, golden eyes moving from Coyotekit (little guy) and Huckleberry (significantly bigger guy) and wondered if merely looking intimidating was worth these kind of compliments. Were his claws as sharp as the spines of his clumped fur, was his bite as tight as the collar around his throat?
Snowpaw did not sit nor did he get comfortable, standing there as fragile as a slender tree in a strong breeze that could be bent and pushed about but never break; his legs awkwardly stanced to keep him from his dizzying sway back and forth. The introduction was an E for effort, but he'd grade on the curve if necessary-for now the floor was Thistleback's and perhaps soon too his if the tale was unimpressive enough to put him to sleep.
"Throw it down, let's here it then!"

the bogey boggy what now?

" don’t tell me the nursery tales have failed the boggy bogey doggie " a brisk tsk tsk in the air from wagging jaws and a howlish cackle. He recalled the time one of the mums has told him the old folkstale and Thistleback had been terrified to the core. The sight of a regular black dog haunted him to the pores of his skin.

Toughest, he’s plucked from his fiendish thoughts to level a look down the nose at the child. Long and short hair make up the cream hued kit, big mint greens looking at him expectantly. Toughest in all of Skyclan?, a child saw him as such a thing? not just a shadow slinking monster. Thistleback smile crinkles at the edges. A small glimmer of ambition dances in his metal optics. " oh she terrifies me " he confirms, cocking his chin as the kid asks if he had ever seen it. " of course. You have too- but sleep washes away the memory of her like rain " he speaks darkly, an ominous shadow lingering as he leans down to stare the kit in the eyes before whipping his head away violently to tell the tale.

Huckleberry’s words spur that feeling again, this deep wonder he had about what his clanmates thought of him. An unspoken question he didn’t worry over in the least bit. Fearless tasted better than freak. Thistleback cannot find himself to respond to, compliments. His brain didn’t do well to categorize them, he felt them though. Luckily, that’s where Daisyflight came in. He boasts as even wider toothy crevice on his maw, before pacing idly. When Snowpaw comes to stand- Thistleback takes to weaving around him like he were a tree. " very well " he cackles again, his slow steps offering him room to remember the tale as it was told to him.

" Several moons before our time- there was a dog, collared at the neck by an unbreakable tether… in the swamps Shadowclan now call home " he hooks a claw in his own neckwear and tugs it tight. " This dog- her fur darker than midnight, eyes so amber they are mistaken for red. Teeth so large they could promise death. BUT- this dog, she did not bark, she did not bite, and she had only love for anyone who came close. "

" She wasn’t like the other dogs- and her friends were only stray cats, yes- she learned bits of our language… IMAGINE " he pauses with a glance at his crowd. " She welcomed them to sleep- keep her company for she was a lonely soul… her fur was softer than any nest, her only words of cat’s tongue. please, stay " he whispers the last bit darkly. " please, stay… she says.. but a storm was coming- the strays did not. They couldn’t stay, for this rain would be heavy. " his brows crinkle in a scowl.

" The storm came indeed, and the waters of the bog swallowed her. Drowned and buried in the muck…. they say you can still hear her howls at midnight… ‘Please, stay’ …‘" he pauses.

" You ever feel so tired you can barely hold your eyes open?… well- it’s said, that’s when she comes for you. Her fur is matted with muck, her teeth even larger now, and her eyes a shade of blood red. She crawls from the swamp, and stalks the forest- searching for you. " he sweeps his eyes to the forest veiled with darkness.

" if you do not sleep. If you fight that feeling- it’s said she will drown you in the bog to be with her forever. " he finishes with a few pensive blinks. " The name Boggy bogey Doggie is for the kits… I believe her name is Shuck. " he drags his tongue over his jaws. " It’s also said- if you see her in the day, it’s a warning of death " he flicks his tail. " I don’t believe in flying frogs, nor four-legged birds. BUT, I do believe in a spirit with enough vengeance to haunt the world of the living " his smile returns to his listeners.

" Does anyone else have a story ?" he offers.

  • — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
    — daylight warrior of Skyclan
    — bisexual | fallen for Deersong 9.29.22
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
  • bVBPWus.png

  • Wow
Reactions: Daisyflight
Unsure of what had prompted him to stay late in Shadowclan that night, Flan would make himself comfortable as the clan gathered for a spooky story. He wasn’t quite sure where this story was going, but it had to be something good right? Otherwise Thistleback wouldn’t have bothered to tell the story. “I guess Sh-shadowclan? Yeah, Shadowclan has to worry about the boggy doggie thing then!” He’d laugh, nudging the cat beside him as he did. While he personally didn’t have a story to share, he did enjoy being able to listen to these weird stories these cats were telling him.

In a macabre twist of coincidence, Daisyflight found herself lulling into the gossamer fringes of sleep as Thistleback spun his tale. Dozing, she tuned into his mellifluous musings, the words falling feather light onto her doze-dim thoughts. The beginning drew no concern from her, a misunderstood hound with eyes of ruby and oil-black pelt. However, when imagery of a bubbling bog, swallowing a storm's wrath and the dog along with it, was conjured she couldn't help but grow uncomfortable. Not an enjoyable way to go... she reflected.

The calico began to blink awake at the peak of the drama, preparing to comment on the chilling event, when the silt-spine tom started up again.

"You ever feel so tired you can barely hold your eyes open?… well- it’s said, that’s when she comes for you."

Ah. All of a sudden, Daisyflight considered it best to succumb to her weariness. Tightening her coiled pose and nuzzling her nose deeper into the depth of her tail, the deputy fell away into to rest. Slack ears spilt over her sleep-soft expression, stirring with every breath.
I won't apologize for being who I am
Coyotekit swallows the lump forming within the realm of his throat as Thistleback confirms even his fear of the horrifying creature. What bothers him more is that the spiky tom affirms that he has seen it too. His mind races as he tries to recall a time when he might have witnessed the beast. But there have been moments late at night when he could hear the snapping of foliage that prompts him to snuggle closer to his "sister" Leopardcloud. Perhaps he was a lucky survivor. Coyote then settles in to listen to the old wives tale, awed at the thought of a dog actually being able to speak cat. But the story soon takes a dark turn that involves the poor dog loosing her life during a storm. A small shiver runs down the boy's spine as Thistle reveales that revenge fuels the canine's desire to drag her victims off and it is then that Coyote turns to see Daisyflight asleep. A sharp gasp clutches at his throat, fear so palpable that it causes his long spiky fur to fluff in several directions. "Daisyflight no!" He calls out, bounding over to the deputy's side. Rearing up on his hind legs he aims to place his forepaws upon her shoulder and shake her awake. "You can't go to sleep! The boggy doggie will get you!"
Tryna throw shade on me say a lot 'bout you