7″Mangrove'Wing sprawled out in his nest, his bony frame sinking into the mossy, patchwork bedding that smelled faintly of decaying leaves and stale earth. His back paws were propped lazily in the air, claws flexing with each stretch as he reached for something beyond the rough ceiling of his den. A soft mumble escaped his muzzle, barely a whisper, as he gazed with unfocused crimson eyes, fixed on apparitions only he could see.
The air was thick, carrying a pungent blend of sour milk, old bones, and damp fur. It clung to the back of his throat, the spoiled milk twisting his stomach in a way that he found both familiar and strangely comforting. His gaze followed the wisps of phantom figures flitting just above him, their forms wavering and shifting like smoke. Occasionally, one seemed to hover closer, whispering secrets he couldn't quite hear but somehow understood.
A flicker of frustration crossed his face as his claws sliced through empty air. His movements were erratic, each swipe more insistent than the last, as if he might grasp these spectral shapes, pull them close, and finally glean the answers they seemed to offer just out of reach. His left eye, blind and scarred, barely tracked the visions, but his good eye blazed with a feverish intensity, reflecting the faint, ethereal glow of his ghostly companions.
"They never stop," he muttered, his voice a low rasp. "Always whispering... always hiding…" The words trailed off, swallowed by the dim silence that filled his lonely den.
One paw reached toward a particular shadow that seemed to coil above him, dark and formless, its edges twisting like smoke against the low light filtering in from a crack in the den’s walls. It was Smokey, he thought, his ever-haunting twin, taunting him even in this half-dream, half-reality state. His jaws parted in a growl, sharp teeth bared, though the decaying state of his gums ached with the effort.
As his paws fell back to his chest, Mangrove'Wing's breaths grew shallow. His ribs rose and fell, frail under his shaggy pelt, as he murmured secrets into the silence. He wanted answers from the spirits—no, he demanded them. Why he was still here, lingering like a ghost himself, exiled from the barn and haunted by shadows no other cat could see.
Another flicker passed overhead, a flicker of icy blue that reminded him of the leafbare frost on dark mornings. His heart skipped a beat, and his claws dug deeper into his nest, refusing to let go of this silent vigil.
And so he lay there, back paws still raised like a skeleton frozen mid-struggle, his unseeing gaze never wavering from the invisible procession. The ghostly figures drifted above him, silent and ever-watchful as he drifted between waking and dreaming, trapped in the eternal dance with memories that had long since faded, yet clawed at his mind as fiercely as if they were still alive.
Comments
3Yeah, no...bye! (3
Creator
Pinned
23/11/2024
𓆩Scout_Gaming𓆪
24/12/2024
𓆩Scout_Gaming𓆪
10/11/2024