The thundering grumble of your motorcycle engine roaring to life drowned out your chattering thoughts, replacing them with a gentle rumble that washed over your endless worries like a wave, soothing them if only for a moment.

Pulling out of the long winding driveway of a teal Victorian home, you double checked to make sure you still had the several boxes secured to your pillion; you certainly didn't want them falling off now that they were all that remained of your mother's legacy.

Your mother had passed away a few weeks ago due to a heart condition and now you were returning back to your quaint home after receiving the items she left for you in her will. Truthfully, you knew she probably only left you the junk she had lying around, you were never really on good terms with the woman- not since you took up a profession as a vocalist.

She always claimed that singing would get you nowhere and that you should be more like your siblings; Marcus and Chelsey, who went on to become a lawyer and accountant respectively. Though, of course, every family has their black sheep and here you were, decked out in black leather with a deep green shirt being the only colour on your person- unless you counted the rainbow decal on your motorcycle helmet.

Huffing out a sigh, you revved your engine and turned down the winding road leading to your home, dialing up your music to drown out the chaos of the world.

It wasn't long till your bland, cream coloured home came into view, a stark contrast from the earthy wilderness that surrounded it. You had been lucky to have found it on the housing market for such a cheap price and with the assistance of your father's trust fund, you were now a humble home owner.

Though its affordable price was probably due to how distant you were from your neighbors and the few murders that took place there. Yep, that's right, a whole family was killed by their eldest daughter around fifteen years ago- you blamed the shitty floral wallpaper, that stuff would be enough to drive anyone crazy.

Parking your motorcycle within the tight unfinished garage, you slipped off of the seat, kicking a few wooden boards out of your way as you went to undo the straps which held the boxes of what was most definitely your mother's old trash, but hey, maybe she gave you something of value. Though you wouldn't know until you got it into your house and opened it.

Removing the cables from your pillion and taking the boxes in your arms, you stumbled through your garage, having forgotten how damn heavy these things were. Growling out obscenities as you stubbed your toe on a nearby toolkit, you briskly headed through the garage entry of your home, hitting the button to shut the garage door as you went.

As soon as you made it to your living room, you sighed out in relief, letting the boxes within your grasp fall onto your coffee table with a dull thud, the contents within the bottom box clattering loudly.

"Alright, let's see what dear old mom left for me." you whispered to yourself, plopping down on your sofa and kicking off the leather boots you had forgotten to remove at the door due to your overwhelming curiosity as to what may be residing inside the dusty boxes.

Surely your mother wouldn't have actually left you with only junk, hell, your siblings both received tens of thousands of dollars worth of your mother's belongings, it would only make sense she would do the same for you. However, glancing over the worn boxes, you were starting to lose hope that your mother was as fair as you remembered her to be.

Shifting the bottom conatiner over to yourself you began the process of unfolding the top and opening it. The dilapidated box easily gave into your efforts, opening within seconds and you were both disappointed and confused as to what lay inside.

VHS tapes, loads of them, all covered in blank white stickers with the title 'Welcome Home' written on it in cursive, though not just any cursive, it was your father's. And right in the middle, atop the stacked VHS tapes, was a VHS player coated in a fine layer of dust.

Running your fingers along the silver and black VCR, collecting the grime that built up on it, you let out a disappointed sigh. "Of course mom would never give me her stuff, she just gave me the rest of dad's."

Unlike your relationship with your mother that had slowly deteriorated over the years, yours and your father's relationship was strong and full of love- until the accident. You were in the car when it happened, coming home from piano lessons when a hot vermillion truck blew through a red light and t-boned your dad's small little teal SUV. The doctors said he died on impact and that he didn't suffer and you know he didn't, but that did not make being trapped in the car with his corpse anymore bearable. Hence why you own a motorcycle, the mere thought of being in a car was beyond frightening.

Pushing the box with your dad's tapes away from you, you moved on to the next box, holding little faith that this one would contain any of your mothers items either. Prying open the cardboard flaps, you jolted back in shock as you were greeted by the wide open eyes of a puppet staring back at you blankly from the confines of the box.

The things' eyes were massive, its pupils a black charcoal colour and glossed over as though a new varnish had been applied recently. Its skin a sunny yellow hue with light pink dusting over its round cheeks, a striking blue pompadour to contrast it and it was clothed in a red ascot, with a white dress shirt which was greatly covered up by a sea blue sweater and colourful striped pants that went all the way down to its black and white dress shoes.

Clutching the fabric over your heart you grumbled out half formed profanities at the unexpected scare, knowing that if either your mother or father were watching from above they'd be laughing at the little fright you just had. You glared down at the smiling puppet, gently reaching into the box to closer inspect the large doll.

With careful hands you lifted the brightly coloured puppet into the air before you, spinning it around and inspecting the seams, analyzing it in case of wear and tear. However, for something so old it couldn't have looked newer. The felt skin still soft beneath your touch, along with its hair and clothes, the stitching showing no indication of falling apart anytime soon and, oddly enough, there was not a speck of dust on it.

"Huh, aren't you a peculiar thing." you mused, propping the doll up on the table in front of you with a soft smile.

Your dad had always had a thing for puppets, you grew up on the Muppets and Sesame Street because of him. But wait! That reminded you! Despite having watched every puppet show known to man, your father still said you hadn't seen one and that once he found it, he'd introduce you to his favourite show- yet that never happened, the accident taking his life beforehand.

Was this the puppet show he wanted you to watch? Your eyes glossed over the box full of VHS tapes. Had your mom hidden it away from him? What would she have gained from that?

A curious hum reverberated through your chest as you brought the large puppet over to the dark wooden shelving unit in the corner of the room that matched the heavily tinted walls- you had to cover up that disgusting wallpaper somehow!

Setting the vibrant doll down on the middle of the three shelves, you snickered at how out of place it was amongst your less than colourful displays. It looked like a fly on a wedding cake, something so incredibly noticeable. But hey, if your dad cared about this stringless marionette, the least you could do was honour his memory by keeping it on display and out of some grimy box.

Returning to your place on the couch, you gave the doll's box one more look over before you started installing the VCR and noticed something tucked within the bottom fold of the cardboard- a slip of paper. Dislodging the cardstock from where it was wedged, you straightened out the creases, discovering words written in your father's fancy cursive; Wally Darling

You smirked down at the name card, thumb brushing over your dad's writing before facing the puppet slouching against your shelf. "Wally Darling, huh. A lovely name." you praise the colourful doll.

Hah! Look at you now, talking to inanimate objects. Maybe your life of seclusion was finally starting to get to you. Next thing you know you'll be shipped off to the looney bin along with the rest of the folks who spoke to invisible people and household objects. This was all probably the wallpaper's fault- you hated seeing the disgusting neon pink peonies every time you entered your mudroom.

A sigh falling from your lips, you pressed the pads of your fingers to your temple, swirling them in order to help alleviate the building headache. Your mother's death was beginning to take its toll on you. Even with the resentment that festered in your relationship with her, she was still your mother and she wasn't all that bad, a little controlling perhaps, but not terrible.

Ugh, whatever, you just needed to take your mind off of it. Hopefully setting up your dad's VHS player would draw away your thoughts, at least for the time being.

Getting the VCR hooked up to your flat screen tv was a chore and half with how old the system was, but you managed. Though you didn't notice how the puppet's inky eyes followed your movements or how its head shifted to trail after you whenever you left its line of sight, far too busy with the aged technology.

—

Wally's eyes stared up at the blank ceiling of his navy blue bedroom, his fingers tapping along the rainbow striped comforter as he waited for Home's response to his revelation.

"They're moving me, Home. I don't know where. I just hope wherever it is will involve them removing me from that box." The amber puppet voiced his wishes to Home, his sentient house, hoping to encourage a response from it. He always valued his friends' opinions and he could really use Home's right now.

A silence remained heavy over the house for a few moments after Wally's words until, finally, a creak of a window answered him.

A faint smile grew on Wally's face. "Yes, a new friend outside would be delightful, especially since the last one..." his thoughts trailed off, no longer forming as sentences, rather remaining inside his mind where something had caught his attention.

"The box has been opened, Home." A door closed gently, enticing a grin on the doll's face. "Let's meet our new friend..."

Opening his awareness to the Outside- a realm beyond his own that held a different, more fragile version of himself within it- he was suddenly aware of the figure that hovered over him, a curious gleam in their eye.

With delicate hands, the person pulled his limp form out of the dilapidated box his physical body had been trapped in for over a decade. To say he was tired of the cramped space would be an understatement- there were only so many rats attempting to defile him that he could eat before he got sick of it.

Gently the person started the process of analysing his state and ensuring no harm had come to him from his confined imprisonment, which there wasn't, he ensured that nothing had soiled his dignity over the years.

As you looked him over, he returned the gesture, making sure not to move his eyes and frighten you- most people on the Outside don't take kindly to animate puppets, at least those without a puppeteer.

He took in your beautiful appearance, your face a perfect match for the body it came with, even if it was clothed in such dark colours. Looking over your features, he noticed an immediate resemblance to his former friend- ah, that's why. You must be his past friend's child. What'd he say your name was again? He gave himself a moment to speculate your name as you continued to scour him for signs of disrepair.

Ah, yes. Your name came to his mind after a few slightly botched versions almost swayed him into believing they were correct. How could he have forgotten such a lovely name?

His thoughts came to a grinding halt as you walked him over to your ornate shelf and sat him atop it with practiced care, shuffling his limbs around so he wouldn't fall when you let go of him. He mentally thanked you for that, he wouldn't have revealed himself to you had you dropped him, but the landing would've been rather unpleasant.

Flashing him one last smile, he watched your form retreat back to the couch until something from within the box he had been trapped in caught your eye. You reached in and he knew exactly what you had found, the piece of cardstock you pulled out only verifying his assumption.

"Wally Darling, huh. A lovely name." you beamed up at him before hastily averting your gaze to begin the process of setting up your father's VCR.

Wally had to hold back the grin that wanted to light up his face from your compliment. He had just met you and already you were proving yourself to be quite charming, a trait he thought he had claimed for himself. It reminded him of your father, the older man had always known his way around words and how to effortlessly appeal to others.

Truly he was sad your father had passed on his offer, if he had just taken him up on it maybe he wouldn't have met such a cruel fate as death- a practically unknown concept to a puppet- but it's alright, you wouldn't have the opportunity to decline his proposal.

He just had to make sure you were the right fit for the role.