Chapter Text
There was something off with the neighborhood, he’d initially assumed, but it was starting to dawn on him that perhaps the issue was him—was Wally.
It wasn’t so obvious at first, like a gentle breeze nudging him into some unseen direction, but now? It was undeniable. There was no pushing it to the back of his mind while he brushed stroke after stroke onto his dearly beloved canvas. Perhaps it was a new development, or perhaps he simply hadn’t noticed in the rush and thrill of his neighborhood.
When it had started, it was easy to simply look the other way. And when it wasn’t, at the very least It hadn’t caused his neighbors too much trouble— but now? It had snowballed into something just awful— something that made Wally wish he could go back to that morning, and refuse the push when it was easy.
That he’d never looked under the crawlspace of his house, and into that empty, gaping pit, at all.
Light filtered in through the window of Wally’s room, rousing him to awareness. He sat up in his bed, and yawned dramatically in a vague mimicry of what he’d seen Sally do at one sleepover or another. He blinked as he removed his eye-mask to peer out into the slowly waking neighborhood.
The streets were empty—apart from Eddie in the distance, strolling past the clock tower on his regular mail route. The scene brought him the monotonous sort of comfort that marked his days better than a calendar ever could.
“What a beautiful day in Home, isn’t it neighbor?” he spoke into the open air, addressing no one in particular, and everyone watching. “Like everyday before today, and everyday after.”
A dull creaking came in from the rafters, like perhaps his house—his Home—was waking up alongside him. He pushed his heavy quilt off of his legs, scooting himself to the edge of the bed. Wally finished the phrase into the silence of his Home like he did yesterday, the day before that, and how he would the days to come.
“Good morning, Home.” Wally said, earning a groggy sounding rattle from the floorboards beneath his bed.
He wandered off to go and complete his morning routine— a routine he’d always had.
“Today, I’m going to experiment with my new watercolors.” Wally straightened out his ascot for the final time to satisfaction, and hummed the reminder to himself, like it would fly away from him in the next moment.
He paused in his room’s exit with the dull thought that maybe he should, before pinning the idea as just plain silly. Why would Wally—why would he intentionally forget what he wanted to do?
Something is off
That little voice inside his head whispered to him for the umpteenth time, but Wally shook it off. He had plans today, fun, important plans that wouldn’t fall flat just because he had an odd feeling or two. Maybe it was indigestion— something Wally had never felt himself, but Barnaby had told him could make any neighbor uneasy. Or was the word he used queasy? He followed the train of thought as he absent mindedly made his way through the house.
Wally barely caught a glimpse of his neat hedges out front when he patted down his pockets that distinctly lacked any watercolor-shaped items.
“Oh,” he murmured in puzzlement. “It seems like I’ve…forgotten.”
That was unlike him and he had the dull feeling that such a thought would become more commonplace. Regardless, he had watercolors to get to and a day to enjoy, so Wally stepped back into the kitchen he’d already walked through, where his brand new watercolors sat untouched on the table. His felt hand reached for the unassuming box and…didn’t.
Wally couldn’t reach for his watercolors.
He tried again, but his fingertips fell short of reach and refused to move any further. Wally could move his arm back to him just fine, but he could not—no matter what he tried—pick up what he’d forgotten.
“Home?” Wally addressed the room without tearing his eyes away from the paints on the table for even a second. “Could you pass me my watercolors, please?” It was no matter if Wally couldn’t reach them himself— whatever the reason may be—because Home was there to help.
However, there was no prattling of the cupboards or slam of any doors to indicate that Home had even heard. Maybe he… was still asleep? Or maybe he just didn’t particularly want to answer.
“Home?” He tried again, still receiving no answer. Wally stared into the silent house for a split second before belatedly shaking his head, and turning away.
“That’s odd.” He said, and turned to walk out the door, calling over his shoulder as he left, “Goodbye, Home.”
It wasn’t the end of the world that Home wasn’t speaking. Perhaps he simply wanted to have a quiet morning—that’s what Wally told himself. Somewhere, in the silent floorboards of his rarely quiet house a smaller, even tinier voice began to murmur.
He chose to ignore it, resolutely setting himself off to the post office.
Acknowledge me
“No, thank you.” Wally walked a little bit faster.
Wally settled beneath a shady oak tree with his sketchbook splayed out in front of him on his knees. A windy breeze shook the tree behind him, and the leaves quivered like they too, read the opening paragraph. He hummed some out-of-tune song as he sketched the post office, completely enraptured by the scratchy lines swooping, and paving their course down the page.
That morning he’d decided the lavender growing underneath its windows was just too pretty to ignore, and he had to paint it before the spring’s fast approaching end. Wally was just about finishing the rough edges of the lavender flowers, a serene smile pulling at the corners of his upturned mouth in anticipation for the best part.
Of course, when he reached for where his paints would usually be resting beside him, he found nothing was there. He had forgotten his watercolors at Home. Before he had much time to puzzle over if forgotten could be the right word, a distinctly Eddie-shaped shadow, and a whistling melody announced the presence of Home’s favorite mailman.
Eddie stopped in front of the post office door, and reached into his pocket. He dug around for a moment, and his jaunty tune came to an abrupt end as he realized he couldn’t find what he was looking for. He muttered something under his breath that Wally couldn’t quite make out, put his hands on his hips, and scanned the ground from top to bottom. He slowly spun around, and Wally could now see his furrowed brows as he dragged his eyes past the path, to the grass Wally was sitting on, until they finally landed on Wally himself.
“Oh—Heya, Wally!” The mailman greeted, the harsh edges of his face smoothing out to a brighter, more lax expression.
“Hi, Eddie.” Wally said, as the mailman walked forward, eventually coming to a stop a few feet ahead of where Wally was sitting.
“Watcha workin’ on over here?”
The eraser of Wally’s pencil tapped against the page, though he did not look down at it—he’d already seen it, and now he was looking at his neighbor. He didn’t want to feel rude by looking away. Though he’d been assured plenty, by his neighbors, that nobody minded a quick lapse in eye contact.
“I’m painting the post office, or…” He paused, hand again brushing over the white outline over where his paints decidedly were not. “I would be painting the post office, but I forgot my watercolors back at Home.”
The word forgot again came to his mind naturally, even though it was not what had happened. The small, tiny, minute voice from before tried to get his attention, through the same breeze that had been pleasant just a few minutes ago, but he buried it. He was not supposed to be worrying over what was sure to be nothing.
“Do you ever forget things, Eddie?”
“Of course I do.” He scoffed, “I don’t think there’s anybody in the world who doesn’t forget things— at least every once in a while, though…” He let go of his mail bag, allowing his hand to rub the back of his neck. “I’m, admittedly, a little more forgetful than some folks. I mean, just today I left the keys to my post office, uh… somewhere.” The hand on his neck rose to scratch his head, pushing his hat just slightly out of the way as he looked back at the route he’d taken.
Wally’s head tilted in confusion.
“But, Eddie, if you’re so forgetful, how come we always get all our letters, and packages on time? How come you don’t forget who’s is who’s?” Eddie hummed, his hand falling from his head and landing on his hip, as he looked to the ground, thinking.
“Well, I suppose that’s cause I give myself plenty’a reminders, that help me get through the day.”
“Reminders?” Wally said, “Like when you tell yourself what you’re going to do, before you do it?”
Wally thought back to the reminder he’d given himself that morning— how he’d forgotten anyway. Maybe he hadn’t given himself enough reminders? Eddie was quick to douse his self-doubt, however, with a quick shake of his head.
“Not quite, little fella.” His fingers tapped a rhythm into the hem of his slacks. “How to explain…” His brows furrowed together again, as he looked down the path he’d walked on his way to the post office. Then his face lit up. “Oh! I got it, how about you come with me while I look for my keys, and we can ask some of our neighbors about the reminders they keep for themselves?”
Wally was already closing his sketch book, bringing himself to his feet.
“Why, Eddie, that sounds like just the most.”
“Alright-y then.” Eddie’s jaunty tune filled in the natural gaps on their stroll where Wally didn’t, and he was grateful.
“How about,” Wally began suddenly, and it was like the words tickled at the insides of his throat, begging to be let out. “You try, and remember the last place you’ve seen them.”
“Now that’s a mighty fine idea!” Eddie grinned brilliantly, and put his hand onto his chin, tilting his head up to the sky.
“Yes, it’s just the most.” Wally responded a second too late to be natural, taking a moment to brush off whatever that was.
He hadn’t wanted to talk, it was why he’d been content just listening to Eddie whistle, as they made their way through the neighborhood. But he’d spoken anyway— had felt the need to.
He shook his head, like the movement would dispel his thoughts along with it.
“I got it!” Eddie snapped his felt fingers, and succeeded in making a dull thumping against the fluff of his palm. “I stopped to tie my shoes at Poppy’s just’a few minutes after I last used my keys to unlock Ms. Starlet’s fancy mailbox… maybe they slipped outta my pocket.”
“Oh, look.” Wally said with certain dread. “We’re at Poppy’s.”
He couldn’t describe what had him unsettled by the scene. Maybe it was that his words aligned a little too perfectly with the occasion, or maybe he was coming down with something. Whatever that meant. He’d heard Barnaby throw the phrase around a few times.
“Let’s take a look around then, little fella’.” Eddie tipped his hat and confidently strolled up to the mail slot on Poppy’s door.
He frowned at the ground like it had personally offended him, while Wally investigated the slit in the door. Regardless of what some pull told him to do, Wally would never be one to leave a neighbor without help.
Wally stared at the mail slot.
The mail slot stared at Wally, glinting invitingly in the warm sun.
Wally stuck his hand in.
Both Wally, and Eddie jumped as a loud squawk echoed through the neighborhood.
“H-hello?” Poppy said in response to the disembodied hand sneaking its way through her mail slot; Wally couldn’t imagine why she’d be bothered.
“Oh, huh? Wally—ahem.” Eddie noticed Wally’s hand, and gently led it away from where it was partially inside Poppy’s house. “Sorry ‘bout that Poppy! It’s just me, and Walls, we were lookin’ for my keys—I think I might’ve dropped ‘em round here.”
“Oh, thank the heavens!” Poppy peeked her head out her window, plumage puffed up like a porcupine. “I thought it might be an intruder! Or one of those pesky buggles that’ve been stirring up all that ruckus recently; you really shouldn’t scare me like that, dear.”
Scared?
“Oh, I'm sorry Poppy.” Wally said, even though he didn’t quite know what he was apologizing for.
“That’s quite alright.” Poppy said, and her feathers ruffled before settling back to their normal position.
“Well, it looks like my keys ain’t even here.” Eddie sighed. “Sorry fer botherin’ ya, Poppy.”
He began turning to leave, but quickly turned back at the sound of Wally’s voice.
"Weren't we going to ask Poppy, about what kind of reminders she keeps for herself?”
“Oh— yeah! I almost forgot.” Eddie chuckled, before looking up to Poppy. “Wally, and I have been havin’ a lil bit a trouble remembering things as’a late, so we were wonderin’ if you got any reminders we could use when our heads ain’t screwed on straight.”
He, and Poppy descended into snickers, and Wally’s monotone ‘ha, ha ha’ joined in the chorus more on reflex than any actual understanding. Luckily, his neighbors didn’t seem to mind the jarring sound. Poppy hummed, and brought her wing to her chin in consideration once the good humor died down.
“Well, I’m not too sure what I use in the way of reminders… would a kitchen timer count?”
“I don’t see why not.” Eddie assured her.
“A kitchen timer? But doesn’t that just let you know when your food is finished cooking?” Wally said incredulously—at least he thought it to be as such—in reality, it was only a minimal change in his inflection.
“Exactly.” Poppy said. “It reminds me to take the food out of the oven. Or… to have somebody else take the food out of the oven, anyway.” Her feathers quivered at just the mention of such a thing.
“I might have somethin’ similar, actually.” Eddie leaned down to Wally’s level, and held his wrist out for him to see. “This is my watch! It lets me know how much time I’ve got left in the day to get things done.”
“Oh.” Wally said, and smiled inquisitively with a tilt of his head. “I didn’t know that. Helpful.”
“It certainly is for me.” Poppy said affectionately. “Now, you boys should get going, I wouldn’t want to hold you up. Take care, would you?”
“We’ll be extra careful, just for you.” Eddie said with a tip of his hat. “Now all we gotta do is find those pesky keys.”
“Right.” Wally murmured, and followed Eddie readily.
Eddie continued to lead Wally down the path of the neighborhood with intention. Every time they passed a mailbox, Eddie never failed to stop, and look if he’d left his keys on the ground nearby. He hummed, eyes combing through long grass around Frank’s mailbox, before standing up straight, placing his hands on his hips.
“Looks like this is our next stop, Wally!”
Wally finally shifted his gaze away from Eddie, letting his eyes drag up the side of Frank’s house.
“Oh? What did you stop to do here, Eddie?” When he looked back at his neighbor, he was already walking up to the front door.
Wally followed behind him.
“Why, me, and Mr. Frankly had coffee togetha’ this mornin’.” He knocked on the door— a heavy, rhythmic sound. “I figure I might’a left my keys on the table or… I mean, they could be just anywhere, really.”
Before Wally had a chance to ask how the keys could be anywhere, if all they did was drink coffee, Julie’s cheerful voice rang through the door.
“Who is it?” She sing-songed, elongating the ‘i’ sound in a manner that never failed to confuse Wally.
“It’s Eddie!” The mailman tipped his hat to the peephole like he knew somebody was watching him from the other side. “And, Wally. Is Mr. Frankly there?”
“Hi Julie.” Wally greeted, deciding to also look at the peephole, in the absence of Julie’s face.
Her voice dropped in a dramatic kind of way, like Sally’s did when she was playing a villainous type of character.
“Julie? Who is this Julie you speak of? I know her, not!” Wally tilted his head to the side, and Eddie scratched his head in shared confusion.
“But, if you’re not our friend Julie, then who are you?”
Almost as if in answer to his question, the door swung open and revealed Julie— standing proudly in a green, hastily made, construction paper costume.
Oh! She was playing a game of pretend. Wally had almost thought it actually wasn’t Julie on the other side of the door. Wally began trying to figure out what she was dressed as. It was green, had paper claws that Julie was wearing as gloves, and two, spiky–looking wings.
“I am Jewel, the evil dragon!” She boomed, swinging her arms out to her sides. “I have taken control of this castle, and taken its residents as new pieces of my hoard!” She began to laugh malevolently, though, to anyone other than Wally, it would have come across as more of a maniacal giggle.
That didn’t stop Eddie from playing along, though.
“Oh no!” Eddie gasped, bringing his hands to the side of his head in his best approximation of complete, and abject horror. “That means Mr. Frankly’s in big trouble, Wally!”
“It does?”
“You bet your bottom it does, Sir Wally,” Julie—Jewel, the evil dragon—said. “Your beloved Prince Frank, is in absolute peril! I figure you two knights are here to save him, hmm?” She crossed her arms, clicking her paper claws against her sleeve.
“Darn tootin’ we are! We wouldn’t want our pal, Mr— uh— I mean, Prince Frankly, to be stuck sittin’ on some dusty ol’ pile of gold, would we, sir Wally?” Eddie nudged him, prompting him to play along.
Not that Wally needed convincing to play a game with his friends.
“No, we would not.” Wally nodded in agreement. “If Frank is stuck in a hoard all day, how can we get his help finding your keys?”
“Then it looks like we’re in agreement.” Eddie finalized. “We’re here to save the prince.”
“Well then…” The dragon squinted, eyes flicking between the two knights. There was a beat of silence, before she stepped back, flourishing dramatically. “Come on in!”
Eddie was still for a moment, caught off guard by the dragon’s welcoming invitation. Eventually, he pulled himself back to his senses with a shake of his head, and stepped into the house… castle, waving for Wally to follow him inside.
The dragon began to giggle again, and the door was closed behind them with an unsettling creak.
The moment the door closed, the room transformed from Frank’s living room, to an eerie dungeon, in contrast to the sunny world they’d left behind them. Shadows concealed every form in the room, turning them into monster-like figures in the dark. The dragon slinked around them, making Eddie jump as she brushed past his shoulder. She stalked into the shadows, leading them through the long, narrow, hallways.
“Do you like what I’ve done with the place?” Her bright voice did nothing to lighten the darkness of the room. “I studied interior design when I was a hatchling, you know, but I dropped out of school to work on my hoard.”
“Sure is… homey, in here.” Eddie removed his hat, ringing it in his hands as he spoke. His eyes flitted around, like something was going to jump out at him. “The blocked out windows really, uh— it really… encloses the space. Real cozy.”
“Thanks!” She didn’t seem to pick up the way Eddie’s voice was shaking—and even Wally picked up on that.
“I know you mortal guys can’t see too great in the dark, but thankfully, I don’t have that problem! I have excellent night vision, so, just stick close to me—”
The dragon cut herself off as she smacked into the wall at the end of the hallway.
“Owwie!” She whined, pulling away from the traitorous foundation while holding her nose with her hand.
“That hurt!”
Eddie stepped closer to her, but before he had a chance to ask if she was okay she had already recovered, turning the corner, and leading them away.
“This is it.” She said, voice dropping into the menacing tone she’d used before as they slowed to a stop in front of a door. It was Frank’s room, if Wally remembered correctly—he’d only been this far into the house once or twice. “My hoard—and therefore your charming prince—are just on the other side of this door.”
She moved out of the way of the knights, and Eddie cautiously stepped forward. His hand wrapped around the doorknob, and with just a hesitant glance back at the dragon, he pulled the door open.
Light flooded the hallway immediately, hurting Wally’s eyes. He reflexively brought his hands to cover them, and kept them covered for a moment as he made his way to Eddie’s side. A hand landed gently on Wally’s back, and out of curiosity at the sudden silence of his friends, he peeked into the room from behind his fingers.
It was a very pretty scene, Wally had to admit. A warm glow was spread throughout the room, dappling the floor through a tree outside the window. The light, pleasing green of the wallpaper— that turned a near grey in the shaded spots— went beautifully with the brown of the carpet. There was a bed in the far right corner of the room, and an empty bookshelf, and writing desk mirroring it in the far left, creating a perfect composition.
But of course, like any painting, the best part was the focus.
Surrounded by piles, upon piles of books, reading while sitting on his favorite chair, was Frank—like a king sitting on his throne. Thanks to the construction paper crown sitting on his head, however, Wally remembered he was actually a prince sitting on a dragon’s hoard.
Wally looked up at Eddie to find him similarly enraptured with the beauty of the moment. He was stalled with his hand still gripping the doorknob, eyes wide, cheeks growing a dusty pink. Frank took a long while to notice them, so engrossed in whatever book he was reading he hadn’t heard the door open. It took the dragon clearing her throat for him to look up, and share his surprise with their presence.
“Mr. Dear? Wally? What are you doing here?”
His eyes flickered between the two, before eventually landing on Julie’s giggling, costume-fitted, frame, looming behind them.
“...on second thought, I’m not sure I want to know.”
The dragon pushed past Eddie, and Wally regardless, standing in front of them as she began to explain.
“You see, I am a dragon, as established—but I do not hoard riches, or gold—nay. I hoard knowledge!!”
She stepped out of the way, holding her arms out in Frank’s direction like she was showcasing a grand prize. She then began to circle the pile of books, scraping her claws over any particularly tall stacks.
“You see, when I sieged this castle I already knew I would be adding Prince Frank’s books to my hoard—his collection is so big, it’s like its own hoard!”
Frank was listening now. His book was closed, and sitting on his lap as he watched the dragon circle him, doing his best to learn the rules of the game he didn’t seem to know he was playing before they’d come to save him.
“But when I met him, I realized he was so dang smart, my hoard just couldn’t stand without him!” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “He can answer any question in the world, you know?”
Frank affectionately rolled his eyes as Julie softly bumped her head against his.
“Just watch—ahem.” She cleared her throat once more, moving to a spot where she could comfortably look him in the eyes. “Prince Frankly, what is my favorite color?”
He snorted at the absurdity, but humored her anyway.
“Pink, and your second favorite is yellow.” He crossed his arms in challenge.
“And my favorite kind of bug?” She leaned closer to him, hands on her hips.
“Easy,” He scoffed, “It’s manduca quinquemaculata, more commonly known as the tomato hornworm caterpillar.”
“And my favorite book!?”
“Your diary!” She squealed excitedly, standing up straight, and spinning in a circle while flapping her hands.
“See?? He knows everything!” The dragon said triumphantly. “If you want to take him from my hoard, I’ll need a very hefty replacement.”
Wally wasn’t sure what that meant. Did she want another book? Or maybe two? He turned his attention to Eddie, hoping he may have an idea, only to find he was still frozen solid at Wally’s side.
“Eddie?” Wally said, tugging on his mail bag to get his attention.
“Oh—huh?” He met Wally’s eyes briefly, then looked back up at Frank, and Julie, who were watching them expectantly. “Sorry… what were we talking about?”
“The dragon needs a replacement for Frank in her hoard.” Wally explained.
The dragon nodded, rocking on the balls of her feet.
“Well uh—we can… do that?” His voice ticked up at the end, which was not very reassuring. “What kinda replacement were you thinkin’? I could tell you about tell you about stamps, or—”
While Eddie spoke, the dragon cartwheeled across the room, and landed in front of him. She cut him off with a finger to his mouth.
“I have the perfect idea!”
She pulled her finger away, placing it to her own chin.
“Two hundred something years ago I was working on a group project with a dragon associate—this was at interior design school—and he told me this riddle, but before I could get the answer, he died! I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.”
What did the dragon dying their hair have to do with finishing a riddle? Wally almost asked, but Frank beat him to the punch.
“What kind of design project was this that it led to him dying??”
The dragon turned back to him with a shrug.
“We were decorating the inside of an active volcano."
Frank made a slight face of distaste, but he didn’t interrupt Julie as she continued.
“Anyway, if you could tell me the answer to the riddle, then I suppose it would be satisfying enough to help me cope with the loss of this incredibly intelligent prince.”
“I reckon we could do that for ya, couldn’t we, Walls?” Eddie placed his hands on his hips, and Wally found himself mirroring the posture with a nod.
Just because he didn’t understand the circumstances of the riddle being unanswered didn’t mean they couldn’t figure it out.
“Hooray!!” The dragon threw her hands up in the air, then plopped to the floor in front of Frank’s chair. Eddie, and Wally both moved to sit across from her.
“Okay, so say you are decorating a volcano—you’re working with fifteen chairs, six rugs, twelve tables, thirty eight paintings. How many didn’t?”
Thirty-eight paintings? What a specific number. It felt a bit out of place. Wally looked to find Eddie just as addled.
“How many what?” Eddie scratched his head.
“How many didn’t!” She exclaimed. “It’s confusing, right?”
“Very.” Eddie agreed.
Wally also thought it was confusing. Too many paintings, too little words. Frank clicked his tongue, and Wally’s gaze moved past Julie to see him grab another book, and a pen from under his chair—his journal.
As Eddie, and Julie continued to discuss the riddle, Wally watched Frank write something out, and then hold it up for Wally to read.
Thirty ATE paintings.
“Oh.” Sound came out of Wally’s throat before he could think. “It’s ate, as in eating. The riddle is asking how many pieces of furniture didn't eat the paintings, if thirty of them did.”
“Ohhh,” Julie, and Eddie both said, the realization dawning on them.
They set off from there, doing the simple addition in Frank’s borrowed journal as Wally thought. He had spoken again, without meaning to. Not only that, it was something he didn’t even understand. The riddle still made no sense to him, but he explained it nonetheless. Earlier, he’d been happy to enjoy a quiet walk with his neighbor, something prompted him to speak anyway. That morning, he wanted to grab his watercolors, but he couldn’t. Whatever was going on today was beginning to frustrate him. Things were happening that he couldn’t control. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be—he didn’t think so, anyway. If it was, then why hadn’t it been like this before? Things were changing, when they weren’t supposed to.
Wally’s hands balled into fists.
“…the answer to the riddle is three, then.” Eddie said as Wally tuned back into the world around him, circling the answer twice with his pen. “Three pieces of furniture didn’t eat paintings.”
“That’s it!!” Julie exclaimed, springing to her feet, and yanking Eddie up with her. “We did it! We figured it out!”
Wally clapped a beat behind everyone else as they celebrated, not bothering to keep up appearances.
“So, does that mean we can take the prince with us?” Eddie asked. The dragon’s smile quickly faded, and was replaced by a dour expression.
“Oh! Right, I did promise you that, didn’t I?” She groaned, before begrudgingly looking over her shoulder. “Alright. Prince Frankly?”
Frank looked up from his book—he must’ve disengaged from the chatter after giving Wally the answer. He closed it as the dragon continued to talk.
“I am quite sad to say this, but you are free to leave my hoard. These two fine knights have offered me a sufficient replacement for your endless knowledge. I hope you continue to share what you know.” She bowed dramatically, causing her ponytail to flop over the front of her face.
The prince stood, and tucked his book under his arm.
“Thank you, Ms. Dragon.” He bowed back. When he stood back up, he was smiling. “You know, I would be happy to come by, and give my knowledge to you, just… perhaps under more consenting circumstances next time?”
The dragon gasped.
“Really??”
“Most certainly.”
Again, she squealed, wrapping the prince up into what had to be a bone crushing hug.
“Ohhh thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!!” She let go of him, and quickly skipped over to seat herself in his chair. “I’ll be waiting here for our next rendevous—after I finish moving in the rest of my hoard, of course.”
And with that, she waved the prince, and his two knights goodbye as they left the room. As they stepped into the hallway, Frank was quick to flick the lights on, and what had once felt like a twisted, dark, corridor, was now just Frank’s hallway.
“Thank you for saving me, Mr. Dear.”
“Hm? Oh, it was no trouble, Mr. Frankly. All we did was solve some silly ol’ riddle.” Eddie said, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.
“It was hardly silly! I mean, it wasn’t particularly complicated, but it wasn’t nearly as easy as the questions I was asked.” He chuckled. “I suppose you… deserve a reward. For all of your knightly efforts, hmm?”
He inched closer to Eddie.
“Oh? What uh… kinda reward were you thinkin’?”
Wally watched from beside them, and before he could understand why he needed to intervene, he was speaking again.
“Maybe, we could get Frank’s help looking for your keys, Eddie.”
The two jumped at his sudden self inclusion into the conversation. They had clearly forgotten Wally was there—not an uncommon issue.
“...what happened to your keys, Mr. Dear?” Frank’s eyes turned to Eddie, and whatever unfamiliar emotion Wally had seen in his expression mere moments ago was lost.
“I misplaced them earlier this mornin’.” Eddie explained. “Wally here was helping me look for ‘em.”
Wally nodded.
“Eddie says he had coffee with you this morning, and that he could have left them anywhere.”
“Yeah.” Eddie agreed. “Have you seen ‘em around?”
"Hmmm…" Frank waved for the two to follow him as he continued down the hallway. "I can't say I have, but if you're sure you left them here, then you're welcome to…"
He trailed off as flicked on the overhead light of the living room, pausing at the entrance.
The room was more fit for a wild racoon than an actual person—much less one Frank Frankly. The couch was precariously balanced on it's side, somehow vertical, and Wally almost thought to ask where the cushions were before he found them taped to the windows. Windows that distinclty lacked curtains, which had been cannibalized to create a canopy over the space.
For the ambiance, Wally assumed.
A tremble started in Frank's grey hands, and Eddie stepped in, mouth open with what was likely soothing intent when he was interupted by a whistle. Sure enough, Franks head had begun to spin in circle as though it was unnatached to his non-existent neck. Eddie reflexively put his hands over the sides of Frank's head, like he'd done so before—effectively stopping it in it's tracks.
"JULIE!!" Frank shouted, turning the rest of his body around to face the hallway.
"Yeah?" She yelled back.
"What in the world happened down here!?"
"Just a second!"
There was the sound of a door opening, and footsteps down the hallway as Julie's head appeared around the corner.
"Oh! You mean my interior decoration." She walked to stand beside Frank. "I wanted to make it dark in here. For my game!"
"You couldn't just close the curtains??"
"They were too thin! Besides, they make such nice canopies, don't you think?"
Frank seethed for just a moment longer, before taking in a deep breath of air. His hands stopped their quivering as he released his breath. He then turned back to Eddie, folding his hands behind his back.
"Well… I'm pretty sure if your keys were here, Mr. Dear, Julie would have found them while tearing apart my living room."
Julie shrugged.
"Nope! No keys found by this monster, sorry."
Eddie sighed, placing his hands on his hips.
"Darn. I thought we had 'em this time."
"Didn't you have a spare set of keys?" Frank asked. "Y'know, kept under the welcome mat or something, in case of this exact situation?"
Eddie smiled sheepishly.
"I did! But uh— funny thing is, I may have… forgotten where I keep 'em."
The group kept their eyes on him, simply absorbing the irony of his words for a moment. Frank eventually brought a hand up to rub the space between his eyes, something he often did when another neighbor 'did something foolish', as Wally had heard him say many times in the past.
"We… we better get outta your hair, and let you get this mess cleaned up." Eddie said, placing a hand on Wally's back to lead him out of the house.
As they reached the door, Wally's feet stopped, and he turned back around to Frank, and Julie.
"Frank? Julie?" He said, wanting to catch their attention once again without knowing why. "What kinds of reminders do you keep for yourselves, so you don't forget things?"
"Reminders?" Frank hummed, bringing his hand to his non existent chin. "Hmm… I keep a planner in my field journal."
"You mean this journal?" Julie asked, pulling the book out from behind her back. Frank snatched it back from her.
"Look here, Wally." He crossed the living room, meeting Wally in the middle, and crouching to show him the front page in his book.
Inside was a table, that had every box in the first colum labelled as a day of the week, and the first box of every colum after labelled with an hour. Each box had words scribbled into it—plans, Wally figured.
"Everytime I open my journal, I'm reminded of everything I have to do during the week." He pointed to a box. "Today, Julie, and I are supposed to have a picnic."
"Oh, yay!" Julie said from where she leaned over them. "I'd forgotten about that."
"What do you do to remember things, Julie?" Wally said, looking at the rainbow monster over his shoulder.
"Have Frank remind me."
Frank shut his journal, hoisting himself to his feet.
"Yes, that does seem to be how we usually do things, isn't it? So I'd like to remind you that today's picnic, has been unfortunately post-poned. We need to clean up the remnants of the colorful tornado that passed through my living room this morning."
"Aw, man!" Julie groaned.
"You should go help Mr. Dear with his key hunt." Frank said to Wally, pointing him to the door, where Eddie stood, and watched the scene. "Julie, and I have things handled here."
"Have a good one, you two!" Eddie tossed over his shoulder as they left the house, and headed down the road towards the bodega.
Wally opened the door to the bathroom, flicking on the light. He grabbed the colorful stepping stool kept by the door, and dragged it to the sink so he could see himself in the mirror.
"The keys weren't at the bodega, either." He told Home, reaching over the sink to grab his toothbrush. "Howdy checked the lost and found box, and everything, but couldn't find them! He did find some old game pieces, a pen, and Barnaby's pipe, from before he stopped smoking."
Everyone brushed their teeth at night—it was something normal, like sleeping, so Wally brushed his 'teeth' as well. He perservered through the uncomfortable wetness that soaked the felt of his mouth. At least it wasn't as bad as warm tea, or cold milkshakes, or Home forbid one of Frank's jello molds—he'd much prefer to enjoy those treats with his eyes.
"When we went back to the post office to look for Eddie's spares, Sally was waiting for us outside. Turns out, Eddie left his keys in her mail box! Ha, ha ha." The cabinets below the sink fluttered open, and close, squeaking along with Wally's laughter. "She spent the whole day looking for Eddie, so she could return them."
He turned the faucet on to wash his face, but paused to watch the water run.
Today had been fun, all things considered. He got to learn about Eddie's routine, had fun playing pretend with Julie, and Frank, and was able to laugh over wonderful irony with Sally. He had the vague idea in his head that none of it would have happened if he hadn't forgotten his water colors.
Thinking back to that morning, he found the memory felt… fuzzy. He thought he remembered being blocked—like some invisible force was holding him back, but he felt like he couldn't be sure. Perhaps, he'd imagined ever going back into his kitchen at all.
Another part of him thought that couldn't be right—the same part that whsipered to him through hushed floorboards, and chilling breezes—it knew he had remembered. It was urging him to ask questions.
"…Home?" The cabinet by his feet creaked open again, bumping against the plastic stool. "What happened this morning, in the kitchen?"
Home was quiet for a moment. That moment turned into a few moments, then a minute, and Wally's brow furrowed at his silence.
"Home." He repeated, trying to make his voice sterner. "Did you—"
He was cut of by the tiles of the counter rattling, a long string of shorts, and longs—morse code.
'you forgot your water colors'
Wally wanted to believe them. He felt himself believing them—the memory from that morning grew distant again. He'd been in the kitchen, his water colors were on the table, and he hadn't grabbed them. That was all he could remember from that morning. The only evidence that Home was lying to him was that he'd been questioning them in the first place.
But that's evidence, that little, disconcerting part of him was insisting, you can't let yourself forget like this.
He wanted to believe himself, too.
Wally stuck his hands under the running water, and splashed it onto his face. It was warm—was that why he'd left it running? To warm it up? He grabbed his facial cleanser from it's place on the counter, and looked into the mirror only to startle.
For a split second—just a moment—the eyes staring back at him through the mirror felt like somebody else's. There were extra eyes on him—Home's, of course, yours, and… somebody else.
The feeling was gone as quickly as it had appeared, when Wally saw nobody but himself in the mirror. He glanced around the bathrooom, checking for somewhere the eyes could have come from—a person standing at the door waiting for his attention, perhaps? Or a bug that had snuck its way inside without somehow alerting Home to its presence?
He found nothing.
Wally watched the bathroom's open doorway for a while, and eventually came Home's worried taps at his sudden change in attitude.
Don't tell him—he's lying to you.
"I'm alright, Home." Wally said. "We should go to bed—it's getting late."
Wally didn't bother with the rest of his nightly routine as he hopped off of the stepping stool, and left it at the sink to go to his bedroom.
Wally sat on the edge of his bed, thinking for a moment.
His memories were slipping through his fingers like water. He couldn't remember what he was concerned about with Home, had forgotten his water colors that morning—no, he'd forgotten that he hadn't forgotten his water colors. Was that why he'd been upset?
His memory clouded up again, like the cobwebs that gathered in the un-dusted corners of his house were now sticking together in his head. Is this how Eddie felt when he forgot things?
Eddie.
Wally reached out, and began digging through his nightstand drawer.
He pulled out a stack of 'sticky notes', as Howdy had called them, while explaining how he remembered to organize the shelves, and which products went where. The stack had been sitting in there for a very long time, and Wally always wondered what they were for; now he knew that they were for reminders.
The shutters clattered in a questioning way as Wally grabbed a pen from the same drawer, and tapped the end against the yellow paper.
"I'm writing myself a reminder." He explained, uncapping the pen with a pop.
But what to write? He hummed, mulling over a few ideas in his head before deciding to keep it simple.
He got up from bed, and left the room to head to his kitchen. The watercolors were still sitting on the table. This time he had no trouble scopping them up—a part of him was convinced he'd never even be able touch them—and sticking the sticky-note to the lid.
You didn't forget.