Perla Vardo, The Forgotten Toy

I don't know what to write about, so I'll just do a short story. I have no idea, plot, or anything really. I'll just let it flow and hope that an alright result comes forth.

Long, long ago, there was a little pile of fluff named Perla Vardo. He lived in a great old house, that creaked in the night, like old houses often do. He was a yellow plush toy, shaped somewhat like a cat or dog, hand sewn by some caring mother's hand. Several bits of fabric were patched in some places, often with fabric an entirely different color than his natural yellow. He had green eyes, and the insides of his ears were pink. Certain individuals would call him "malevolent", even though he was anything but. In his opinion, of course.

Sure, he was often a mischievous toy, but nothing more than the tan horse, dusty on the shelf, who often would mention that he was too breakable to touch. And he wasn't nearly as arrogant as the tin solder, in his crisp red uniform, and his gold buttons. Even though the other toys had plenty of adventures themselves, enough to fill volumes of books, this story will focus on old, forgotten, Perla.

Every now and then, Perla and the other toys would wonder why there was no humans in the house. Did they at one point have owners, but then the owners moved away? They didn't have any memory of it, all the toys had had always just remembered living the house. Once or twice, they had asked the oldest toy there, an aging teddy bear named Tu, if he knew anything about it. Even at the best of times, Tu could only manage a word or two through the frayed piece of fabric, half as long as it used to be, that served as his mouth. On one occasion, when they asked him about it, he limply rose his left arm halfway in the air, and mumbled something about "ruranog cumign". The other animals supposed that he was simply deranged, and took no heed to his words (which sounded like gibberish to them, anyway).

To be continued, cause I'm too lazy to write it all today...