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Holly had never seen a place so beautiful. It felt like being inside a dream. The grass was a deep, vibrant green, the kind of green you only ever see in television commercials; the temperature was perfect, like the very beginning of spring but without the nuisance of allergies; the sky was a brilliant blue, with only a few fluffy clouds drifting along. Holly could do nothing but stare around her in awe, convinced that what she was seeing was nothing more than a small glimpse of paradise.
If this was paradise, if this was a safe place, then she never wanted to leave.
Mister Whatsit’s hand completely enveloped hers. When she had imagined this moment, she had always thought it would be a much warmer, gentler presence, but the truth was that his hand felt cold against her skin and strangely rough.
Almost as if Mister Whatsit sensed her unease, he leaned closer and whispered softly.
“You don’t need to worry, my dear.” Henry’s voice was deep and hypnotic, like a lullaby. Holly let it wrap around her like a blanket.
“My family… They’ll come soon, won’t they?”
Mister Whatsit let out a small chuckle, as though he were delighted by the question. Holly couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.
“Of course, little one.” With a playful gesture, he pinched Holly’s nose, and she finally couldn’t resist breaking into a fit of delighted giggles. He stepped away from her for a moment to open the door of the large house and went on speaking. “First your friends will come, and then the others will follow.”
Holly made her way inside and stood there, utterly awestruck.
“After all,” he added, “there’s room here for everyone.”
The house seemed a few years older, more refined. She couldn’t tell whether it was because the entire place felt like a dream or because she was simply enchanted by its beauty, but every color appeared richer and lovelier than in the outside world. The furniture was elegant, and the walls were adorned with exquisite paintings.
“You must be hungry, mustn’t you? Come along, let’s go to the dining room.”
Mister Whatsit led her into a spacious dining room.
Wow. Even something as trivial as a tablecloth and a dining table looked marvelous in this place.
“Go on, take a seat. Don’t be shy.”
Holly settled herself at the end of the table as Mister Whatsit pulled out her chair. The table was laden with delights she rarely saw at home: fluffy pancakes, blueberry tarts, and plates piled high with exquisite fruit.
Even though everything looked delicious, Holly couldn’t quite bring herself to focus on the food in front of her. Part of her felt guilty for enjoying a meal while the image of her bloodied mother was still so fresh in her mind, while another part of her felt ungrateful. It was clear that Mister Whatsit had prepared all of this especially for her arrival. And yet, she couldn’t find it within herself to summon her appetite.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mister Whatsit asked, his tone tinged with concern as he noticed Holly’s lack of enthusiasm.
“Huh? Oh, no, it’s nothing… I was just thinking,” Holly said, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her. Her discomfort was far too obvious, so, to mask it, she fixed her gaze on her pancakes and took a determined bite.
“Thinking about your parents, I’d imagine.”
Holly hurried to finish chewing before answering.
“Yeah. I know you said they’d be fine, but still…”
“Still, you’d rather be with them. I understand.”
She shifted in her seat for a few seconds and lowered her gaze, guilt settling in her chest.
“They’re in the best hands possible, Holly. I assure you.” Holly looked up, meeting Mister Whatsit’s eyes. He offered her a warm smile before continuing. “And I’ve been told they’re getting better with every passing hour. As soon as they’ve healed, they’ll come here.”
“Oh. Yeah, I get it. It’s just… I don’t know. I just feel like I should be doing something, anything, to help.”
“Hey, you’re already doing plenty, little one. The greatest comfort you can give them is being here, safe and far away from Hawkins. With us.”
Holly nodded, turning his words over in her mind, before suddenly freezing.
“Us?”
The warm smile on his face didn’t falter; however, it lingered a second too long, stretching the silence until it became uncomfortable.
“I suppose there’s no point in hiding it any longer,” he went on casually, as if nothing were amiss. The expression on his face now felt slightly artificial, just enough to unsettle Holly. “Come along. Follow me. There’s someone I need you to meet.”
Henry rose from his chair so abruptly that the legs scraped against the floor with a harsh screech; with the same speed, he strode out of the dining room. Realizing he wasn’t going to wait for her this time, Holly stood up and hurried after him. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked down a hallway also decorated with paintings, though these were more sparsely placed and didn’t crowd the walls the way they did downstairs. At the end of the corridor stood another flight of stairs. When they reached what must have been the third floor, it was blocked by a door secured with a padlock.
Henry reached inside his shirt and pulled out what appeared to be a small key hanging from a chain around his neck. With a soft click, he freed it from the chain, slipped it into the lock, and removed the padlock. Before opening the door, he returned the key to the chain and tucked it back beneath his clothes.
At last, Henry opened the door slowly and with great care. He motioned for Holly to go first, and she stepped through.
She was left utterly absorbed, admiring the beautiful room that surrounded her. Unlike the lower floors, which had high ceilings, this one was lower, making the windows, which covered much of the walls, seem even larger, allowing sunlight to spill across everything in its path. The sections of wall without windows were covered in beautifully painted landscapes: valleys and sunrises, lush forests and rivers. Holly could even recognize places that resembled Hawkins, though they were slightly different, with streets with signs and shops unlike any she knew.
She heard the bolt slide shut behind her and turned quickly. Mister Whatsit was watching her with a small smile, and that was when she noticed the padlock still in his hand. For some reason, the sight made the tension she hadn’t realized had built up in her shoulders suddenly melt away.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? He has a talent for capturing beauty.” Henry’s gaze drifted to where Holly had been looking before, to the painted landscape of Hawkins; his eyes hardened slightly, the warmth that had seemed so innate to him slipping away. “Even in things that don’t deserve it.”
Mister Whatsit moved silently down the hallway, and she followed. They stopped in front of a yellow door. From inside the room, a song could be heard.
…gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
Knock. Knock.
Knock.
The music doesn’t stop, but its volume is turned down considerably. From inside, a soft, delicate voice can be heard.
“Come in.”
The moment Mister Whatsit opened the door, a sharp scent of paint hit her all at once. The room itself wasn’t exactly small, Holly noticed; it was simply crammed with canvases and paintings in every direction. A sheet had been spread across the floor in a poor attempt to keep it from getting stained, despite the fact that there wasn’t a single corner of the room left untouched by paint. Perhaps that was why, when she saw the man standing in the middle of it all, wearing an oversized white shirt that slipped loosely off his shoulders, loose trousers, and a lazy, friendly expression, he felt a little out of place.
“Oh,” the man said as soon as he noticed Holly. He rose from the small stool he had been sitting on, draping a cloth over the painting he’d been working on. At that moment, through the main window, Holly saw the sun align perfectly with his head, the light forming what looked almost like a halo around him.
He looks like an angel, she thought.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” The man stepped closer to Holly and crouched slightly, bringing himself down to her eye level. His expression remained just as lazy and friendly as it had been when the door first opened.
“Oh,” she murmured, unsure of what exactly to do. She glanced at Mister Whatsit for guidance; he only nodded at her encouragingly. She turned back to face the man once more. “Um, no. I just arrived. My name is Holly Wheeler, sir.”
“Wheeler… Yes, I know that name.” The man seemed to nod to himself, then stood up and turned away, heading back toward the same stool as before.
Holly watched him, confused, then looked to Mister Whatsit again as the man returned his attention to the painting.
“Did I… do something wrong?”
At last, Mister Whatsit lowered his gaze to meet Holly’s.
“Oh, no, my dear Holly, don’t worry. Come, let me explain.” Mister Whatsit placed a hand at her back and guided her out of the room, closing the yellow door behind them.
“The one you saw in there is my dear friend, Will.” As they walked down the hallway, the music from before began to drift through the air once more.
…ell I've heard the word before.
It's sleeping in my memory…
“You see, Holly, many years ago, when I was nothing more than a naïve boy, I thought I could fight the monsters and still remain in Hawkins.”
Henry led her to the stairwell door, and as they stepped through it, he replaced the padlock in its place, continuing his story.
“Like you, my family was somewhat absent, and at the time I didn’t have many friends. But the few I did have, I cherished deeply, and they cared for me in return.”
Henry fell silent for a moment.
“And what happened?” she asked, curious.
“The monsters held me captive for a while, Holly. I was imprisoned for years and years. I thought I would never escape. Until one day, I fought one of the monsters and managed to flee to this place; that was when I decided to make it the refuge it is today.”
Henry paused again, his voice trembling slightly. This time, Holly said nothing. He went on.
“When everything was finally ready, I decided to return to Hawkins to find my dear friends. Most of them were gone, except for my beloved Will. He kept looking for me, even though there was no proof I was still alive. But when I found him...” Henry glanced toward the staircase, his eyes glassy. “The monsters had done something to him. They tampered with his memories and turned him against me. So I brought him here so he could recover. As you can see, he’s much better now, but even so, he must stay here for his own safety, at least until he’s himself again.”
Holly felt her heart break as she listened to his story. She opened her mouth to say something, but what was one supposed to say in the face of something like that? A few seconds passed in silence. Part of her was grateful for it; it gave her space to think. At last, she decided to speak.
“So… Mister Will is safe here, right?” she said hesitantly. “You’re taking care of him.”
In a way, it was fascinating how saying those words made Henry’s colder, more melancholic expression melt back into his warm smile. A gentle look settled easily over his features.
“Exactly.” Just as Mister Will had done on the third floor, Mister Whatsit crouched down until he was at eye level with her. “After all, he has us to look after him. I can count on you, can’t I?”
Holly mirrored his cheerful expression with enthusiasm, ignoring the heaviness that settled in her chest whenever she thought too long about the padlock, the yellow door, and the way Mister Will’s eyes had seemed empty and devoid of life.
Everything will be fine, she told herself.
It wasn’t as though she had any other choice.
As Holly admired how well the red explorer’s cloak suited her, she heard the doorbell ring outside. She reacted at once, a note of caution setting in; she knew no one but Henry should be there, and that if he were, he would come straight through the door.
When whatever had been outside finally went away, she didn’t hesitate to investigate. There was nothing and no one outside; it was only when she took a second look that she noticed the mailbox had been used, and that was when she ventured farther and farther away from the safety of the manor.
Inside the mailbox, she found a note and a small, round metal tin. Just as she was about to read what the note said, she heard a voice from the doorway.
“Wheeler! Did the mail arrive? Is it from Henry?”
There, on the steps, stood Will, wearing the same relaxed, friendly expression he’d had during their previous encounter.
“Oh! Mr. Will! Are you supposed to be outside?”
Holly hurried toward him. Will merely watched her approach with a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, I don’t think so… But I didn’t leave, did I? I haven’t stepped off the porch, so I’m still inside the house, right?”
He looked at her with a more mischievous, conspiratorial smile, and she couldn’t help but return it.
“But you didn’t answer my question,” he added. “Did a letter arrive?”
“Oh! Yes, this just came in the mail.”
Eager to stay on Mister Will’s good side, Holly quickly handed him the note and the object without giving them so much as a second glance. Will took them in his hands and unfolded the paper. As his eyes scanned the words, his relaxed expression didn’t change in the slightest, so Holly assumed she’d done the right thing by giving him the mail.
“Mmm, yes. This letter is for me.”
He folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, along with the small object.
“Henry’s letting us know that later on he’ll be arriving with a little friend,” Will said. “What do you say you and I play in the meantime? We should take advantage of the house being practically empty; I have a feeling it’ll be very full soon.”
Holly couldn’t help the rush of euphoria and warmth that flooded her. It had been so long since anyone had offered to play with her. If Mr. Will was like this all the time, it was no surprise he was Henry’s treasured friend. Besides, didn’t he seem much more lucid than he had that morning? Maybe Holly’s presence could help with his recovery somehow.
“Yes! This place is full of drawers with clothes, Mr. Will. We could put on a fashion show when Henry gets here!”
“Of course. Why don’t you go on ahead and look for something to model? I’ll be right behind you.”
Holly nodded eagerly and turned on her heel, racing up the stairs, utterly thrilled.
Perhaps in her excitement, or in her determination to believe that everything happening was fine and normal, she failed to notice Will pulling the note from his pocket and tearing it into small pieces before slipping them back inside. His gaze drifted toward the forest, where he locked eyes with a red-haired girl watching him, her expression caught somewhere between anguish, fear, and rage.
Will stared back at her. His relaxed demeanor gave way to a cold, steely seriousness, one that seemed not to suit him at all and yet fit him perfectly.
He held her gaze as he closed the door. When the bolt slid into place, they both vanished from each other's sight.