Henry Creel aka 001 - Hide & Seek

The Creel house was never truly quiet—but at night, it listened more closely.
You stood at the edge of the parlor, counting heads out of habit. Eleven children, all buzzing with energy, voices overlapping as they argued over rules that never stayed the same twice. Mr. Whatsit watched from the doorway. As always, he noticed her first.

“Right,” he said calmly, “would you like to explain the rules again?”

You straightened immediately. “Hide anywhere inside the house. No going outside. No moving once you’re hidden. And no pushing.” A few groans followed, but they listened. They always listened to you.
Mr. Whatsit nodded approvingly. “Very good.” You felt that familiar, uncomfortable warmth in your chest—not pride exactly, but awareness. You were older. Bigger. Expected to behave better.

Expected to be better.

Mr. Whatsit took his place at the bottom of the stairs, turning his back with deliberate care.
“I will count to twenty,” he said. “Slowly.”
The children scattered instantly.
You hesitate.
You could’ve hidden with the younger ones—under beds, in closets, behind curtains—but instead your eyes lifted toward the second floor.
Toward his room. Everyone knew the rule.
No one entered Mr. Whatsit’s bedroom.
No one except him.
You swallow, then moved anyway.
Your footsteps were careful as you slipped down the hall. His door was closed, as always. You rested your hand on the knob, listening.
“…fourteen… fifteen…”
You opened it and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind you. Everything had a place. The bed was perfectly made, corners sharp. Books lined the shelves in precise order. The air smelled faintly of paper and polish, not warmth. You stood very still.
You didn’t touch anything.
You tucked yourself beside the wardrobe, hands clasped in front of you, heart beating faster than you expected. You wasn’t breaking a rule—no one had told you, you couldn’t—but it felt like stepping into a space that watched your back.