Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it. I wish I owned the Chocolate Room though, because I love chocolate.
A/N: I meant to have this as only one part and I really didn't want to split it because the chapter titles have significance (you'll all know by the end of the story), but it was really long. So y'all are lucky and are getting two parts tonight. I won't be able to update for a little while after this because I have a Biology 2 lab practical and a test in the lecture course for it and I need to study. I also need to do better in Chemistry (of course I just had to get a teacher who hasn't taught any level lower than grad students before to teach a Chemistry 1 class). Anyways, enjoy and take care! This is dedicated to my only reviewer, Soul of Doom (love the name btw). This also counts as the author's note for the next part, same for the disclaimer because I don't want to write it again. Forgive me for any mispellings, I didn't have time to read it over because I have hw I haven't done.
Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky
By Aina Riddle
Chapter three: Cotton Candy Sky (part 1)
"Chocolat, are you ready?" I glance up from slipping on my black dress shoes, a purple bow on the top of each. The bows match the strip of purple on my black dress that runs just below the bust line and ties in the back. The dress itself reaches my knees and is a little low cut on the neckline with short, black sleeves and is made of some sort of soft material. Carol had bought it for me as an early birthday gift and I can't thank her enough for it, even though I know she had only gotten purple because that's a color associated with Willy Wonka.
"Yeah, but can you come and tie my dress for me?" I ask and hope she doesn't wonder why I just tie it myself. It would hurt too much because my side is really hurting today after yesterday's excitement and so I don't need to stretch it unnecessarily. My mom moves up the ladder and I hear my dad whistle playfully since she's wearing a dress as well.
Her dress is a dark black and has a small flowery design sewn into it with white thread. She had gotten the dress as a Christmas present from me a few years back when I had gotten a holiday bonus, but she had sewn on the design just last night. Her curly hair is styled and she holds our two jackets in her hands. "You look wonderful mom," I say, giving her a light hug. "You should design for a job, I'm sure people would love it. Just have them bring the dress they want changed and voila, you change it and get paid."
"Oh shush, we need to hurry or we'll be late." I automatically turn around at that and let her tie my dress, letting out a gasp as she pulls it tight. "Something wrong?"
"The other day at work I was pushed aside by some customers and I hit my side against the corner of the counter," I pause, my gaze on the floor as I try to avoid her concerned stare. "It's been bruised since and has been hurting, especially now after my run yesterday. I have it bandaged though with supplies from the store since it happened there, so if I do happen to have any cracked ribs they should be fine…"
"You should have told us, we would have found the money to take you to the doctor's." I shake my head at that before looking at her as she finishes tying the bow, not as tight as earlier.
"They would have just had us put bandages on it to brace it and that's what I'm doing, so there's no point." I watch as she glances at the factory hesitantly and I speak up again before she can say anything. "I'm going; I'm not giving up on meeting Willy Wonka."
"Of course, darling." She pauses before reaching over and pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Now, let's go meet this crush of your's." I roll my eyes at that and we begin walking with my dad and Grandpa Joe after waving goodbye to the others. The familiar sight of the factory rises before us as we get closer and I eye the crowd in front of it warily, clutching the Golden Ticket in my hands with an iron grip. I don't really trust people with how they acted just buying the Wonka bars, let alone how they'll act to get a chance at snatching a Golden Ticket directly.
"Excuse me; can we get through, please?" I ask, tapping on the shoulder of a reporter. They turn to look and I blink at the flashing of lights before giving up on them moving and pushing my way through instead. I don't like being forceful when I don't have to, but they wouldn't leave us alone and I could tell my mom was getting nervous. I was too, but I'm just better at hiding it. The other Golden Ticket holders stand separate from the crowd, more in front of the group and directly in front of the gates, and we join them, standing on the right end, after my mom kisses my dad goodbye.
"Make time go faster!" I hear an arrogant sounding voice demand and I look over to see Veruca Salt and her father. Mike Teavee is standing bored with his father while Mrs. Beauregarde encourages a gum-chewing Violet and Augustus eats some chocolate. I let my eyes wander up the towers of the factory as the clock strikes ten and a voice that could only belong to Mr. Wonka (as far as I know he's the only one in there) comes from the speakers as the gates open.
"Please enter." We all walk forward and pause just inside, unsure what to do before the voice comes again. "Come forward." We proceed forward quietly and I feel my mom's hand slip into mine to calm our nerves and to stop me from pulling on my hair like I usually do I'm when nervous. "Close the gates." The gates behind us close slowly before shutting with a click of finality. I'm finally past those gates that have kept me away for so long and now I'm going to meet Willy Wonka. My heart pounds in my chest as I listen to the voice once again.
"Dear Visitors, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to my humble factory. And who am I? Well…" The wall before us slides apart to reveal a large red curtain, Willy Wonka's initials in gold upon it, which parts to reveal a colorful stage with candy designs mixed in. Some joyful sounding music begins playing as voices laugh in time with the beat. The stage comes to life as mechanical puppet children begin to sing and dance.
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka
The amazing chocolatier!
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka
Everybody give a cheer!
He's modest, clever, and so smart
He barely can restrain it
There's so much generosity
There is nowhere to contain it…to contain it
To contain, to contain, to contaaaaaaaaaaaain!
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka
He's the one that you're about to meet!
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka
He's the genius who just can't be beat
A magician and a chocolate whiz
The best darn guy who ever lived
Willy Wonka, here he iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!
A red velvet throne emerges from the floor at that line and I look at it with confusion when I see no one is in the chair. When the fireworks go off and everything catches fire and begins to melt I let out a sigh of relief, happy that he wasn't actually in the chair. The sound of the music distorting is eerie as the puppets slowly melt.
"Ha ha, wasn't that just magnificent?" I hear a voice ask from beside me and I jump, turning to see who it is. A tall man wearing large, dark spectacles (with purple framing) with extremely pale skin and has a bob haircut with silky-looking, chocolate brown hair stands beside me, a childlike grin on his rather handsome face. I just know this is Willy Wonka from his purple latex gloves and dark violet (almost black) top hat and coat, and because he smells like a mixture of scents; a rather strange mixture of chocolate, peanuts, and a faint scent of vanilla. "I was worried it was getting a little dodgy in the middle part, but then that finale…wow!" He lets out another of his strange, yet endearing laughs, waving his candy filled cane around as he speaks.
"Who are you?" Violet asks in a condescending tone, as if he's lesser than her, while she chews her gum the whole time.
"He's Willy Wonka," I breathe out as Mr. Wonka puts on a nervous smile before hurrying up onto the small stage, the fire having burnt itself out for the most part.
"Good morning Starshine, the Earth says hello!" I smile at that, but the ensuing silence becomes awkward quickly as the other winners stare at him incredulously. That's just the kind of greeting I expected from him though, a creative and strange one. The hammering of my heart is still a loud, erratic tattoo in my ears and I can barely hear the shuffling of the white index cards he pulls out from his inside coat pocket.
"Dear Guests, greetings!" He says, giving us all a warm, yet slightly nervous smile. "Welcome to the factory! I shake you warmly by the hand." He holds out his hand, not even caring he just said the action aloud as well. He clenches and unclenches his held out hand nervously, the latex rubbing together and emitting a squeaky noise, but I can only give him a small wave, nervous about asserting myself in front of this group. "My name is Willy Wonka," He continues after withdrawing his hand, but he's cut off as Veruca speaks up.
"Then shouldn't you be up there?" I look at the partially melted chair she must be referring to and Mr. Wonka gives her gives her a smile that any adult would give to a rather slow child.
"Well, I couldn't very well watch the show from up there, now could I, little girl?" He asks as if it's obvious, and it is.
"To be honest, I'm glad he wasn't in the chair, especially when it caught fire," I say quietly, but no one other than my mom notices my comment.
"Mr. Wonka, my father wanted me to say hello, he wasn't feeling well enough to come with my daughter," My mom's words grab Mr. Wonka's attention and I supply an answer to his confused look.
"He used to work for you." Mr. Wonka's face becomes serious as he speaks.
"Was he one of those despicable spies who everyday tried to steal my life's work and sell it to those parasitic, copycat, candy-making cads?" I shake my head no, taken aback by his comment. He was probably really hurt by those people though, after al he had even shut down the factory because of them. "Then wonderful! Tell him I said hello! Let's get going, kids."
We all follow him through the slightly burning stage, but I feel strange at the fact that he called me a kid. I suppose that since this is a contest for kids and I'm only just eligible because I'm still in my teens that it's only right to categorize me as a child. I quietly pull my mom along, dodging a flaming puppet eyeball that rolls in front of us as I sink into my thoughts. I don't know why it bothers me that he calls me a child, because he's about twenty years older than me and that could make me a child in his eyes, but I guess I want him to see me as an adult. As someone he can trust and rely on, but I refuse to focus on the reasoning for that as Augustus speaks up, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Don't you want to know our names?" He asks as he slowly moves up the steps of the stage, the wall closing and shutting the outside world behind us.
"Can't imagine how it would matter. Come quickly, far too much to see." I frown at that, but quicken my pace nonetheless. That was rude, but exchanging personal information means trusting and trusting isn't something he must be willing to do. Plus, he probably just sees all of us as nuisances.
We emerge into a hallway, all a gray color with bright red accents here and there and further down the hall is a door. Beams of light come from the windows far above, mirrors used to reflect them to each desk lining the hall and form light circles above them. The heat of the hall hits me instantly and I pull off my coat to enjoy the warmth without getting too hot. It's nice to actually be able to take off my coat without getting cold.
"Just drop your coats anywhere," Mr. Wonka says, pulling off his coat and tossing it to the ground, revealing a maroon velvet blazer over a black suit. For the first time I notice a pin of an elaborate W attached to the collar of his shirt, and I'm surprised by how much I like it. I've never wanted for elaborate or pretty things, but that's something that belongs to Mr. Wonka and is so uniquely him that I actually like it. I also take note that the maroon strip on his top hat matches the coat, which is something I had wondered about earlier. Mr. Wonka also tosses his glasses on top of his coat as I toss mine on the ground on top of my mom's.
"Don't tell your father, but for his age, Mr. Wonka looks very fit," My mom whispers in my ear and I blush before smacking her on the arm playfully. She grins, back to her playful self now before continuing. "I'm just saying that he might not be too old for my darling Chocolat…"
"Mom," I whisper, glancing over to see Mr. Wonka not near enough to hear. "I told you I do not have a crush on him…. He is hot though…"
"Mr. Wonka?" Mr. Teavee inquires as he removes his coat. "Sure is toasty in here."
"What?" The chocolatier asks, turning towards us giving us view to his now fully visible face. To my shock I notice his eyes are a dark violet color, almost like a blueberry, and have a depth to them very unlike other eyes. It almost seems possible to drown in those violet pools, smothered by the emotions swirling in them, emotions I can't decipher without looking harder. "Oh yeah, I have to keep it warm in here. My workers are used to an extremely hot environment. They just can't stand the cold."
"Workers?" I ask, confused. Maybe he had gone to search for replacement workers when the factory was shutdown? I push a strand of hair behind my ear shyly as Mr. Wonka's gaze turns to me.
"All in good time. Now…" He turns and begins walking again before he stops in his track as Violet hugs him from the side. I'm behind him and so I notice by watching his back just how much he tenses at the contact, and I frown. I suppose after going so long without human contact he must not be used to it, but he had said he had workers and surely they must be human…
"Mr. Wonka, I'm Violet Beauregarde," Violet says, standing back in her baby blue sweat suit as she chews her gum with an annoying smacking sound.
"Oh, I don't care," Mr. Wonka says and I try to resist smiling, which my mom notices with a disapproving frown. I can't help it though, that girl shouldn't have hugged him so suddenly and make him tense like that, I just don't like seeing him uncomfortable. It's hard to be creative when you're uncomfortable, and that's the only reason... After all, it's his creativity that attracts me and causes my fascination.
"Well, you should care, because I'm the girl who's going to win the special prize at the end." I roll my eyes at her gloat as we continue walking and Mr. Wonka responds.
"Well, you do seem confident and confidence is key." Violet looks back at her mother with a happy grin, which her mother responds to with a pointed look that obviously says 'I told you so.'
"I'm Veruca Salt, I'm pleased to meet you sir," Veruca says after she pushes her way through to stand in front of Mr. Wonka, giving a curtsy as she speaks.
"I always thought a verruca was a type of wart you get on the bottom of your foot," He replies in childish excitement, letting out another of his giggles. Veruca loses her fake smile as Augustus steps forward, preventing the man from continuing forward.
"I'm Augustus Gloop, I love your chocolate," The boy says, taking a bite of the large Wonka bar in his hand.
"I can see that. So do I," He responds in a placating tone. "I never thought we'd have so much in common." He seems annoyed at the constant interruptions and instead he stops and turns to Mike. "You. You're Mike Teavee; you're the little devil who cracked the system." I step back as he looks at me and something flashes in his intense violet eyes before he speaks. "And you, well you're just lucky to be here, aren't you?"
"She does have a name you know," My mom interjects, slightly angry at the comment but since it's very true she can't say a thing about it. "It's Chocolat."
"I like that name!" He says to me with a grin, which I return, albeit slightly smaller. "And the rest of you must be their…" He seems to struggle with the last word and my mom raises her eyebrow while the other parents also find the behavior strange.
"Parents." Mr. Salt suggests and Mr. Wonka let's out a relieved sigh.
"Yeah, moms and dads." A frown forms on his lips as he becomes lost in thought, talking to himself. "Dad…Papa?" I bite my lip in worry as he zones out, seemingly in a bad memory. I take a hesitant step forward, but he comes out of his trance before I can do anything. "He he, let's get a move on, shall we?" He suggests nervously before turning and walking down the hall in a calm pace, his cane sounding through the air with a thud at every step.
"You want some chocolate?" Augustus suggests, holding out his candy bar. I look at the partially eaten candy before shaking my head no. "I wasn't going to give you any anyways; you should've brought your own."
"Kids," I grumble under my breath as I watch Veruca and Violet agree to be "best friends" with fake smile as they interlock their arms. I like kids, I really do, but these ones are just annoying me with how rude they are. The hall begins growing smaller and I realize that the door had had an optical illusion to it. I find myself awfully close to Mr. Wonka in the small space, but instead of acknowledging my blush I let out a laugh at how he has to bend down so he doesn't hit his hat against the ceiling. I'm rather short, about 5' 4", so the height of the ceiling doesn't bother me at all.
"This is a very important room," Mr. Wonka explains in an excited tone. "This is a chocolate factory after all."
"Then why is the door so small?" Mike asks, speaking to Mr. Wonka like he's an idiot.
"That's to keep all the great big chocolaty flavor inside." He responds with another of his laughs before pulling a ring of keys from his pocket and slipping a key into the keyhole designed like the factory doors and turning it. I feel excitement well up in me as a loud click sounds and the chocolatier gives us a 'just wait and see' look as he pushes open the wall, revealing that to be the entire door.