(Matilda's POV):
Tears streaming from my eyes, I dare not look back. Instead I look for the puffing, steam stacks of the Wonka Factory. The strong smell of chocolate leads me in the right direction. I slide down on the curb, only to feel a scraping sensation on my knee.
I look down at it to find that it's bleeding. It stings tremendously, but not as much of the sting my mom stored inside of me for about eleven years. I push myself up to the side and cry quietly.
"What am I to do now? I can't possibly go back home. Not after what I've been through."
I start considering possible places for me to stay. Charlie's family? No, that'd be a bit awkward for me for some reason. James's family? No, I can't stand that dodo 24/7. I slowly but surely rule out the potential families I could stay with.
"I could probably just live in the streets. Unless-."
I look at the steam stacks behind me.
"No," I sniff shaking my head and turning back towards the curb.
"He wouldn't take me in. Though that'd be like a dream."
My senses feel as though the chocolate smell is becoming stronger. I try to shake it off and open my notebook. I take out my pen and begin to write down ideas, saying them as I go.
"Cotton Candy Bears for Broken Hearts and the Betrayed. Cuddle Candy; Eat it and you feel as though you were being cuddled. Commitment Candy Rings; Put it on your special someone and they're bound to you forever-"
I stop myself at that last one and debate on whether to cross it out or not. Tears fall onto the pages.
"Here's an idea," I tell myself.
"Matilda's Miracle Mints; I eat one and I get a wish."
At this, I go into a sarcastically cheerful roleplay with myself.
"Here you are, Matilda. A Miracle Mint made to order. Oh, for me? You shouldn't have."
I pop the invisible candy into my mouth.
"Mmmmm. Delicious! So minty fresh. And now you get a wish. A wish? Why, I don't know what to say. You could get revenge or change your life completely or anything you wanted. Anything? Why of course. You invented it, after all."
I begin to ooze anger and vengeance into my voice.
"You know what I wish? I wish I never had to go back to my mother. I really wish I was Willy Wonka's daughter!"
At this I hear the sounds of rocks clanging against the ground. It must've been like that special thing I did at the party or something. My anger quickly dissolves into sadness and, in a moment of defeat, I put my head in my hands and cry. Maybe I could be an orphan. But then I'd live on scraps and pity gifts from rich people. I'd grow old and alone. More likely I'd die young and alone from hunger. It seems terrible, but better than my ordeal. In fact anything sounds better than being forced to change who you are, doesn't it?
"Excuse me, child? What are you doing out by yourself?"
In fright I look up to find a man in a plum-colored suit and hat with a cane. The smell of chocolate is penetrating my nostrils more than ever.
"Oh, I was just...thinking," I say.
"Thinking aloud? How peculiar. I do that quite often myself. May I sit with you for a moment? But not in the street light. Perhaps a bit further back in the dark."
I hesitate for a moment. The man, sensing my fear, gives me a friendly smile.
"It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you or anything."
"Well, I guess it'd be alright if you sat with me."
"Excellent."
He plops himself down back by the factory gates. I study the man for a moment. I could've sworn I recognize him, but I can't quite put my finger on why.
"Come on. Come on," he beckons to me.
"Don't be shy. I won't bite."
After a moment, I pick up my stuff and sit next to him. We sit in silence for a few moments, but I don't really find the silence awkward. I find it...surprisingly comforting, especially considering I've never met this man before.
"Hey," I finally gather the courage to say.
"You know, I think I read somewhere that talking to yourself has been proven to make you smarter. Either that or it means you're smarter than the average person."
"Well, I suppose that's true. Especially because-and pardon me but I couldn't help but overhear-I heard some of your candy ideas. Do you have them written down anywhere by chance?"
I nod.
"May I see them please?" he asks politely.
This sets me into hesitation. I've never shown my notebook to a stranger before. But he didn't seem like he'd harm me at all.
"Well, I suppose so. But you can't show anyone else. You promise?"
"You have my Candyman Promise."
"Okay then."
I hand the man my notebook and he studies the cover for a while. Finally he opens up the notebook. I only hear him turn a page or two every so often. Once or twice, I look back over to see him studying a particular candy idea, often with an inquisitive and interested "Hmm."
After what seems like hours, he finally hands me the notebook back.
"Quite an impressive collection of ideas you have there, Miss-What did you say your name was?"
I'm about to say that I never told him my name until I remember that he did overhear me.
"Matilda. Matilda Prescott."
He gives a small gasp and then attempts to compose himself, though I'm not sure why.
"Prescott, did you say?"
I nod.
"Ah, yes, of course. Miss Matilda Prescott. Where on earth do you find these ideas?"
I shrug.
"I suppose they just come to me."
"Fascinating. How old are you?"
"Well, I just turned eleven and I've had that notebook for about five or six years."
"Astounding. Quite a bright mind you have, don't you? Some of these even I wouldn't have dreamt up."
Those last few words prompt a question in my head, but before I ask him, he clears his throat.
"Well, I'd best be heading inside. Do you have some place to be?"
I shake my head as the man stands back up.
"I'm having a bit of a fight with my mom. She wants to take me to a mental institution just because I love the science of candy-making."
"Sounds like more than a bit of a fight. Would you like to come inside with me and stay a while?"
"I don't know. I really shouldn't accept invitations from strangers."
"Well, if you've lived here in this town long enough, I'd doubt you should think of me as a stranger. Come inside. It's not a request now. I'd be just as bad if I let that woman institutionalize such a brilliant mind. Come. There's so much time and so little to do. Wait a moment. Strike that. Reverse it. There we go. Come along, Matilda."
As we walk, I don't really pay attention to where we're heading. When it seems like we're close, I decide to pop the question as he knocks on a metal door.
"What did you mean by Candyman's Promise? You're a candyman? And what did you mean if I've lived here long enough, I wouldn't think of you as a stranger?"
He turns to me.
"Well, let me give you a little hint."
As the door opens and we head in, the smell of chocolate is intoxicating.
"It's peculiar how we both think aloud. But especially how peculiar that you happened to be thinking right outside of my very own chocolate factory."