I was still looking at Wonka – did he really think I had signed the book or didn't he care? I thought about saying something, but before I knew it he had herded us down a long corridor off to the side of the lobby.
The corridor had many doors on one side – and a very, very small one at the very end, which was where we were heading.
"Mr. Wonka – where is your staff? Do you run this place all alone?" Veruca asked, which was a good question. So far, we hadn't come across a single factory worker. Everything was eerily quiet – the only sound that could be heard was this slight metallic whirring coming from the walls.
Without turning around, Wonka waved a finger in the air – as if directing an unseen orchestra as he sang a strange little tune.
"The greyhound chased them all away – now there is no one left to play."
"What?!" Veruca asked, almost offended by how outlandish his response had been. But Wonka did not answer her this time.
Finally we found ourselves standing in front of a very small, black door. It looked like it was made for a doll to fit through rather than human beings. Wonka startled whistling to himself, withdrawing a gold ring full of keys from his pocket. He singled out a tiny gold key and bent down, unlocking the tiny door.
He pushed it open and stood up to his full height, gesturing for us to enter. We all looked at him like he was mad.
"That's way too small to fit through!" Violet exclaimed, and Wonka did a double-take. Then he laughed, embarrassed. It all felt like it was very staged, like he had planned this beforehand.
"Oh, yes of course! Forgive me – I forgot that you weren't who you are. How silly of me."
He closed the tiny door with the heel of his shoe, then brought up a closed fist, knocked on the wall twice and then the whole wall began to slowly twist and turn – taking us along with it into the next room.
If I had expected anything out of this visit, it was most surely not anything like this.
Before us there was not any kind of normal room.
In fact, it did not even appear to be a room at all – but a massive, dense forest. There were no walls to it that I could see – the forest seemed to go on forever. When I looked up, there seemed to be no ceiling either – just a faded blue sky, high up above.
I looked behind us for the wall that had twisted around – but that too seemed to be completely gone.
In the distance, there was a deep rushing sound of water – a waterfall?
It was all so peaceful and beautiful, all of us just stood there for a moment and stared. Then Mr. Wonka stepped forward and gestured to our surroundings.
"This is the chocolate room. Everything you see here, you can eat. The flowers, the fruits in the trees – even the trees themselves. Everything is sweet and delicious." he explained.
"Even the grass, Mr. Wonka?" Augustus asked, his greedy eyes shining. Wonka clapped his hands with excitement at this.
"Of course! It tastes like apple or mint, if I recall correctly. Maybe both."
Veruca saw a squirrel – allegedly made of chocolate – scurry across the ground in front of her and for some reason, looked incredibly disturbed.
"I think you're lying – there's no way none of this is candy. " she said, her voice wavering but still haughty.
Mr. Wonkas violet eyes eyed her lazily, hands resting on his long cane.
"Well, why don't you try something and then say that again."
Veruca stared back at him for a moment and then, with a toss of her fair hair and a scoff, walked further into the forest.
We all watched her go and then Wonka looked at the rest of us with raised eyebrows, a pleasant smile now on his face.
"Well, why don't the rest of you follow her example – try something and tell me what you think of it."
Augustus practically took off running while Violet walked over to a nearby patch of flowers. Mike pulled out a switchblade and carved out a piece of a nearby tree, tasting it eagerly.
I watched them taste everything, but as for myself I was still not moving.
Of course Mr. Wonka noticed my reluctance – why couldn't he just be an ordinary factory owner and pay attention to the others? Instead his peculiar eyes seemed to grow brighter in color as he approached me, a serene quality now to his smile that hadn't been there before.
"What's the matter? Is this room not to your liking? "
"No – no. It's beautiful – everything, it's – I never imagined it to be so - "
"Does it frighten you?" he asked suddenly, making me stop.
You frighten me.
The thought came immediately – unbidden. Was it true? I wasn't sure. Wonka continued speaking without waiting for my answer. He sighed and it almost sounded like he was speaking to himself now.
"Or overwhelming, perhaps. Yes – I should have realized." he said, and he blinked, it looked like he was temporarily stepping out of a play he had the star role of, suddenly uncertain of his lines. He looked back at me, his eyes still bright.
" Close your eyes." he said, and I laughed, unsure.
"What?"
Without a word, he sat down on the grass and wordlessly asked me to do the same. After a moment I followed, smoothing the skirt of my ugly dress out over my legs as I did.
"Now close them. Tell me what this smells like – this room. What does it remind you of?"
It was an odd question, but I did as he asked.
Surprisingly, the scents that I picked up were not immediately sweet. I frowned as I began to pay attention.
"There's hay. Wood polish – bitter oranges. " I said, and beside me I heard Mr. Wonka hum thoughtfully.
"Now pick up some of the grass. Bring it up to your nose and smell it."
While it didn't make any sense, I felt oddly liberated now that my eyes were closed. It felt better when nobody could see me – or rather, I couldn't see them. I did as he asked and picked up a tuft of grass.
I smelled it and was actually a little disappointed.
"It smells like the real thing."
"Now taste it. Is it different?"
I took some of it into my mouth and chewed – not knowing what to expect. To my immense surprise, it tasted like buttered pancakes. Just like the ones my mother used to make. Back when we had been able to afford real food.
I quickly opened my eyes and look at Wonka with wonder.
"How is that possible?"
How did you know what my mother's pancakes tasted like?
Mr. Wonka sighed and laid back in the grass, resting his arms under his head. He closed his eyes and said in a sleepy, well-worn voice:
"Morning and evening Maids heard the goblins cry: Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy."
