Rising Dawn (Willy Wonka X OC)

Chocolate

If you ask someone what Heaven looks like, they'll probably tell you it's bright and sunny and there are clouds and everything has gold or silver accents on solid white. They are quite mistaken. Colors swarm me, almost too many to take in at once. A bright pop of red overlaps a vibrant green that shades into bright blue with swirls of lemony yellow and soft purple. My eyes are drawn to a tree with a candy striped trunk and clumps of gumballs instead of leaves. Then I catch sight of a bridge with candy lining and transparent sugar glass flooring. Charlie tugs on my arm and points to a section of wall that is almost completely covered in what appears to be gummy vines. Large mushrooms with cream pockets line one walkway and little orbs of shell with goo inside line another. My eyes finally wander to the biggest and most noticeable piece in the room, the chocolate waterfall. Gallons and gallons flow out, splashing merrily onto the banks.

The splashing and bubbling sounds of the river reach me even though we stand a good ways away, on a hill. A calm rush of wind and the swish of liquid chocolate swirls around me. A song seems to be in the air, a song of joy and elation. There is no music, but it fills me. Entirely and wholly. Mr. Wonka is saying something about staying calm, but I can't concentrate on words when there's so much else to focus on. How could anyone not feel calm here?

I inhale sharply and it is then the smells hit me. All sorts of smells pervade the air, and I can't tell which one's strongest. The rich, creaminess of the chocolate is there, constantly churned through the air. I can tell what Mr. Wonka meant by keeping the chocolatiness inside. The aromatic scents of sugary fruit are also in the air. Sharp and tangy, some. Sweet and mellow, others. A vanilla and cinnamon breeze floats in front of me and I inhale deeply. I let a small smile creep onto my face as I close my eyes and take a few more deep breaths.

When I open my eyes, I see Mr. Wonka smiling softly, watching me. Pride shines through him and excitement shimmers in his eyes. We move farther into the room, and I am able to see more and more. A bush with little chocolates for flowers, a tree with red and white pods of jelly, a great many more trees made of spiralling, twisted candy that droop over with an odd curl to them. There are all sorts of candies on the ground, some look like fantastical coloured gourds, others look like little plants with leaves or buds.

Charlie voices all of our thoughts saying, "It's beautiful."

Mr. Wonka looks at Charlie as if just remembering he is there. "What? Oh, yes. It's very beautiful. Every drop of the river is hot melted chocolate of the finest quality. The waterfall is most important. It churns the chocolate, mixes it up." I nod, listening intently to his spiel. "By the way, no other chocolate factory in the world mixes its chocolate by waterfall, my dear children. You can take that to the bank!" I don't think anyone but him would even think of a method like that. A machine catches my attention, lowering itself from the ceiling and dropping a pipe toward the chocolate. Mr. Wonka claps his hands, explaining, "People, those pipes suck up the chocolate, and carry it all over the factory. Thousands of gallons an hour, yeah." He's trying to hard to contain his excitement. Trying and failing, it shines through brighter than the sun. Giddiness shows itself through a restless twitching in his hands and darting eyes, searching for the next thing to talk about. His attention shifts as he points to the grass. "Do you like my meadow? Please have a blade of grass, please do. It's so delectable and so darn good looking."

I finally look to the other guests to see how they're taking everything. Augustus and his mother are gaping, totally and completely overwhelmed. Veruca and her father are eyeing Mr. Wonka skeptically and glaring at everything else. Mike's eyes are glazed and he wears a bored expression of his face while his father seems genuinely interesting in the mechanical interworkings. Violet and her mother are surveying the landscape around us greedily. Charlie is struggling to take in everything and glances at me with an exuberant smile.