The Visitor

Charlie met her quite by accident, as he was roaming through the factory hallways. It was a bit of a shock to find an unfamiliar woman in the factory, when he had been quite certain that the only people he was likely to come across were Oompa Loompas, his family, or Mr. Wonka.

She was tiny, hardly taller than he was (and he was not yet very tall), with long, black hair, and she was dressed elegantly as he had seen few women do. Her dress was black, and she wore little pointed high-heeled shoes, and black gloves nearly to her elbows, and she had a little black hat atop her head. He was behind her when he saw her, for his hallway had only intersected hers, and she was walking away from him, but he must have made some sound of surprise because she turned around suddenly and looked at him. She was quite pretty, though there was something a little odd about her eyes that he couldn’t immediately pin down to anything in particular. She seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her. She hesitated a moment, apparently considering whether she should stop to speak to him, but then she glanced at a delicate, silver watch she took from her pocket, shook her head, and hurried on.

She looked as if she had some official business there, and her corridor did lead to where Mr. Wonka was likely to be this time of day, but one could never be sure, and it wouldn’t do to let strange people have the run of the factory. Charlie followed behind quietly and at a distance.

The woman stopped at the door that led to Mr. Wonka’s inventing room. Charlie ducked into a nearby hallway and peaked out. The woman seemed to be preparing herself to enter. It seemed rather silly, as she looked fine, but she scratched quickly at the back of her head, patted down her hair, and smoothed her dress before she knocked.

“Enter,” came Mr. Wonka’s voice from the other side.

Well, that was that, then. She obviously had business there, or if she didn’t, Mr. Wonka would soon sort it out. Charlie had no reason to stay… but now he was curious. What could she possibly be doing there? The door was still ajar. He crept up to have a look.

“Ah, it is vonderrrful to see you as well, Mrrrr. Vonka,” she was purring, in an odd accent Charlie didn’t recognize.

Mr. Wonka seemed not to know quite how to react to mysterious little women purring at him, but after taking a step back, he was as gentlemanly as ever. “Has a whole year gone by already, madam? They seem to fly so fast these days… ah well. What is your pleasure this year?”

“Merrrely a consultation, this time. You will be well compensated, of courrrse. I vas vonderrrink, vould therrre be a vay to cause a delay in an effect in an edible substance to a particular time? For prrranks, yes? I know you do such lovely things vith tricks and such, and yet I am finding that they all are happenink so fast, you know?”

“What sort of effect were you trying to obtain, madam?”

“Oh, neverrr you be mindink about that. I vould not be asking about your trrrade secrrrets, you underrrstand, so you must not be asking about mine, you know?”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. Let me see… You were looking for a particular time, were you not? Ah! What if you were to use alarm clocks? Put an alarm clock in your batch of candy, set for the right time, and there you go!”

“Vouldn’t an alarrrm clock be a bit… crrrunchy?”

“Oh no, not if you boil it properly!” Mr. Wonka was getting excited. “Yes, I think if you just boil them up properly, just until they’re tender, and no teeth will be broken at all!”

“Vonderrrful! Terrrific! You cleverrr man! Oh, you are brrrilliant, Mrrr. Vonka!” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and he turned scarlet. “Vell, I must be goink, Mrrr. Vonka. I vill see you again next year, yes? Good.”

Charlie scurried back just as she was opening the door and hid in a corridor nearby. She closed the heavy doors behind her carefully, and paused, with her head tilted back. She looked as if she were smelling something, but that hardly seemed likely. Unless it was just to savor the smell of chocolate, of course. Charlie had done that himself, many times. With her head tilted back, he could see that there was something odd about her nose: the nostrils were large, pink, a little crinkly at the edges… she turned to him, though he was almost sure he had made no sound this time, and smiled, showing all her teeth and her gums, above and below.

“Come out my dearrr. Don’t be frrrightened. You must be Charrrlie. I rrrecall rrreadink about you in the paperrr. So… kind… of Mrrr. Vonka to give his factorrry to a… child. Come herrre, boy. I have a prrresent forr you.”

Charlie had some inclination to simply run the other way, but the factory would be his in a few years, and he couldn’t very well run away from everyone that ever came into it. Cautiously, he approached.

“Therrre’s a good boy.” She reached into her purse. Charlie paused apprehensively. “I bet you haf many of these made out of chocolate… but haf you a rrreal one?” In her hand, Charlie saw a small, white rabbit. It had been a long time since he had seen any rabbits, and he had never had a pet before—his family had had hardly enough to fill the mouths it had, without adding another.

But he did not entirely trust this woman, though he did not know why. He looked carefully at her face as he took a step closer, looking for some warning or change that would justify his fleeing as fast as he could and not looking back until he was safe at the other end of the factory, where the warren of tunnels would hide him.

But there was no warning and no change. She just kept smiling with all of her white, faintly bluish teeth bared and her strange, strange eyes. He stared at them, and there must have been something odd about the light in the corridor, because he could almost see her pupils changing color as he looked at them, and in there very center of each pupil there was a strangely hypnotic alternation of ice and flame, and he felt his skin go cold and hot by turns as he stared at them, and stepped slowly nearer.

So rapt was he that he barely heard the door creak behind him, and the woman must have been so as well, because the force that took him by the shoulder and threw him backwards across the floor took them both by complete surprise. He saw the woman’s eyes widen and heard the air drawn in between her teeth before he found himself looking up from the floor at the back of a purple tail coat and Mr. Wonka standing between them. Charlie scooted back to the wall and stared.

“Get out!” screamed Mr. Wonka. He towered over the little woman though he was not tall himself, but she looked more annoyed than afraid.

“It vould be betterrr if you did not crrross me, Mr. Vonka.”

“I know what you are, now! Get out of my factory!”

She smiled very slightly. “Then you know also what yourrr help to me has been doink over these yearrrs, yes?”

Charlie saw the small part of Mr. Wonka’s face that was visible to him turn dead white. “Get out,” he whispered. His voice seemed to have left him. “Get out, and I swear that I will find a way to kill you if I ever see you again.”

The woman smiled and shook her head. “I am thinkink that you could not. But fearrr not, you vill not be seeink me again.” She patted down her hair again, turned, and walked away down the corridor.

Mr. Wonka did not move. Charlie got up slowly and went to stand next to him, a little bit behind. Mr. Wonka didn’t seem to notice him.

“Mr. Wonka?” In an instant, Mr. Wonka was on his knees in front of Charlie, gripping him by the shoulders.

“Are you alright, Charlie? Did you take anything from her? Did she give you anything?”

“No. But… Mr. Wonka, who was she?”

Mr. Wonka frowned. “Don’t they teach you children anything these days?

“Charlie… She was a witch.”

End.

A/N: I’m afraid that didn’t make any sense to you at all if you never read Dahl’s The Witches… I’m sorry if you got this far only to find that the denouement was meaningless. I don’t know how obvious or not her identity was if you have read it, but it was meant to be revealed slowly, so putting a “this is a crossover with The Witches” at the front of this really wouldn’t have worked very well. As to how innocent Mr. Wonka could possibly have thought she was with the weird requests he must have gotten from her over the years... who knows?