Wonka’s Winterland

Frosted over, the handle consumes you with a numbing touch. The opening door nudges against a bank of what looks like snow but has an mouth-watering aroma of creamy goodness. Instantly, a raging gust of sweet spices and refined sugar smack you in the face. Stepping into the majestic room you glance up and see the expanse walls curve and bend into infinity. As you exhale, the raw air contrasts against your hot breath and quickly succumbs to the calm surroundings. Cold specks of white, fluffy, silkiness fall into your agape eyes and mouth. Melting like butter, the flakes are as sweet as honey. Underneath you, frozen fingers control the balls of your feet like a puppet

Wandering between plump mounds of crystallised desert, a sickly rich essence tickles your nose and desiccates your throat . Crunch. The sound of settled ‘snow’ underfoot, moments before trickling into your unwelcoming toes. Ahead, an elegant passage over a roaring body of mother earth’s greatest gift stands tall. Lashing at the ceiling of chocolate encrusted biscuits, the dark, cooled, cocoa strides fiercely. Racing, your eyes follow as it soars without hesitation to a cruel plunge as high as the clouds.

Beckoned, you tread lightly on carefully placed wafers, consistently doubling in size each step you take. Peering over, a giant, crumbling chocolate leans and the faint sound of rustling trees hangs in your ear . Wispy straps of green, sugar dusted, confectionary curl themselves around in a stubborn grip, draping off gracefully. Crackkkkkkk. A shard of mint infused cane plunges off the snapped branch and into the river. Eyes deceiving, you almost catch the cane as it drops in slow-motion.

You are called from an in ground pit of boiling sauce. Sweet rocks surround the thermal pool , stacked knee high to save you from a sizzling deep fry. Spitting and gurgling in an arrogant manner, the gooey caramel growls loudly. Nestling the base like a blanket is a light and crisped-brown layer, creeping out of rounded edges towards you. Partially dotting the top, is a gelatin like substance, infusing your nose with stringy strands of stewed apple. Radiating warmth strokes your pink cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. You salivate uncontrollably as another seductive scent of cinnamon sweetness sails through your body, taking control of your beating pulse.

Startled, as you stumble into a wall behind you. Sinking into a whipped, wispy pillow, you body makes no attempt of escape. As you wander around, your hand stays glued to the mallow. The mallow is pancake soft, white as flour and leaves tiny scatters of pale, pink, powder on your palm. An opening appears out of nowhere and what’s situated inside bubbles with magnificence.  In the heart of this lovely bubble, a fountain bursting high with hot liquid catches your eye. Fresh citrus lingers in the air. The fountain, a brilliant orange with a perplexing opaque wall yet somehow as clear as a glass of water. Crackling and bubbling on display this buoyant, mesmerises you as it shoots, crumples and floats in spirals around you.

 

Zoe Smith

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