It Must Be Believed To Be Seen

The Garbage Chute

Em blinked into the darkness.

She'd been waiting quite some time for the fire to start, and she was beginning to think that perhaps she hadn't just careered headfirst into the factory's furnace.

But if I'm not in the furnace, then where am I?

She searched around blindly, her eyes still acclimatising to the blackness engulfing her. Her heart was starting to calm to a steadier rhythm and her stomach was finally beginning to settle after her terrifying descent.

How could Mr. Salt have done that? After she'd helped him save his daughter? And what would Charlie think? He must be worried sick, she thought, dolefully. His tour of the factory was ruined all because of her, because she hadn't listened to Mr. Wonka. If she'd just stayed put it would be Veruca and her father down here right now, instead of Em.

Wherever here is, she mused, sourly.

She reached a tentative hand out slowly, moving it guardedly through the air, afraid of what she might find. She was met with no resistance, her hand simply disappearing into the never-ending expanse. She clutched it back to her chest fearfully, her heartbeat quickening once again. How was she meant to find her way out if she couldn't see anything?

She blinked again, willing her eyes to adjust, to make out some shadow in the distance.

"Bucketa?"

She screeched as a voice sounded behind her, her body automatically scrambling forward, away from the offending sound. She felt herself slide downwards a few feet and grimaced as her hand landed in a cold pool of liquid. She scrunched up her nose and searched frantically for the source of the noise.

She heard a rustling to her left and struggled up onto her knees, her bare legs cold against the damp ground.

"Huh-hello?" she stuttered, taking a deep breath in, praying that whatever it was wouldn't reply.

"Bucketa?"

She whipped her head around to the left, suddenly aware that there was more than one voice. The first voice had sounded childlike – harmless even – but this one was much deeper, and sounded much bigger than the first.

"Wha-what do you want? Where am I?" she could feel herself beginning to panic. What was down here with her, lost and forgotten in the dark depths of the factory?

"Ma makap!" something called, close to her now, it's voice high and jarring. She could hear it moving as she shifted anxiously. She attempted to stand up, the ground beneath her uneven and spongy, her knees shaky.

"Makap, makap!" it called again, more urgently this time.

"Oom!" a voice answered in response. Em continued to search blindly, the voices sounding from all around her and echoing through the dark expanse.

She took a disoriented step forward and felt her foot slide out from underneath her, her body following as she skated further down whatever it was she was stood on. She came to an abrupt stop as she landed on something very hard, her legs sprawling out in front of her, a loud thump reverberating around the room.

"Haha!"

She held back yet another screech as a bright light appeared, shining painfully into her sensitive eyes. She shut them tightly, grimacing away from the blaze, praying that it wasn't a flame about to engulf her.

"Bucketa."

She sensed the light lowering and edged her eyes open, wary of what she might find.

She was greeted by a shock of bright orange hair, spiked up in various directions and distinctly untameable. The owner of the hair was looking at her patiently, his small features stretched eerily across his face from the light of the little torch he was holding, his pint-sized hand outstretched.