WILLY NIMBLEWICK

The blue sky far above the blankets of thick toxic smoke soiling the air held back the snowflakes, which were significant to this point in time, from falling. But despite that, the cold of winter did not relent.

Although, that was not what was making Willy shiver at this moment. It was because he was now upon the infamous Cleavenger’s Dark and Milk chocolate factory; the factory of the man he wanted to overtake in the world of chocolate business. His quivers originated from the tingling sensation of excitement and anxiousness that was gripping his heart.

Willy bit down softly on his lower lip and kept tapping the heel of his right foot onto the dirty ground bestowed to the narrow alley he was peeking out from.

“Gosh! What’s Zeph still doing?” he grumbled as soon as he took a moment to check what the time was through the pocket watch fixed to his vest.

It was already forty-five minutes past noon, and from the look of the exterior of Cleavenger’s Dark and Milk chocolate factory, Willy guessed what his situation entailed.

The tall and imposing factory of red-bricks, which bore intricate carvings depicting cocoa pods and the likes, had its grand double doors of polished oak and gleaming brass handles shut, and before them stood two guards, each dressed in a gray frock coat and holding a metal truncheon. On their head sat a bowler hat emblazoned with the crest of a cocoa pod protruding from an ornate packing box.

They were personal guards of the factory, and they did their jobs by sending away every single peasant, unemployed working class man and woman, and previously fired workers from making it past their diligent stand.

And that was why Willy both knew that the investors were already inside the factory, and there was no way he would be able to get in through the front door. His only chance now was in the hopes that Zephyr could somehow find him a way in.

“Nimblewick…” Willy snapped back from his thoughts, instantly turning to his left shoulder to glimpse a little man garbed from head to ankle in green sitting cross legged with folded arms. “Enjoyed your swimming?”

Willy was dumbfounded at that question, and his face failed to hide it.

“What?”

“Your mind. Enjoyed your swimming in there? You know how long I’ve been here calling you?”

“Why didn't you just call louder?” Willy queried in a stern tone, though lowered so that the factory’s guards would not notice the presence of people in the alley they had cleared out, even though his little pixie friend’s dust had turned him invisible.

The dust had two other fascinating abilities besides its illusionary powers, which included invisibility and sleep induction, all three of them taking ten minutes to kick into action and an hour to wear off.

Luckily their home was also on this same street, Merchant Way, and that was why even though Willy had trekked he’d arrived before Baron Orsted’s factory by twelve, thirty minutes after making use of the dust.

But fifteen more minutes had passed since then, and the direness of the situation caused his stomach to quiver erratically that it almost felt like he wanted to use the toilet. He was restless.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked Zephyr to use the dust on him right before they’d left their apartment after all.

Zephyr floated up with a scoff, obviously not as worried as Willy, possibly due to his carefree nature. “You told me to whisper. I take my heeding of words seriously, you know?” A grin pushed up the corners of the little pixie’s lips.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“For a hundred year old being, you seem quite childish.” Willy squeezed his face in exasperation.

“Wow! Congratulations, you’ve finally figured it out. I’m a child, Nimblewick. Where I’m from, a hundred years is a child’s age. You humans just seem to have weak lifespans.”

Willy was in no mood to engage in such discussions at the moment; gathering investors came first. And with that he immediately changed the topic, bringing it back to the more important one.

“So? Did you find anything?” Zephyr was about to shake his head when Willy quickly added as he took notice of that, “Please, not now.”

The little pixie’s eyes widened in something akin to surprise, then he sighed. “Sorry. Habits.” He chuckled awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. I did find something. Follow me!”

And that Willy did without any other word, his ball-head cane in his left hand, and his Gladstone bag, bearing the twenty bars of chocolate he had prepared, in his other.

They both went halfway through the length of the alley flanked by Orsted’s two factories—the wall to the left of the chocolate factory, while the one to the right of the bread factory. It was not until the brick wall looming at the end of the alleyway came into view did Zephyr suddenly swirl about to face Willy and put a stop to his frantic rushing.

“This is it,” the little pixie said, then flew up to the awning window above which was slightly opened and pointed inside. “We go in through here. This is the tasting area for the investors, and it’s the only open window. I suspect it’s to give the investors fresh air unlike the workers.”

Willy looked backward, the height of his gaze altered in order to view the high windows of the factory, and he could see that what Zephyr had said was the truth. All the windows to the back of where he stood were shut tight; the ones beyond though, weren’t.

He did not understand why it was that way since he’d never owned or been in a factory before, and as such he took his gaze toward the wall of the bread factory to his right to confirm if it was the same way as well. And it was.

Why would they subject their workers to a lack of fresh air…? His eyebrows squeezed, but only for a moment as he came to a quick explanation. Wait… Is this to prevent anyone from sneaking in through the windows, for example peasants seeking work, or fired workers seeking revenge…? That made sense…

Willy felt his deduction was on point, but as sad as he felt for the workers he could do nothing to help their plight as he was. His father always told him that those making chocolate should be treated as delicately and exquisitely as the chocolates themselves. He was of the mind to do just that, but it was only possible once he had his own factory. And the first step was investors.

He snapped back to the matter at hand, turning his face just to shudder instantly as Zephyr came before his view in extreme closeness, hand on his waist and a pout on his face—a floating oddity.

“What is it?” Willy asked with an eyebrow down and the other up.

“You swim a lot, you know?” The airborne Zephyr shifted backward. “And too too much for this occasion, Nimblewick.”

Willy sighed at himself with a moment’s shut of his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He then looked back up at the open window high above. “So, how am I supposed to get in there?”

Zephyr turned his green eyes toward the window too for a moment, then took them back to Willy before slowly widening his lips gradually until a grin filled with something signaling the appearance of perversity.

The young man of twenty two years pursed his mouth and shook his head earnestly. “No mischiefs, please.”

“Oh! Not that. Not that.” Zephyr waved his hands about before spinning in the air in a playful manner like he was dancing with a beautiful princess at a ball. “I’m just going to show you something I haven’t before.”

Willy’s eyes instantly widened and his lips parted as he leaned forward, both his hands engaged in pressing down firmly on what they held. His excitement at those words were eminently evident on his face; it was almost to the point that anyone would think he’d given up on the investors and only wanted to find out about what his pixie friend had in store for him.

“What is it?” Willy asked, his words hurried and his tone tinged with anticipation.

Zephyr left his right hand on his waist and with a smile pulled down on the side brim of his pointed hat.

“The power of illusion!”