Long, long ago in a land polluted by carelessness and terrifying memories, not noted as nightmares, but simply as lessions in survival, there lived a boy named Charlie. He wasn't one to complain about his life, not because he was satisfied by it, but because he knew nothing other than what he had. His older sister was always miserable, and he didn't understand why. His grandfather would tell him "son, we used to live in a beautiful place where the grass was green, the sun was bright, and the smell of the air beckoned us to freedom". Charlie was too young to fully understand the meaning of those words, but he loved to hear stories. To him, his grandfather's stories of a promise land was nothing more than a mere fairy tale, but nothing less than an inspiration. Charlie doesn't know that before he was born, his family lived in a nice country-side home on the outskirts of rural England. Everything was beautiful there, but then Charlie's father died, and they couldn't afford to keep the house. They were forced to move to Germany with their grandfather. Charlie's mom, oblivious to the fact that her children were nothing short of miserable, carried on okay, with the faded hopes of beginning a new life. Charlie was always a happy little boy. He was thankful for what he got, and never seemed to complain about where they lived. Sometimes, the only thing that would ever depress Charlie was his sister and grandfather's misery. He wanted them to be happy. He didn't want to hear how much they hated it there. His grandfather always taught them to make the best of everything, and he didn't understand why he didn't try doing the same.

Charlie sat in the living room as his mom made dinner. The smell of the food tickled his nose, satisfying slight bits of his hunger and fading away. "Charlie! What do you want for your birthday?" His mother called from the kitchen. "We can't afford this! If Sarah didn't get anything, neither does Charlie!" Grandpa snapped back. "How about one of those Wonka bars? If you get the Golden Ticket, you get to visit Willy Wonka in the Chocolate factory" his mom pleaded, hoping grandpa would at least agree to that. The thought of going to a Chocolate factory was enough to excite Charlie for years. Though he was a boy with almost nothing, he carried his head high on his shoulders, and let nothing get in the way of this big dreams. "I don't need anything, but I would love a Wonka Bar" Charlie said with a smile and a hopeful gleam in his eyes. His mother began scooping the mashed potatoes on the plates. "Okay, time for dinner!" She called. Charlie was very thankful for a hot meal. As he said Grace, he indulged in the steam that was rubbing against his eager lips. "Amen" they said at once, and began to eat.