Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or any of the characters associated with it.

Summary: What if Charlie had in actuality been a girl? A girl named Chocolat Bucket (courtesy of Mrs. Bucket's craving for chocolate during her pregnancy) who is 19 years old when the tickets are sent out.

A/N: For some reason I have recently started obsessing over this movie. Granted, it is a good movie and Johnny Depp is hot, but I've always liked the older version more… Oh well, I hope y'all enjoy and forgive me for any mess ups with the script since I've only really seen this movie twice and I can't find my copy to watch it again. I also know this idea is quite normal, but I'm stealing no ones work.

This one isn't very long, but the others should be longer.

Chocolat's name is pronounced with an 'sh' sound, If you've ever played Tales of Symphonia think of that tour guide's name.

Gumdrops Falling From a Cotton Candy Sky

By Aina Riddle

Chapter One: A Pedestal Built With Sugar Cubes

Slowly the customers trickle in once school is out and I reluctantly put away my writing notebook, having been writing in it since no one had seen fit to get candy before this and therefore the store has been empty. Giving the children a soft smile, I push my wavy, dark brown hair behind my ears and start to help them. I'll admit it, I have a soft spot for kids, but that's not my reason for working in a candy store. No, there are two reasons I work here; one is the fact that I apparently can't aim very well and therefore my employer for my newspaper route was desperate to get me away and so he suggested this store; and two is because it makes me feel at least a little closer to Willy Wonka.

I've been fascinated by Mr. Wonka ever since I first tasted his candy and heard Grandpa Joe's stories about him. My dream is to be a writer and a man with such creativity and who actually goes out there and finds the magic hidden in this dreary world is truly magnificent. Willy Wonka is my idol and has been for as long as I can remember, he's everything I can wish to be. So I work here, because maybe, just maybe, candy is what gave him his inspiration and maybe I can find inspiration too. I also might meet Mr. Wonka, but that's a really, really, really small chance and only if he actually checks on the local stores that sell his wares, which I'm pretty sure he doesn't. But like Grandma Georgina always says, nothing is impossible.

Soon enough the time for closing comes and I quickly gather up my notebook, my threadbare jacket, scarf, gloves, and hat (all black since that seems to be the cheapest fabric color) and head out the door after waving goodbye to my co-workers. The air outside is freezing and I quicken my pace, hoping that it would warm me up, but I notice no change as I pause outside of the factory gates. The gray towers of the factory are so high and seem so out of reach that a familiar sense of hopelessness envelops me. With a frown I rest my hand upon the gates, my dark blue eyes searching every shadow for even one sign of life, a sign that even my place of salvation doesn't sometimes drift back into the gray, gloomy world of reality. I find nothing and with a small sigh I reluctantly remove my hand and begin my trek towards home once again.

The snow crunches under my shoes as I walk towards the door before opening it and feeling no change in the temperature as I walk in. My mom stands before the stove while the scent of cabbage soup drifts to my nose and I give a small smile at the familiarity of the smell and the sense of home it gives me. "I don't suppose you have anything to add to it?" She asks my father, who shakes his head, but I speak up before she adds more cabbage.

"I brought some carrots that I managed to get from the store," I speak up, moving over to hug everyone. My grandparents are all huddled under the blankets of our one decent bed and I give them all hugs too, removing my scarf and hat, but keeping on the gloves and jacket like my mother always does. She still has on her jacket because despite being near the stove this house doesn't provide much heat with the holes in the roof, and we both have iron deficiencies and therefore get cold easily. "Stan said they were going to be getting rid of them because a customer dropped them, but I figured that with a good washing they should be fine, right?" She nods eagerly and I set to work after removing my gloves since I don't want to get them wet.

That night we all enjoy cabbage soup with a bit more flavor and the conversation soon turns to Mr. Wonka like always. "I don't suppose you could lose this silly crush with Willy Wonka and go out with Stan?" I roll me eyes at my dad's statement, sipping at the remaining soup in my bowl.

"I don't have a crush on Mr. Wonka, and Stan is engaged to Emily. Plus, I hardly even know Stan and I know a lot more about Wonka from Grandpa Joe's stories." I respond before finishing my soup and gathering the empty bowls from my grandparents and parents. "Do you think you could tell me a story tonight, Grandpa Joe? About Willy Wonka?"

"No, she doesn't have a crush, she has an obsession," Grandpa George mutters and I give him a half-hearted glare.

"Oh, shush, she's a grown girl and she can obsess or crush on whoever she wants." I give my mom a grateful smile, which she returns before turning towards the dishes in the sink. "Now darling, don't you have to open the store tomorrow? I think a story can wait until another night." I nod absently, but the protest is already leaving my lips.

"Just one story, please? I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be crazy and I need something to relax me beforehand." Grandma Georgina claps suddenly and I jump from where I'm leaning against the small landing holding the ladder to my room.

"Chocolat sells chocolate!" I nod with a small smile at her assessment and with her interruption my mom forgets her arguments and we all settle down for a story.

"Did I ever tell you about Prince Pondicherry and his chocolate palace?"

Attempting to hold in my yawn, I hold tight to my hat as I walk towards work before noticing a crowd gathered around a lamppost and looking at a sign. Looking around for a gap in the crowd, I notice more signs on the other posts and hurry over to one. Maybe some rich person lost their dog and is willing to pay a reward? Usually I help find lost pets even if there isn't a reward, but a large reward might be the cause for the crowd. The sign comes into view and I freeze in my tracks as I read the first few words.

Dear people of the world,

I, Willy Wonka, have decided to allow five children to visit my factory this year. In addition, one of these children shall receive a special prize beyond anything you could ever imagine. Five Golden tickets have been hidden underneath the ordinary wrapping paper of five ordinary Wonka bars. The five candy bars may be anywhere, in any shop, in any street, in any town, in any country in the world. So watch out for the Golden Tickets! The five lucky finders of these Golden Tickets will be the ones who will be allowed to visit my factory. Good luck to you all, and happy hunting!

Willy Wonka

I feel my mouth fall open and my gaze automatically drifts to the factory with smoke billowing from its towers. I can meet Willy Wonka if I just find a Golden Ticket and then I know for sure that I'll be able to write something amazing, and then my family won't be poor anymore with the sales. I just need to find a ticket, but I don't have enough spare money to buy chocolate when I can spend it on food for dinner. I only get one chocolate bar a year and that's for my birthday, which is still a week away and by then all of the tickets will have been found with how crazy people will go buying the candy…

I run to the store at that thought, knowing that they'll need all the help they can get to get everything ready for the stampede. I can't afford to lose this job because I was late on the busiest day we'll ever have. I enter through the side door with my key, shoving it shut as some people try to enter with me, and quickly toss my jacket, hat, and other accessories in a corner with my notebook before placing on my apron and walking forward to stock the shelves quickly. We only have half an hour 'til we open and I mentally brace myself for the crowd during that time.

The doors open and I remember Grandma Georgina's words from last night 'Chocolat sells chocolate'. Sometimes I wonder if she is psychic, because I'm definitely going to be selling a lot of chocolate today.