He just didn't understand. The pain, the sorrow. Well, actually, I don't think he understood anything at all. It was always about the candy, and as much as he denies it, what I am trying to tell you is the truth. Willy Wonka just does not care for people.
I saw the signs, as I got older. Sure, Will is nice to me, but it's people beyond that that I am worried about. Will has a fear of talking to others, as if merely a handshake gives him a horrid disease. What I want to tell my beloved mentor is that it is ok to be shy.
Ha! Shyness! Like I will admit ever to him that that is what I believe him to be. He has had his bad moments in the past. That one is for sure, but he can't just keep hiding all his life. Will has to get out there.
But I, won't be the one to help. Not now. Not ever. Not after what he has put me through.
The impact of the news that Charlie Bucket's family had died in a plane crash, hit like a bullet. Willy had not been in the plane crash, but in his mind he could see the flames. No, not see the flames. He could feel the flames as they ran like an Olympic runner across the inside of the plush purple carpeting of the first class cabin.
It didn't matter that his plane had been destroyed. Never mind the millions it took to build, all that mattered was Charlie.
After being sure that he died, Will spent days in Charlie's room, looking at all the memories. The Wonka candy wrappers on the walls, the infamous golden ticket over his bed. Most of those things didn't matter. All, except for a diary.
Some people may think that boys don't write in diaries. It may seem like a girly thing to do, writing out your feelings. But there it was, written in slanted handwriting on every page. Every thought, every word Will had ever mentioned to Charlie was rewritten in the book.
Will believed in privacy. However, nothing could stop him from devouring every page of Charlie's book.
This is just a small clip of a new story I'll be writing. Hope you like it!