Hi all! Thanks for reading my story! I do not own any of the Willy Wonka characters... sadly :( I hope you enjoy!

Pure Imagination

"Come with me and you'll be in a world of pure imagination."

It truly was. Willy Wonka was seen as eccentric, even mad, but his mind truly was remarkable. He sculpted the world to fit his view of what reality should be, and here he was, after all those years, revealing it to his 5 prospective heirs. He gazed at the chocolate room. It was his favorite. He felt at home in this room, and he reveled in its purity and whimsy. It was this room that was built first when he constructed his colossal factory, and after stepping through the peculiar door he constructed himself for the millionth time, he was all over again, impressed with himself.

"Take a look and you'll see into your imagination."

He looked at the children's faces. Pure amazement. He had accomplished one of his goals, to entrance and engulf his guests, to invite them into his strange and genius mind. They were dumbfounded. He needed them to be. He also needed to see how their tiny minds worked. In order to have one of these children run his entire factory, his entire dream, he needed them to prove their worth. What was of the upmost importance: their minds. Not necessarily that they were in their right ones, but that they worked to produce something worthwhile. Something magical.

"We'll begin with a spin, travelling in a world of my creation."

It was a whole other world. His factory was his world. It was his everything. He hadn't left it in 20 years. In here, Wonka could create his own reality. Perhaps this had made him a little mad, perhaps a little off, perhaps a little different than the rest of the minds of the world. In his factory, Wonka had been able to explore parts of the mind and of reality he believed most did not have access to, due to their limited imagination. His was, on the other hand, limitless and unstoppable.

"What we'll see will defy explanation."

So far, the candy man himself had only scratched the surface of the mysterious and near impossible glories his factory had to offer, and his welcomed guests were already astounded. Although he had memorized every nook and cranny of the old building, to see it through his guests eyes was utterly amazing. Of course, he kept his delight contained. He was their host, not their friend. He knew only two people would remain on this tour. He knew the demise of four naughty children were yet to come, just who?

"If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it."

Wonka had a specific way of looking at the world. Actually, it was quite broad. The world was his candy store, in every sense. When he decided what he wanted to do with his life, he grabbed the world in his bare hands and took what he could, and he got a whole lot. He had made the most of his life. His factory was truly his baby, his masterpiece, his purpose. As he watched the children gorge themselves on his forest of sweets, he once again marveled in the beauty of his favorite room.

"Anything you want to, do it. Want to change the world? There's nothing to it."

Wonka did indeed change the world. He changed everyone's view of the chocolate industry. He changed the millions of people's lives who picked up a neatly wrapped chocolate and basked in its divine taste. He was about to change all of the worlds of these here children. Four of their worlds, would be crushed, but for the better. Four of their worlds will be made worse, in order for them to learn. One of their worlds, however, will be changed completely. Maybe not so completely if Wonka was left with the right person. Their world would be made into his world. The world of imagination. The world of chocolate. One of these children's worlds will never be the same again. And it was true. My life never was the same.

"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination."

He didn't know what it was like to be a normal man. He knew he was different. He knew he was a bit out of his mind. He knew his brain was odd. But any other way, to Wonka, would have been torture. I don't think he was born this way, however. He might claim that, but I think he manipulated his mind into being this way. He made his world. Truly in every sense. He created himself through time, and in the process, harnessed and unleashed the full power of his imagination on the world. Nobody knew how he did it. He just did. There was a mysterious ere to the man that even I couldn't t seem to unravel, after all my years with him. His mind was a wondrous and dangerous place, but he loved it, and wouldn't trade it for any man's right mind.

"Living there, you'll be free if you truly wish to be."

Free was a word that I think could accurately describe him. Through all of his troubles, and there were many, he was still free. From the moment he woke up in the morning until the moment he dozed off, the man was free. Free in both mind and body. He lived his dreams every day. He watched as the world a literally ate him up. He drained his ideas through his candies, and all the while, stayed safe behind closed doors. Although Willy Wonka was free, he was still, in a sense, trapped. He was trapped inside this world he molded to fit his troubled and genius mind. He was trapped within his whimsical utopia of chocolates and, well…pure imagination. Nobody ever seemed to question it. It was who he was. His whole world was imaginary, but I was lucky enough to see it. I was able to live in Willy Wonka's imagination for a long time. That is, until he left. I don't like to say to people that ask, that he died. He didn't so much die, as he left us. When Wonka devised his golden ticket plan, to find the one child heir that he would unleash his secrets upon, he knew he would be leaving us. I got to live in his remarkable presence for six years, until Wonka had nothing left to share with me. It was interesting. The man had divulged every secret, every idea, every thought that came across his mind to me, and yet, in my six years of knowing him, I never truly understand his erratic and spontaneous mind. It had many layers. Willy Wonka, indeed, was mad. I believe that to be true. No doctor or physician has confirmed it, and they may tell you otherwise, but I know, he was mad. It is in no way meant to be derogatory toward him at all. It made him spectacular. But it is, in my opinion, why he was so mysterious. There are so many parts of Mr. Wonka that so many people didn't know, even I. He was an interesting creature, and I was lucky enough to grow up with him as my mentor, and friend. The world will miss Mr. Willy Wonka, I especially. He showed the world what it means to be a free spirit. His chocolates revolutionized the entire world, and introduced us to our own imaginations. I know mine will never be the same. We love you Mr. Wonka.

So if you haven't already figured it out, this is somewhat of a eulogy for Willy Wonka after he died, written by Charlie, now about 16 years old since first meeting him on the tour. I love and have always been intrigued by the character Willy Wonka, especially the portrayal of him by Gene Wilder in the 1971 film version. I wanted to explore the character more, but felt using first person would destroy the mystery about him. So I used Charlie as a vehicle to go deeper into the twisted mind of Wonka. I hope you liked it! Thanks again!