The Silent Muse

Due to the fact that the wonders of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory were confined to the inside, people who lived in the small town surrounding it didn't have much to look at but a very large grey building. Sure, people pondered it, often standing for hours at the large gates trying to find out what was inside, but after awhile people started to lose interest and turned back to their own lives at work and home.

All this was about to change however. Two years previously, construction was announced on a huge art galley that would not only bring new attention to the town, but also bring in what were the biggest artists in the world to show off their pieces. Well, two years had gone and past and what was left over was a magnificent building made of glass that stood on the opposite end of town, directly facing the Chocolate Factory, the other claim to fame.

The gallery itself, besides being made of glass, had special lights embedded into the building's nine floors that would shine onto the ceiling and bounce off the glass, setting the place glowing with the colours of the rainbow at night. In this way, it stood out in stark contrast to the factory, which was what the builder of the structure had wanted.

All kinds of people had come from around the world to the gallery's red carpet opening. Besides rich people, celebrities and art connoisseurs, there were of course, the artists themselves. Most were adults in their forties and early fifties. However, exceptions were also among the group. One was a boy of fourteen, who after being confined to a wheelchair, made art by putting paint on the wheels and running them along a huge canvas. He called it "Track Art", and this was become increasing popular.

Another artist was in her early twenties and made abstract art. Her work was indescribable. This wasn't because it was amazing, even though it was. It was rather hard to describe because people could not understand what the inspiration was. Her sculptures were twisted in places no person thought you could twist and their were lacy ribbons in places where most people would never place lace.

Most important of all these artists was Flora May's work. She was in her twenties as well and approaching her thirties, and was probably the most well known of all the artists in the room. It wasn't because of her amazing abstract art that attracted people to this woman, though people loved it, but rather something very interesting about Flora as a person.

Flora May was autistic. Her condition was high functioning enough for her to understand emotion and fee empathy, but what she had in areas other autistics had, she shared one thing with most autistics that was proving to be very difficult for most people in the gallery to deal with. That, despite their efforts to talk about her amazing work, Flora May would only give feeble nervous replies that she had written on cue cards.

Keeping to herself for mostly the entire night, Flora only walked around the gallery with her sketch book, stopping at one painting and then another, doodling at every time. Sometimes observers to the painting Flora was drawing out on a piece of paper, craned their necks to see, but every time she caught their gazes, slamming her book closed and moving on to a painting far from the observers. This carried on until late in the night, ad soon most people were gone, and only the sounds of a few curious people remained. At this time Flora had made several drawings and was packing up to leave when she caught sight of a young boy observing one of her most famous paintings, his head tilted slightly to one side. He sprung to life when he saw her.

"Are you Flora May?" he asked.

Flora rocked on the heels of her silver flats and nodded slowly, and then hesitantly she asked,

"Do you like it?"

"Very much Miss May. Or is it Mrs.?"

"No. I'm horrible with men. They can't fully appreciate who I am."

"Because you're autistic?" the boy asked.

"Because I'm an artist."

The boy smiled and took another glance at the painting before turning back to her.

"Charlie Bucket. I'm here with my mentor."

He craned his neck past her. Obviously, he had walked off in another direction and the boy was searching for him.

"He would love to meet you. He's brought a couple of your paintings already."

"I'll be sure to send him a thank you note then. Goodnight Charlie."

Flora began to walk in the opposite direction toward her home, where she would be able to sit back in her favourite armchair and watch episodes of Spongebob.

"Wait!" Charlie called after her, but Flora quickened her step and headed downstairs. Due to her eyes being downcast and her hurried step, she couldn't' stop fast enough to avoid crashing into a tall figure. Now sitting prone on the floor, she looked up to see who the person was.

It was enough to send her imagination spinning. This person, though she didn't know who it was, was so unique in his attire that she couldn't help but stare in awe. He was wearing a dark purple coat with a matching coloured top hat, and although it was indoors, he was wearing a pair of dark black sunglasses. That wasn't the most amazing of all. What Flora found to be the most interesting was his cane, which was made of glass, filled to the brim with hundreds of small multicoloured things inside, all topped off with a round black and white striped ball.

"Who are you?" he asked, and his tone sounded rather rude to her ears.

"Flora May sir." said Flora as she got to her feet. The man had his back now turned from her, but he quickly spun around when he heard her speak.

He looked at her up and down, from her short orange hair, to her white top with the picture of a daisy on it, to her dark washed jeans and silver flats. In her outfit, she must have looked like a fairly young girl.

"Miss May? I…oh! You found him." came a voice. When Flora turned around, she saw it was Charlie, who was pink faced and panting from running.

"Can I draw you?" Flora asked Willy, and then quickly covering her mouth, realizing what she just said.

Willy reached out and moved her hand from her mouth. The contact seemed to shock the both of them and they both moved away.

"Really?" Willy asked. Flora couldn't tell if he was happy or not with his sunglasses on.

"I just…forget it! I can't retain eye contact with people and your busy."

Flora started to walk away but Willy caught her by the arm.

"I'll teach you."

"Even if I wanted to I can't. Also, your two inches away from my face sir."

Willy moved away quickly moved away and Charlie laughed.

"Don't worry about Mr. Wonka, Miss May. He's just a fan."

"Right. I should be getting home then."

Flora ran home at that point. She couldn't believe she had held a conversation for so long. It must have been a record. With that, she settled into an armchair and proceeded to watch her cartoon.

I refuse to leave this story in the dust like the rest. I'm sticking to this until further notice.