Welcome to the first chapter of mine and MysteriousMaker1185s story! A very special thanks goes to MysteriousMaker1185 for being able to write my story when I was able to, you're awesome, thank you very much! We don't own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and credit goes to Roald Dahl, Tim Burton, Warner Bros. Pictures and anyone else who worked on the book or the 2005 movie.Without further ado, let's-a-go!

A painter needs no reason to make a thing of art,

Yes, there's no switch to stop and start the flow.

It's simply second nature, to wish away the grey,

Yes, there's no rhyme or reason, I was simply made this way...

"YIPPEE! It's done! It's finally done!" I yelled at the top of my lungs in relief.

After exactly twenty straight days of hard work, I finally finished a painting of the view from my apartment that overlooks none other than the gorgeous Toronto harborfront during sunset. It was a nice view, for sure, what with the blood-red sky, the gorgeous waters of the harbor, and the brilliant CN Tower jutting out of the yellow-lit, steel, skyscrapers. The perfect material to make a painting out of.

Now completing the painting itself was certainly no easy feat, for sure. Aside from having to perfect every detail possible, I also had a limited time window (around one-hundred minutes if I was lucky) to work everyday due to my painting taking place during, you guessed it, sunset. But nonetheless, my work has finally paid off. Every detail was so vibrant, and so clear to boot. I'm not exactly the type of guy to pride himself, but I'd say the whole painting looked almost photo-perfect, something I rarely accomplish with my artwork.

Now, before I go on, let me introduce myself. Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Andrew Laine. I am fourteen years old, and I hail from Toronto, Ontario (if you weren't paying attention earlier.) If you haven't guessed already, I'm just an aspiring artist, who dedicates my time to highlighting the beauty of the world as best as I can. You may ask me why I do so, and well, it isn't the most pleasant of explanations, but I'll go on.

In all honesty, I really don't believe the world is a very good place. Like, it really isn't. It's a place filled to the brim with sin and horror, that idolizes the wicked and makes life a living nightmare for the successful. I'm only a teenager, but I've always been ashamed to live with this mindset, due to how unhappy it made me. In spite of what kindness, gratitude, and compassion I can give to others, I still feel very empty and hollow. Terrible, isn't it?

I've been feeling this way ever since an accident, when I was only ten years old. I'm not sure when I want to tell you what happened, but just so anyone knows, it led to my view on humanity changing greatly. It also led to me being adopted by another family, who were kind enough to take me in. But regardless, I'm very grateful for what I have, and I hope that my future will still shine bright despite the darkness that clouds it.

"You sure seem excited, aren't you?" a familiar voice said from beneath my back, interrupting my thoughts.

"Oh, I must've shouted loudly, didn't I? My apologies, Olivia." I replied somewhat apologetically.

"Haha, don't worry Andrew, it's fine. I do it all the time. Don't beat yourself up too hard over it, alright?" Olivia replied.

"Alright, Olivia. I won't." I replied as Olivia gave me a nod, before gazing at my painting and staring at its beauty. I then decided to clean up any messes I made during the painting process, since it would be very rude to not do so.

Olivia, oh Olivia. Where do I even begin with her? Olivia Arcenciel (beautiful surname, isn't it?) was without a doubt my best friend and, starting from a tragedy that occurred about a few years ago, my adoptive sibling (I refuse to talk about why at this moment.)

Olivia was a rather interesting young lady. She was the exact same age that I was, but very different in appearance. She was tall and slightly muscular, with slightly pale skin and hazel eyes. She also had long, wavy hair that was as dark as a brilliant night sky. Olivia was wearing a violet hoodie, zipped open to reveal a jet black T-shirt. She also wore black sweatpants, long, black socks, and purple, circular glasses.

She too, was also a very talented artist, but much more social and optimistic about life in general. She is a fairly popular person, and relatively well-known throughout our school. Her art skills are very skilled and well-developed, focusing on a variety of different mediums. Although she's much more quick to the job, and focuses less on general grandeur. But nonetheless, her art is still very pleasing to look at. It's also worth noting that she's also good at making art online, even doing successful commissions for many people, earning her a lot of money.

But a trait that many people overlook about Olivia is her kindness. She is extremely willing to help people in times of need, and helped me greatly after that one, horrific tragedy. She also believes that bad people can change for the better, and that if everyone saw their flaws and tried to improve themselves, the world might become a better place. It's an ideology that I can't disagree with in all honesty, but an ideology that time and time again, fails to be fulfilled.

However, in spite of her socialite nature, Olivia does think quite lowly of herself, and relies too heavily on others for praise. She loves to fish for compliments, and is constantly trying to appeal to others. If it wasn't for my intervention, she would've probably succumbed to an eating disorder, or even the practice of self-harm by now, which are things I could never wish on someone as kind as her. But thankfully, she hasn't been exhibiting any symptoms of poor mental health, unless she's hiding it. Who wouldn't?

One thing I should mention is that she has always been the sarcastic type of girl, not mean per se, but impulsive and bad-mannered, which is a stark contrast from my more polite and reserved nature. I also suspect that she might be the more paranoid type as well, afraid of being harmed by negative influences to the point of trying to appeal to them. Hopefully she doesn't become a bad person, I still have faith in her. If she does though, maybe she should try following her own ideology. It could help her a whole awful lot.

"So, I'm guessing your painting is finally done, right? If so, it looks marvelous! Even better than I could ever make." Olivia complimented.

"Thanks! That means a lot coming from you. It took twenty sunsets of precise work, but it looks like it paid off well, wouldn't you agree?" I asked.

"Indeed! You also got it done just in time before winter break is over. Hopefully, you studied for Mr. Surfadood's World War Two test!" Olivia said.

"It's probably going to suck," I said. "But at least Mr. Surfadood seems like a nice enough man to help us after the test."

"Now, what's today's date again? Silly ol' me forgot." Olivia replied.

"January 5th, 2025." I replied.

"Gotcha. Now, you have done an impressive job, definitely. But your hands, what on Earth happened to your hands?" Olivia teasingly remarked.

In confusion, I looked at my hands, and then found out that my hands were almost completely smeared in paint of all sorts of colors and hues from cleaning up my workspace. How clumsy of me! I then decided to put my supplies down as I headed towards the blue-tiled bathroom, so I could wash the paint off of my hands.

"I'll get it fixed up," I said as I headed to where I wanted to go. "And besides, don't act too critical, I've seen you be very clumsy yourself."

"Oh yeah? Give me an example." Olivia replied.

"I'm assuming you forgot the time when you tried to, I don't know, comb your teeth." I mentioned.

"Says the one who mixed up crazy glue and toothpaste. TOOTHPASTE!" Olivia shot back.

"Hey, I could've gotten seriously hurt from that situation. Can you please not joke about it?" I scolded, remembering when I nearly choked on glue when I was only eleven.

"Alright, my bad. I guess I shouldn't have brought that up now that you mention it." Olivia said as she lessened up her sarcasm. "Just lighten up a little, alright?"

"Okay, Olivia. That's fine. I'm sorry for snapping at you, by the way." I apologized.

"No worries, Andrew. I'm sorry too. But anyways, see ya." Olivia replied.

Pessimism was always one of my biggest flaws. In spite of my attempts to depict the world as a good place, I know it really isn't. I retreat to my imagination, but due to that, I have become a social recluse, who has isolated himself from the rest of the world, depriving himself out of the happiness of regular life. Am I depressed? Maybe. But thankfully, I have received enough kindness to keep my head afloat in the sea of my emotions. However, I know that I'm not perfect. I've made many mistakes in my life, snapping at Olivia being one of them, all because of my stupid mindset, always attaching itself onto me like a leech. I despise it, yet I cannot get rid of it. One thing I could get rid of though, was the paint still on my hands. I turned on the sink, and did what I needed to do.

After I washed my hands, I decided to check myself in the mirror. If you don't know what I look like, here it is. My height and weight were pretty average for my age, nothing too noteworthy. I have fair skin that was a little tanner than Olivia's pale complexion, and dark brown eyes that resembled the color of chocolate if you gazed at them long enough. I also had shaggy, dark brown hair, that was a little long, although I didn't really care for that aspect very much. I was wearing a navy blue leather jacket, with a red long-sleeved T-shirt, cobalt blue jeans, and black sneakers. My favorite accessory that I wore on my neck was a silver heart-shaped locket, containing a few tiny photos inside of it. One of them, being a photo of Olivia and I, when we were nine years old.

I cannot stress this enough. I'm extremely glad I've met Olivia in my life. Ever since the first day of first grade, when I was simply drawing a few pictures, Olivia actually had the kindness to approach me, interested in my talents instead of judging me as a weird, quiet, creep. It turns out that we both had a thing in common. That, being art. And after that, our passions grew and grew even more, in spite of our faults, and we both had an unbreakable bond with each other, that would only grow as, after that blasted tragedy, we've became adoptive siblings.

Since I wanted my painting to dry off, I decided to go to my room after making sure there were no traces of paint left on me. It was a pretty nice room all things considered, with cyan-painted walls (with many pieces of my artwork proudly displayed on it), a beige work desk, a dark blue closet and drawer, a black television, and a red, comfortable bed. It was the perfect place for pursuing my hobbies, resting when I was tired, and contemplating about life in general. I realized that I left an unopened chocolate bar on my bed. The word "WONKA" written on the chocolate bar, which reminded me of someone else entirely.

Many people from all over the world believe in and worship many idols and religions greatly. And me? Well, I only believe in the most virtuous people. The best ones being Mr. Wonka and Charlie Bucket. Mr. Willy Wonka could simply be described as the very embodiment of imagination and creativity himself. How I'd constantly dream to meet him, the amazing chocolatier who made the world a better place with his imagination, that could make anyone smile. And what about Charlie? He's none other than the heir to the factory, who had the best qualities a man could ever had, put into one person. With their virtues, they created a testament to the greatest traits of humanity.

And that testament was none other than the factory. From what I've gathered from four anonymous people, presumed to have visited the factory through a "Golden Ticket contest" of sorts, there were all sorts of strange wonders that certainly invigorated the imagination. From meadows made of candy, to waterfalls and rivers made of chocolate, to enormous science labs, to an organized nut-shelling system using squirrels, to a room dedicated to transporting chocolate through television, to elevators made completely out of glass.

All of these concepts were fascinating for artwork, which I drew and painted from time to time, but due to the fact that I couldn't capture pure imagination all that well, I have thrown most of them away. But at least I had this Wonka Bar, which I took a bite out of. It was the flavor that mere words couldn't describe. It was so chocolatey, so sweet, so warming, so delicious, so lovely, and so much more. I left the rest of the Wonka Bar on my desk, and layed on my bed.

"What is pure imagination?" I thought to myself. "How do they ever attain it? Can I attain it? Would my faults prevent me from reaching pure imagination? Can I change if so?"

All of my reflections were interrupted by a doorbell, which led to Olivia, as par for the course, running over to the door and opening it, revealing her biological (and my adoptive) parents, who were home from their work. Their names were Vincent and Vanessa. I should go over them right now.

Vincent was a middle-aged, muscular, fair-skinned man with black, neatly-combed hair, a gruff moustache and goatee, and sapphire blue eyes. He was dressed in an indigo security guard uniform with a black leather jacket and black business shoes. Vincent worked as a high-level security guard in an art museum that was a little bit far from here, stopping thieves and criminals from taking advantage of what the museum had to offer. Mostly because of this, he has a serious attitude, and isn't very keen on any nonsense among the family. However, he isn't exactly hostile towards it, and can be very kind towards other people when given the opportunity. He's a very helpful and down-to-earth man as well, making sure we're safe and secure.

Vanessa was a tall, tan-skinned woman with light brown hair in a bowl haircut and hazel eyes. She wore a magenta T-shirt, with lilac yoga pants, pink, circular glasses, and a beige jersey jacket. Vanessa worked primarily as a well-respected librarian, serving many children and adults in a library a few blocks away from here. One of her favorite hobbies was helping in decorating the library from time to time, as beauty was always a keen interest of hers. This also carries over to her domestic life as well, as she always helps us if we have any difficulties, and gives lots of life advice as well. But despite her kindness and dedication, she tended to be very quiet, but more secretive about it. She is definitely capable of speaking to us from time, but if given a chance to be quiet, she'd probably take advantage of it as much as she can.

"Welcome home, Mom and Dad!" Olivia greeted.

"Thanks! Sorry for being late, we were quite busy at work. Now, we'll make dinner for you two soon. But before that, we'd like to ask if you both did anything special today." Vincent said in a formal tone of voice.

"Well, I studied for school, since today's the last day of Winter Break. Tragic, isn't it?" Olivia asked.

"Yep. It sure is. But it's always good to get back into the habit." Vincent responded.

"Now how about you, Andrew?" Vanessa asked, as cheerily as she can be.

"Well, to answer that question, I have something to show you guys! Check it out!" I instructed.

"Oh, I've already seen it myself, but let me tell you that it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen." Olivia said.

"Ooh, another art piece? I'm always glad to see those." Vanessa replied eagerly.

"Is it the one that you've been working on for weeks? I was always curious to see how it would go. I'm excited!" Vincent stated.

Before I opened the balcony door, I decided to give them one simple instruction.

"Hold your breath, make a wish, count to three." I said.

"One, two, three." Vincent and Vanessa whispered to themselves.

I then opened the balcony door, with my painting of the Toronto harborfront standing in the middle of the balcony for Vincent and Vanessa to see in its full glory.

"You can open your eyes now." I added.

Vincent and Vanessa then opened their eyes to gaze at my beautiful painting. After a few seconds of sheer silence and astonishment, Vincent decided to speak.

"Andrew," Vincent said to me. "I'm very proud of you! You're talents have grown so much over the years, and it really shows with this painting. Why, it looks nearly photo-perfect. Thank you so much for making this. I love you!"

"Thank you too, Vincent." I said, too humbled to say any more.

"You took the words out of my mouth, honey! This amazing piece of artwork would make a fantastic decoration for our house. Imagine us, having a family moment together, seeing a wonderful portrait of the sun setting down, all thanks to you. I love you too, Andrew! Now, should we hang it up?" Vanessa asked.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" I answered.

"I'm all aboard with that idea!" Olivia agreed.

After many hugs and kisses, I felt very pleased to know that people actually appreciated me, and my work. It made me feel very happy and grateful, that I almost forgot about all of my troubles in life. But before I could say anything, I saw something extremely strange outside. Enormous crowds of people were following a truck, with the familiar Wonka logo on it. It seemed that everyone else in the family caught onto the sight as well.

"That's funny," Vincent said. "I've never seen any sight like this. Hopefully it's nothing too bad."

"What on Earth?" Vanessa said, confused at the sight.

"It looks like Mr. Wonka's back at it again. I always look forwards for what pure imagination he gives to the world." Olivia said.

"A new candy?" I asked. "Sweet! Wonka's candies are the best!"

"Indeed! Now, I don't think it's too late to have one candy. Mom, Dad, can we go outside?" Olivia asked.

"Ooh, excited already? Bring some money, here." Vanessa said as she gave us a few dollars. We thanked her as we headed our way outside, until Vincent jumped into the conversation.

"Be back before 6:30, alright? Since it's 6:00, I'd say that thirty minutes is definitely enough time to buy some sweets. We wouldn't want to leave you two in the dark, now would we?" Vincent mentioned.

"And don't eat your candy as soon as you get it, we're making some dinner." Vanessa added.

"No worries, we'll be fine!" Olivia affirmed as she put on some black, leather boots.

"See ya!" I said as Olivia closed the door behind us, as we set down the stairs of apartment on out way, since the elevator was in use.

It didn't take very long for me and Olivia to leave the apartment. Due to our excitement, we sprinted out onto the sidewalk, and saw that many other people were excited as well. It usually happened every time Mr. Wonka and Charlie Bucket produced a new candy, but this time, something felt even more special than before. However, all of the people out and about on the street meant that it was going to take much longer to get to the nearest candy store than usual, unless we found an alternate route.

"Hey, why don't we take a shortcut? I know a good way." Olivia suggested. Without much hesitation, I agreed.

Olivia then led me to a nearby alleyway, which was a relatively safe one as well, with no graffiti, drug dealers, and other ne'er-do-wells. Nonetheless, there was one thing I didn't like about the place. It was a rather simple thing. A dark-green dumpster, just lying below the brick walls. In it was a few unfinished sketches of what the factory was like that I made around a week ago. Art that I felt, wasn't helping my cause in trying to depict the world as a better place. It was just unproven fantasy seen through my unhappy eyes.

"You know, it's kind of a shame you throw away your art from time to time. Isn't that a waste of time to do that?" Olivia pointed out.

"Maybe you're right. It's just that, I don't want to get too emotionally distraught by my art, knowing I'll never visit Mr. Wonka's factory. I want my art to spread joy, love, and compassion to everyone in the world, not be a conglomeration of my negative thoughts." I argued.

"You know, it isn't always a bad thing to let your negative feelings out through your artwork from time to time. It's a great stress reliever for me." Olivia reasoned.

"I guess you're right. But if I do so, I might end up like him." I replied, remembering a person I do NOT want to talk about.

"Ah, gotcha. Yeah, let's not talk about him." Olivia said as we continued our way.

We then continued past the alleyway as we ended up in a much less crowded street, passing by an art museum. It looked oddly familiar, with its enormous structure was made completely out of white steel…

No, I refuse to describe it any further. It was that place I NEVER visited. Not even Vincent, Vanessa, or Olivia would stay for long. It was that place, ever since my original parents, when I graduated elementary school, that fire, the grief, Olivia's family adopting me, the color white. Jesus, why does the color white make me sweat? I hate that stupid color! It's nothing more than a testament to the trauma I endured. I can't bear to look at that place any longer. It was tearing me apart by the very second, and I wanted to get away from it as soon as possible.

"Andrew," Olivia called out upon seeing my terrified expression. "Are you doing alright? What's wrong?"

"Let's get outta here." I said quickly to Olivia.

"Are you having a flashback? Wait a second," Olivia said as she looked at the museum in horror. "Oh God, why did I take you here? I'm so sorry! Let's go! Take my hand!" Olivia said.

Refusing to speak, I grabbed Olivia's hand, and we rushed out of the area quickly. Believe me when I saw that it was absolutely embarrassing for me, a fourteen year old, to be petrified of one, simple place. Oh, why do these memories still haunt me? I can't stand it!

After visiting that wretched place, we strolled past a bookstore with vermilion walls, which seemed to be very busy selling many copies of only one book, which could be seen in the bookstore's display case. The name of the author appeared to be vaguely Turkish, but other than that, I payed zero attention to the book, other than the pretty graphic cover. It looked very weird, but there simply wasn't enough time to stare at it for long.

And then after that, we strolled past a television store, with news outlets reporting on a museum heist that occurred in some random city in Mexico. To me, it was nothing more than a sad symbol of human greed and envy. It was very pitiful to say the least. But before I could get lost in my thoughts, Olivia interrupted me.

"Goodness gracious! What's going on near the shop?" Olivia asked. "It's so crowded! All of the chocolate bars are gone too! Is that a fight going on? Why are all of these people stealing? Oh no!"

Immediately, I saw a rather animalistic scene at our destination. Hordes and hordes of people were inside of the red-walled candy store we've always visited, grabbing as much Wonka Bars as they could. Some paid for the Wonka Bars while others gave into their greed and outright stole them. It was hell for the policemen, for sure. It hit particularly hard for us, mainly due to the fact that we visited this shop every day to buy Wonka's newest candies. To see it be a victim of this level of greed and violence was horrible, and very disappointing to say the least.

"There has to be a reason for this!" Olivia said, extremely distraught by the situation.

"Hey, what's going on near that street light, it looks like there's some sort of poster on it. We should read it." I suggested, noticing a crowd of people gathered along a street light.

After getting through a few crowds, Olivia and I saw an enormous, blank poster containing a hefty amount of black text taped onto the street light, but thankfully, it was typed up in a very easy to read font. However, what was on it would be the most breathtaking thing I have ever read:

Attention, people of the world. We, Willy Wonka and Charlie Bucket, have some very remarkable news to celebrate. We are very pleased to announce that on February 1st, it will be the twentieth anniversary of the original tour, that occurred way back in 2005. While some of you may remember what it was like, a good portion of us do not. Therefore, it is only fitting that we give a second generation of children an opportunity to tour the factory. However, we have decided to twist one little thing up. Instead of only five Golden Tickets being passed out, we will pass out twenty, to commemorate the twenty years that have passed since the original tour.

The rules are the exact same as before, except for the change in the amount of Golden Tickets we will pass out. Twenty random children will only be able to enter the factory with the twenty Golden Tickets that are circulating around the globe right at this very moment. These Golden Tickets, printed out of golden paper, will be hidden underneath the wrapping paper of twenty ordinary Wonka Bars. These Wonka Bars will be spread all throughout the world, and can be found in any shop in any street, town, city, country, and continent right here on planet Earth. Find one, and you're all set! Now since the only way to enter the factory is by winning a Golden Ticket, we advise that you be on the lookout for them! Be at the gates of the factory, (located in the British, American, and Canadian owned city of Wonkashire) at 10 AM with your Golden Ticket (and at least one guardian to prevent any mayhem,) and you'll be granted a wonderful tour of some of the greatest sights the factory has to behold. Twenty years ago, we promised a very special prize that one of our lucky winners earned. Will we continue this "special prize" for the second tour? Maybe. Maybe not. It must be believed to be seen after all.

We're not very certain on who will find these tickets and who will join us in the tour, but I'll be very pleased to invite them onto the tour on February 1st, 2025.

We wish the entire world the best of luck!

Signed, Willy Wonka and Charlie Bucket.

I couldn't believe it. This had to be an extremely elaborate prank, it had to. But then I saw the news networks from the televisions in the nearby television store Olivia and I passed by earlier. Based on the worldwide chaos it has caused, I'd say it was legit. Jesus Christ, all of the worldwide crowds, the chaos, the riots. It was so surreal, and so unexplainable. But yet, all of these sights all meant one thing. All of this HAD to deal with Willy Wonka. Whatever magic he pulled, it worked well. Too well, even. The contest has now begun, and the entire world population was ready to try to win their way into the factory. Sheer chaos at its sweetest form.

However, not before long, my bewilderment and confusion then turned into excitement, an emotion I rarely experienced. This was it. This was the ultimate chance to enter the place I have dreamed of visiting ever since I had my first Wonka Bar at the age of four. I knew completely well that Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory was a place of hopes, a place of dreams, and a place of pure imagination, which led me to one conclusion...

I had to go there. It would be very hard for sure, since it was me and Olivia versus the ENTIRE WORLD POPULATION. There was an extremely low chance I would be invited, but for once in my life, I had no excuse to be pessimistic. Staying hopeful was the only way, after all, to enter my dreams in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I was given. It was a chance to discover and experience my pure imagination, it was a chance to meet my greatest childhood idols, and most of all, it was a chance to redeem myself for my vices in a place that encourages repentance and good values. If I could get my hands on a Golden Ticket, Olivia and I would be granted these things when the day of the tour arrived. All we needed to do was find one.

We set off to Vincent and Vanessa's apartment instantly, without looking back...

What did you guys think about the first chapter? I'd like to say thanks to MysteriousMaker1185 again for writing this chapter, this story wouldn't be a thing without his help.