A/N: Well, here it is… my second CatCF fic. I think I've mentioned the first is in the garbage. It was terrible, really. (sigh) Anyway… On to better and brighter things. The legal stuff! Yay! Now that you think I'm crazy let's get it over with… I don't own Charlie, I don't own Wonka… I don't own the idea… I just mess around with it and make silly childhood wishes. But hey, nothing is impossible, right? As for this story itself, the title was taken from Christian hit "Lion" by Rebecca St. James, along with many of the chapter titles, more to come on that later. On with the tour! Oh yes, rating for violence (your definition of graphic is yours, I don't think its as bad as some I've read) in the first chapter, other than that, it's pretty clean. NOW we're ready to begin…
He seldom went out anymore. Even with Mr. Wonka, it was rare that they set out on the streets. In the year he had been at the factory with Mr. Wonka, they left (with much sweet-talking from Charlie) maybe once a month… But today Mr. Wonka had proved to busy to wander the city with Charlie. The eccentric inventor gladly sent his pestering young heir on the way to town with a few bills (his mother exchanged them for coins at the large iron gates) and a cheerful reminder to put on his new pair of deep purple thick woolen boots. Charlie accepted a kiss from his mother with a large grin and then set off into the cold day.
The snow was crunching beneath Charlie's feet as he scanned the shops that lined the small streets of the city. The brick red buildings were dusted with snow, making them look like gingerbread houses, sans all the candy, of course. From where he was standing he could see the field where his house had been, and even a few of the remains of it's existence before Mr. Wonka had taken them into the factory and placed them in a new (though almost identical) house in the Chocolate Room.
The school house had been renovated, now sporting a new play area and several basketball hoops, though they were temporarily out of service because of the snow and ice. He could see through the lighted windows, the old chalkboard and the old desks. He could almost smell the chalk from math, the stench of his chemistry experiments… Smiling to himself, Charlie found his desk in the corner and allowed himself to remember the days he used to live in.
As he walked down the street, the people passing him smiled and waved, anxious to know this boy who had become instantly famous in the small town. And that was only because of the ticket! When they found out the real prize… Charlie could only imagine! People would always want to be friends with him, because he was the heir to the factory. He would, undoubtedly, become a public icon just as Mr. Wonka was… yet he and Mr. Wonka did not dwell on such things, because they would face these problems when they came. For now, Mr. Wonka insisted the Charlie learn… learn and be a child.
A gaggle of noise took Charlie out of his thoughts and he followed the sound across the narrow road where Bill's candy shop was packed with children. The large man was smiling and handing out candy after candy. Charlie saw several children buy handfuls of Wonka's candies and run out. Things are good, Charlie concluded as he turned towards the familiar shop, intending to drop in on the candy man that had given him his future. He was halfway across the street when from behind him he heard the voice of a boy….
"Hey Bucket! Where are you going?" Charlie sighed, his breath escaping in a small cloud of mist and heat.
"William." Charlie said kindly, turning to face a group of children he had gone to school with. "John, David, Bridges." He mentioned each by name, attempting to be civil.
"Where's your mysterious Mr. Wonka?" The one called John said harshly, sending a rock flying towards Charlie with the tip of his toe. Charlie evaded it and then shook his head in mock carelessness that was covering his disgust.
"We've seen you walking with him! And we know you know where he is!" David chirped.
"Why do you care?" He said defensively. Mr. Wonka had taught him to be kind, but Charlie would not accept the games he knew these boys would play. "He's at work."
A few of the boys barked laughter and then glanced around at the street. It was suddenly, eerily, deserted. "We just wanted to know…" William started as he advanced on Charlie, "If the magnificent Chocolatier would be around to save you."
The first punch sent Charlie towards the ground, spewing blood from his mouth. The boys surrounded him in all directions, rocks and fists flying. Charlie attempted to fight back, but ended up shielding his face from the blows. They muttered things like 'idiot', 'dunce', and 'bastard'. Bridges said terrible things of him and Mr. Wonka, pulling Charlie up off the ground and forcing him into the wall. The brick scraped the skin from Charlie's face, pulling blood from the veins in his body like a magnet.
As Charlie felt that he could fight no more, he cried. John and David cackled and snapped him with sticks and bricks on the backside, causing Charlie to cry out in anguish. They stomped on him, they spit on him, they kicked him in the side, and still the street was empty.
William final called off his hounds, sending them out of the street and back to their houses. The three boys ran off laughing and telling crude jokes. Charlie did not understand. Why were they being so cruel?
He lay motionless against the wall, afraid to move. The cold snow melted into his clothes and Charlie shivered. William was the only one remaining, pacing up and down beside his victim. Soon William stopped pacing, stooped down, and tore the boots off of Charlie's feet. The air rushed up his pants legs and through his body, Charlie shivered again. But the cold did not last long; it was replaced by a sense of total fear as he heard a knife blade lock into place. Using his foot, William spun Charlie onto his back and bent down. "Tsk, tsk, tsk…" William mocked. "I bet you think you've grown up… out of this piss hole of a town. Living in the factory and having it all." There was anger in his eyes that contrasted the calmness of his voice.
"I don't think that at all… I was lucky, that's all…"
"SHUT UP!" William bellowed, "Don't make me kill you, all right Charlie?" He brandished the knife again and smiled a sickly sweet smile. "I just want you to remember the dirt poor shack you came from…" He began to form, in his free hand, a ball of snow. Packing it tightly, he tossed it in the air a few times and continued in his soft spoken manner. "We could have been great friends, Bucket. We could have done great things together… but you and your 'luck'… you and your God-damned apple picking luck!"
In a sudden motion he plunged the snow ball into Charlie's mouth, causing him to kick and sputter, only to gasp as the knife pierced his chest. Charlie fought and screamed, but William held his mouth closed firmly. There was no choice, Charlie coughed and spit, tears streaming down his face as William carved a bloody 'W' into Charlie's upper chest.
William removed his hand from Charlie's mouth, but no screams escaped the beaten boy. With a smirk of satisfaction, William wiped his blade on Charlie's cheeks, leaving streaks of blood under his eyes and across his mouth.
"It really is a shame… isn't it? Such a pitiful excuse for a creature…" William shook his head and pocketed his knife. He turned to leave and then mumbled under his breath, "Almost forgot…" A large wad of spit landed on Charlie's face and then… as quickly as he had come…
William left, leaving a cold, shivering Charlie Bucket deep in the snow. Around him it was tinged red and yellow and brown, but in his pain Charlie did not care. Not only did his body hurt but his heart hurt… It was the strangest feeling.
The darkness was closing around the buildings. He should have been back at the factory by now, but he did not have the strength to get up. He wondered if they would look for him, or would they just wait for him to return? The sun set quickly, unnervingly quickly. The skies clouded over and the thunder rolled. In the distance, lightening bolted, illuminating the turrets of the great factory Charlie now called home.
But little Charlie Bucket was not hurrying home, or pulling out his umbrella… Charlie Bucket was crying. And as the tears fell past his face, off the tip of his nose, and into the snow beside him, it began to rain a cold, sharp rain that pierced his skin and chilled his bones.
And because of the lightening and the thunder and the rain and the snow… no one could hear the heir to the greatest chocolate factory in the world… so alone and unheard, scared, terrorized, bleeding, and crying… Charlie Bucket drifted into unconsciousness.
Author's Thoughts: Well, that was incredibly depressing (and incredibly short for my liking... but I didn't want to get into TOO much detail, you see)… but I promise it was not for nothing… Things will look up for Charlie in the next chapter… and be prepared for the introduction of an incredible man… Mr. Willy Wonka! This time without any burning puppets or catchy little tunes, sorry folks
Those things I threw in that I feel are of some importance to mention –
The Boots – Maybe a symbol here? I'll let you think about it… Let me know what you think
Charlie's town/schoolhouse/etc. – Just what I thought it would look like, and how I thought people would treat him after he found the ticket.
The weather – I'm thinking its February, cold, raining… snowy… icy… (shivers) Ew.
Final reviews? Love it, hate it? I don't care, just please review. Flames are accepted (but not to be confused with appreciated)… I have a fire extinguisher ready, trust me!