All rights belong to Roald Dahl, WB, and Tim Burton. This story only exists for entertainment purposes, not to make money or royalties off of.

Blackness. The scariest color known to man, the absence of light, where you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face. The only way for me to fill that void...is to summon horrid memories of my dead father, Wilbur Wonka, as I sat there in a padded solitary confinement cell, where I was sentenced to life for the act of murder. He did nothing but abuse me and yell at me, telling me that I could never follow my dreams of becoming a world-famous chocolatier.

~Six years ago~

I was so furious with him...so furious that I had to wear that awful set of braces...so furious that he threw my entire stash of Halloween candy into the fire. It traumatized me like you'd never, ever believe. Not long after, when I thought my dad was absent, I combed through the ashes...and I struck gold. A lone ball of chocolate, encased in a thin wrapper made of gold-painted aluminum. I carefully reached for it with my fingers, and as they clutched the tiny candy...

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Willy?!" a fuming Wilbur screamed at me. He ran up to me and before I could react, my neck was being squeezed tight by his gloved hands, blocking my trachea. "You know you're on a strict diet! Apologize to me! NOW!"

"I'm...sorry!" I squeaked in between coughs. "It's just...I was trying...to clean up the...ashes from—"

"I'M SICK OF YOUR LIES!" He let go of me, but not before violently kicking me in the chest, and I fell hard onto the floor. I curled myself into a ball as I screamed in pain. He jumped on top of me and brutally punched me in the nose, instantly causing blood to gush out. "GO TO YOUR ROOM! RIGHT NOW!" He roughly kicked me in the back before storming away, sending endless waves of pain throughout my entire body.

The living room instantly fell silent. I could do nothing but sob like a baby as I laid there on the floor.

~Last night, six years later~

As a teenager, I had broken my dad's strict rules. At the moment, I was writing in my journal, where I kept a vast record of all the candies I had ever eaten, without his knowledge. I had developed into a mastermind of cheating and lying to others, especially to my father. He was quickly growing suspicious of me, since during every one of my dental checkups, where he invasively used barbaric steel tools to poke around in my mouth, he saw that my top left molar was slowly decaying.

Without so much as a knock, he barged into my room. I threw the journal across the room, hoping that it would land in a spot where he wouldn't see it or hear it land, but nonetheless, it ricocheted off the wall with a loud bang before landing on the floor.

"What was that, Willy?" he asked, a suspicious look on his face. I dashed in front of him, trying my best to hide the journal from view, but it was all to no avail. He roughly pushed me out of the way and snatched the journal. He flipped it open and read the first few sentences: This is my candy journal. I'm documenting every single candy that I eat, adding a new entry as soon as I try a new candy. I'll go into great detail about their flavors, textures, and how much I enjoyed them.

I watched my dad in horror, barely able to make out his face through my tears as it turned redder and redder while he flipped through page after page. Finally, with an angry growl, he grabbed a pen and roughly scribbled all over the pages, and then he doused the entire book with water, laughing with glee as the ink flowed off of the page like a river, and the paper became so soggy that it literally fell apart at the slightest touch.

"I can't believe you'd do such a terrible thing!" Wilbur screamed as he began to beat me up with his fists and his legs. "You fucking lied to me behind my back!" In a fit of pure rage, he picked up a wooden chair and threw it towards my head, and I ducked out of the way just in time. I quickly scrambled out of the room and into the basement, where my father's gun safe was stored. I knew the combination, so I was able to turn the lock and open the heavy steel door, and as my dad's thundering footsteps became louder and louder, I grabbed a pistol and swiftly armed it, and as soon as I saw the first trace of my father, I pulled the trigger.

BANG!

I cackled with delight as his lifeless body crumpled to the floor, and with my hands on my hips, I stood over him, looking down into his cold, dead eyes.

"Finally," I evilly whispered, "it's time to carve a new path for myself, to start my journey to become the greatest chocolatier the world has ever known! MWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"