I didn't tell my grandparents about the ticket. It rested in my coat pocket while I went on with my day like usual.

I was still thinking it was just some sort of joke – that is, until the radio made another announcement later that night.

"An update on our latest ticket finder Mr. Brigadoon from Brazil – apparently, the ticket was counterfeit and thus he will not be joining the others at the Wonka factory in Cobbswatch tomorrow. So the hunt continues – who will be the last lucky winner? "

My eyes widened as I heard this, and I went back to look at the ticket I had again. It sure looked real to my eyes. But still, there was this nagging doubt in my mind about going. It was just a factory visit after all, and my grandparents would be napping most of the day anyway. Technically there was no harm in me attending.

All that chocolate to eat…

My stomach growled and I squinted my eyes shut. It hurt to go hungry after a while. But if you knew how, you could dull it just enough. Just for a little while.

But I didn't want to eat – that was the problem, I guess. And before you ask, no – I do not have an eating disorder.

It was just that sometimes you have to do something unspeakable to survive.

The very next day I slipped out an hour before the ceremony, ticket in hand. I had tried to dress nice – I put on the dress in my closet with the least number of holes in it and brushed my long brown hair neatly and tied it back with a black ribbon. The dress was an awkward fit on me – I had lost a lot of weight, and it showed – not in a good way either. I put some rouge on my cheeks to hide how unhealthy I looked, which helped some.

I looked at myself in the mirror and quickly looked away again.

I doubted again whether I should go. Would people gawk at me? Stare? It had been so long since I had spent time with people, except for the man on the bench. It was just a factory visit – what about that was so special anyway?

But I was lying to myself – I'd always been curious about the Wonka factory. Everyone was, after all. It was just so big and mysterious, nobody knew what went on inside. No workers that could be seen either – how the hell was the factory still making candy, if there was no staff? And why had Willy Wonka himself refused to acknowledge the outside world for so long?

In the end, I was simply too curious to refuse.


There was a big crowd gathered outside the tall iron gate in front of the factory – much bigger than I had expected. Several food and beverage stalls had been set up – there was even a small carousel. The press was there too, and I began to understand just what a big deal all of this was. I had been watching from afar for a little while, getting more and more nervous about joining that big crowd.

Could I do this? Did I deserve it?

I blinked, forcing the doubt away. I looked up at the huge, looming factory – it stood on the outskirts of our small town like a huge mansion. It did not look like any other normal factory should – it reminded me of a large, sleeping spider. Sprawling, waiting for something to eat to come along.

But such thoughts were all nonsense of course. It was just a building, albeit a very unusual one at that.

When I got closer I recognized some of the other golden ticket winners – they were all standing in a small group right by the gates, and a reporter was talking to them rapidly while several cameras and flashing lights went off.

I started towards them but was quickly stopped by a large man, his arm barring me from walking any further. I started to tremble, afraid.

He looked down at me with a no-nonsense, stern expression. He was dressed like a bodyguard.

"You aren't going any closer unless you have a ticket."

Wordlessly, I withdrew the ticket from my pocket and held it up for him to see. I could tell that I had surprised him – his expression changing rapidly from stony to awestruck.

"Wha-I see! Don't let me stop you – by all means."

Nobody noticed as I joined the group – all of them busy talking or listening to what the reporter was saying. She was a tall woman wearing almost blindingly red lipstick, a red jacket and even red pumps on her feet.

"It's all marvelous – simply marvelous! Don't you agree Miss Salt?" She practically screamed, holding out her microphone for Veruca Salt to answer. She glanced out over the crowd with an icy stare, and it almost seemed as if she was bored.

"I want to go inside." she said in a flat tone of voice. That prompted Mike Teevee to speak up. He was standing next to me, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his slouchy pants.

"You can't yet you dummy – it's not ten o clock yet. On the ticket it said the gates would open promptly at ten o clock. "

"Are you all excited for the secret prize?" The reporter went on asking, her giant mouth opening and closing somewhat grotesquely.

"I want to know what it is!" Miss Salt said, and Mike rolled his eyes.

"I bet there's no prize at all."

"I hope the prize is an unlimited supply of chocolate!" Augustus Gloop exclaimed, a dazed grin on his face.

"There's a prize? " I asked, curious.

And then all eyes turned towards me. I realized that I had spoken aloud and immediately stared at the ground, wishing to be swallowed up by the earth. It seemed like the whole crowd went silent for a moment as they all noticed me.

The reporter zoned in on me with a red look in her eyes that I didn't particularly like. She smiled in that phony way and honeyed her voice.

"My, and who might this be? Could it be our last and final ticket winner? Tell me your name!" she said, thrusting the microphone into my face. I blinked and looked out over the crowd, realizing that I had everyone's attention now.

"Uhm….I'm Charlie."

"Charlie what?" The reporter asked, eyes blinking rapidly.

"Bucket."

There was a torrent of laughter at that from the crowd, which made my face flush with embarrassment. The reporter went on talking as if she hadn't heard that.

"Charlie Bucket! You must be quite excited – you're a local from this very town, isn't that right?" she asked and I nodded.

"Yes, that's right."

She got extra close in my face just then and widened her eyes with excitement. It made her look a little scary.

"My, that just makes this visit extra special for you!" she exclaimed. Mike Tevee was staring at me with a frown on his face.

"What?" I asked, and he leaned in to speak more quietly so that the others wouldn't hear.

"How in the bloody hell did you not know about the prize? Didn't you read the message on the back of the ticket?"

"Uh...no."

He groaned and kicked his feet in annoyance.

"Well apparently, one of us will win some sort of prize if we're good and jolly. That is if you believe the message at all."

"Hey."

We both turned to see Violet Beauregarde, the only kid who had won the hunt for the golden ticket. We had to look down quite a bit since she was so short. She was apparently a chewing gum champion, of all things. She was not chewing gum on this day however, or so it appeared. She just looked like an ordinary child to me – except there was something steely almost about her expression.

"You better not stand in my way of the prize, okay? " she said, and Mike scoffed and looked away.

"Whatever kid, I don't care. "

"We don't even know what the prize is, so why are we already fighting over it?" I asked. It was ridiculous. Violet smirked, looking very pleased with herself.

"Champions always have their eyes on the prize."

After a few minutes more of talking amongst ourselves, the crowd suddenly went all quiet. I looked around to see what had made them when I noticed something peculiar about one of the vans belonging to one of the many news crews on site. A man was sitting on one if its roofs – perched on it like a gargoyle – just quietly watching everyone.

He was wearing rather strange clothing – a black top hat and a purple coat, and a black suit underneath. He was holding a long cane in one hand, cradling it in his lap. He looked like some sort of quirky character from a children's book.

But the most unusual thing about him were his eyes – a strange hue between violet and deep blue. They were scanning the crowd coldly, with a menacing quality that almost made me shiver. He had a face that made it impossible to determine his age – there were no wrinkles, but then marble statues have no wrinkles either, and they can be as old as a thousand years.

I realized everyone was staring at him now, and that was why everyone had gotten so quiet.

Then, he spoke. And with it, his whole demeanor changed. Suddenly he appeared kind – standing up on the roof of the van to give everyone a low bow.

"Welcome one and all – welcome! So glad everyone could be here, very glad indeed! He exclaimed, and people applauded.

"I am Willy wonka, the best chocolatier in the world – the very best! And today is a wonderful, glorious day – " he said, and then his eyes slid over to us by the main gates. He pointed his cane in our direction with a dramatic flourish.

"For today the five lucky winners of my contest will get the once in a lifetime chance to do what you all dream to do – get a closer look inside my beautiful factory! "

Again the crowd cheered and applauded. Then he hopped down gracefully from the roof of the van and proceeded to walk towards us. As he began walking towards us, I suddenly felt very nervous. I almost hid behind Mike, but decided against it. Instead I kept my eyes firmly on the ground. The others wasted no time in introducing themselves to him cheerfully.

"Veruca Salt, heiress of Nuts incorporated – very pleased to meet you Mr. Wonka." Veruca said as she held out her slender hand, smiling with benign charm. Mr. Wonka shook her hand and smiled – but it was a smile that looked plastered on rather than natural.

"Yes – I've heard all about you. Brilliant business, that. " he said pleasantly, but instead of sounding like a compliment it almost sounded like a veiled insult.

"I'm very excited to try all the chocolate, Mr. Wonka." Augustus butted in, his eyes shining.

"Of course you are, of course."

"Excuse me Mr. Wonka – but is it true about the prize? Will there be one?" Little Violet Beauregard asked, her arms crossed. She did not look impressed at all.

Wonka looked down at her and grinned.

"I never lie about prizes. You'll see."

Then the dreaded moment came when Wonka looked up and met my gaze. He simply stared at me for a long moment, not saying anything at all. I swallowed and felt very self-conscious – maybe this all had been a mistake after all.

Quite unexpectedly, he held out his hand for me to shake. He wore dark brown leather gloves on each hand, but now he had taken off the glove on his right.

I looked between him and his hand a few times, uncertain. It felt like a decisive moment – like whatever happened now would mean something permanent.

When I shook his hand, I felt something pass between us. He kept looking at me – his peculiar violet eyes wide with an emotion I couldn't name – excitement and something else, something deeper that left me puzzled.

It felt like this moment went on forever, but then he let go of my hand and once again faced the crowd in front of us, and it was like it had never happened at all.