Grandpa George was dead.

Grandma Josephine was dead.

Mrs Bucket was dead.

Mr Bucket was dead.

Grandma Georgina was dying.

The only light that still shone in Charlie's life, was his Grandpa Joe. Although, that was an old, worn down bulb, and even that was getting dimmer and dimmer as days went by. When this light went out, so did little Charlie's.

He'd never met his Grandma Josephine, she'd died only a week before Charlie was born. Many would say it was fortunate that she didn't have to outlive her daughter, Joanne Bucket, who died giving birth to Charlie. In the space of a week, old Joseph Bucket had lost his wife and daughter.

Joseph Bucket was a man who had fought proudly in World War II, he'd killed men in his past, he'd lost friends by the many. None of that compared to the pain he felt in that week. There was a silver lining though. Two lives were lost, but one was created. Joseph loved this little boy with the combined love of the wife and daughter he had lost, and he would not allow him to share their fate.

Mr Bucket had to find some source of income, the toothpaste factory he previously worked at had layed him off, due to his work rate getting slower by the day, and his attitude and tolerance depleting along with it. He had not told them about the losses he had sustained within his family, doing so would get his family into a lot of trouble. Trouble they didn't need.

Mr Bucket's plan at getting money for the family was a risky one, too risky. He got himself and his family involved with the wrong people, and as he should've expected, it didn't end how he'd have hoped. The entire Bucket household went up in flames. Joseph Bucket rescued little baby Charlie, and whilst Grandpa George attempted to do the same with his wife Georgina, the ceiling collapsed and put an end to the rescue. George was lost under the rubble, whilst Georgina could still be saved, however not without severe burns and scars, and a brain that now only half functioned. Mr Bucket thought he had nothing to lose, but on that day, Charlie lost his house, his grandfather, and his own dad.

Charlie was raised by his Grandpa Joe, and partly by his Grandma Georgina, in a new, poorly made shack that barely stood in the nearby junkyard. They were fairly well hidden from the public eye too. When trucks came by to add to the sky scraping mountains of rubbish, they never noticed the three poor, dirt coated figures taking refuge under it all. Besides, there were other things far more dazzling to look at in that very village, especially the sight they could all see from just a few blocks away.

The largest Chocolate Factory in the whole world stood there, staring right at them. It's tallest chimney was obscured from view by the clouds. Each of its windows were bigger and brighter than the moon. It was so big in fact that you could barely see any sky from looking in that direction, it was obscured from view by the great sight. And whilst it was a good distance away from the poor family, it seemed like it was right next to them. Not just from the sight, but from the smell too. That rich and wonderful smell of melting chocolate drowned out the smell of the rubbish from the tip. It was like every item in the junkyard was made of chocolate.

If only, Charlie Bucket thought.

He was eight years old now, but he'd gone through more trouble and turmoil than most people would have if they lived a hundred times over. He didn't complain about it, he didn't ask for charity, he simply made do. He inhaled the wonderful smell that came from the chocolate factory, as he looked at it with wide, adoring eyes.

The Chocolate Factory, Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, the largest in the world. What he'd give to take just one look into the magnificent place. Unfortunately, he didn't have much that he could give.

Charlie had at one point had blonde hair, now it was strewn with the same colours of the rubbish that surrounded him. It was like his own personal junkyard that sat messily on the top of his head and around his ears. His ribs could be quite easily seen through his thin, pale skin, and his thin, pale skin could be quite easily seen through his ragged old jumper, torn to peices and covered in dirt. His Grandma Georgina had knitted it for him, and whilst it itched at him and irritated his neck, it was still the most comfortable top in his wardrobe.

It was the only top in his wardrobe.

The one thing that stood out from the small, dirty, unpleasant looking figure that was Charlie Bucket, were his bright blue eyes. Among this sea of dirty brown and pale white, were two glowing, adorable pearls that shared the colour of the sky. No matter how dirty he became, they would always remain shining.

They were filled with hope. Through all of the pain, suffering and misery Charlie had been through, he continued to dream. He continued to hope. As he looked at the colossal Chocolate Factory everyday as he woke up, he knew...

'Anything is possible.'