Fairy Tail: Our Generation

CRITICISM.

Mkay so I've decided that I'd participate in a writing contest at my school (summer writing contest) and I did a little something.

Originally, it was going to be a novella, then I was like...

Juuuuust kiiiiding.

So I did a short story.

Alright I haven't finished, but the basis I hope is pretty clear.

Its only about 600 - 700 words (has to be 1000 for short story), so I hope you'll read it and give me constructive criticism.

Also, I have an idea about not putting dialogue (I feel as if I put too much dialogue in my writing already, so I'm training myself lol), but it looks like it does need it, then PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

ALRIGHT ENOUGH TALKING HERE IT IS:

. . .

People have a lot of bad news, all the time. I know that. From finding out your parents are divorced to having to fight some war, bad news can range from bad to really bad to flat out horrible.

     The worst news that I had received?

    When I was fifteen, my country decided that books were leading us all astray. They were poison to our minds, our society. Books taught us subjects and things that we weren't supposed to know about. Books were possibly the most dangerous weapon known to the human race, do you have any idea why that is?

    It was something that finally gave me hope in this dreadfully dreary planet called Earth. Something that brought minds and even hearts together.

    It was called imagination.

    Imagination gave us clarity. It made us see things that others couldn't. We were filled with joy and excitement, all while dreadful actions were happening around us. Those that couldn't use imagination, they were corrupted by those dreadful actions that the rest of us were running away from. They'd never been much of a threat. We've been bullied and made fun of, but those with a creative mind have been more successful than the bullies could ever be.

    However, as time went on, less and less people were using their minds to create beautiful worlds and people. The bullies caught up to us.

    We were put out like a candle.

    The books that we read, the ones that gave us that clarity, were burned. Our fantasy world was gone. Those characters that I loved oh so dearly, were dead.

    I cried the night they came to my house. I knew what they were there for, and I fought. They laughed at me, they pushed me onto my living room couch and knocked our bookshelves over. I tried to stop them, but my brother held me back.

    He was crying, too.

    At the time, I wasn't sure why. He never read, he never enjoyed reading. Why would he care?

    They ransacked my bedroom, my parent's bedroom. They took everything. Every page that was from another person's mind was thrown to be put in flames.

    I didn't sleep that night. My sheets were soaked with my tears, and my mouth was dry from crying so much. I sobbed.

    They didn't understand. They couldn't understand what books had done for me, for us. They saved us from this forsaken world.

    As if books weren't enough, you known what else they'd taken from us?

    Four years later, art. Because they said that anything that wasn't realistic was considered useless.  

    One of my friends called me, they'd taken her sketchbook away. All of her art supplies that she'd saved so much for, was taken with it.

    I couldn't believe it.

    The same day my friend called me, was the day I asked my brother a question. Why did he cry that day, the day when our books were burned? Even if he didn't read?

     The answer was simple enough. In that one bookshelf, the one he held me back from protecting, were comic books. Ones that collected dust then, but he'd enjoyed them as a child. Our father read them to him when he was younger, and he'd had some fond memories of them.

    That was when I figured I had enough.

    Books and art is what the world built itself upon. Fiction or not, we need them both. We need that clarity.

    I've never been a rebellious person. Give me a cup of tea and a book, and I'd have calmed right down. They took that book away, and then had the gall to take other people's hobby.

    July 4, 2085, I wasn't celebrating our Independence day.  

    In fact, I was ruining it.

    People have a lot of bad news.

    Our government was about to receive some.

. . .

Please help!

Although I hope you enjoyed it enough as is XD

Thank you guys so much!

Sye!

P.S. This is based off of the book, Fahrenheit 451, and I do really really really recommend it. It's only 120 some pages (I believe) and it's so so good.