Needs a title (and a whole lot of work)
"A crowd of people, standing at the gates of the Factory, whispering among themselves. One word, spreading like a disease, making hearts race, causing panic. A spark in the hearts, and idea in the mind: revolution. It had been on the brink for years, but now, in the midst of yet another war, it had reached its limit. The people, starving and cold, would not stand for the oppression anymore. No more jobs, buisinesses failing, families losing everything. It was dry kindle on a windy day, and that day, it was ignited. A young man, no older than fifteen, standing on a crate, brown hair in his grass green eyes, talking softly at first. A woman in the crowd told him to speak up, and that he did. His voice grew in volume and passion, until he had the entire crowd captivated. He spoke of a world, where people could make their own choices. Have the rights of the wealthy without paying off the government. Everyone was equal; everyone was free. He was shouting, his patched street clothes hanging loosly on his slim form, his arms waving in the air, guestering to emphasize his points. Police opened the gates, but no one rushed in. No one shoved past each other to get some work in. No one moved to stop the police as the pushed through the thickening crowd. No one saw the officer pull out a pistol, telling to boy to be quiet. Awe turned to alarm as a shot rang out. Fired into the air, but the intention was clear. The young man froze; the police got him off the crate, and took them with him. No one in that crowd ever saw him again. Two weeks later, they burned the facotry to the ground."
The documentary droned on and on in a voice probably meant to make me fall asleep. The Revolution had been over for nearly 3 years now. It hadnt even touched this part of the country. Over on the west coast of Ladinia, things had gotten a little rought, or so I'd heard. As a fourteen year old, nothing had really affected me. I was turning seventeen in just a few days. Just a few day until the mark of the end of the Revolution. Yeah, it coincidentally coincided with my birthday. How awkward. I leaned forward on my steel desk and traced my finger over the patter someones graphite pencil had drawn weeks ago. All but compltetly faded, it was only visible from that exact angle. I started thinking about my trip to the north comming up next week. We would get out of school for a few days, celebrate the end of the Revolution (what little one it was) and then go back. That was the only good part about my birthday being on the same day as the anniversary. Turns out, the boy in the documentary dissapeared exactly one year before the Revolution ended. He inspired them. But that was only luck. That factory going down really had nothing to do with the whole war.