Requesting Critiquing.

So, I wrote a short story called "The Unhappy Bush" a couple of weeks ago. People have told me they liked it, but I would like some critiquing from you guys:)
That, and I figured that it wouldn't hurt to post for once! I haven't been on here other than to read all of your stories because it's been a while since I've worked on any of my other story additions. *sad face*
I hope that this blog can start back up after a while, if you all aren't too busy! I miss you guys lately and all of your wonderful ideas:)

Maddie

(And finally the story.)

The Unhappy Bush

There once was an unhappy bush, a little brown and thorny bush, resting in a sleepy garden, subdued by the falling snow. Two people came walking around and looked at the bush.

“That’s an ugly little bush.” Said the first person,

“It’s very ugly.” Agreed the second person and they both went on their way. The little brown bush heard this and started to weep. The wind heard the bush crying and blew over to it.

“Why do you cry, little bush?” the wind asked, rustling its little brown leaves gently.

“The people said I was ugly and it hurt my feelings because I know it’s true. I’m little and brown and ugly.” The little bush sobbed.

“You are not ugly, just young and cold. Just be patient and you will grow taller and you’re cold leaves with turn green. When this happens, I will come back and dance.” The wind said in a comforting voice and then blew away.

The little bush was thankful to the wind for being so nice and he believed what the wind said, so the bush waited.

The snow stopped falling and melted away; Spring was here! And just like the wind had said, the little brown bush grew taller and greener. And the wind came back and danced in the tall green bushes leaves.

The bush was happy and smiled all day and even at night while it slept.

One day, a child was playing by the garden when he noticed the beautiful green, tall bush.

“May I take a branch of your green leaves, beautiful bush?” Asked the child.

The bush was so happy at being called beautiful, that it told the child to take its most beautiful, green branch; the branch that held its biggest, prettiest leaves. But when the child grasped the branch, he cried out in pain. When the child pulled his hand away, a big drop of red blood slid down his hand.

“You tricked me!” The child cried, “Your branches are covered with thorns!” And the child ran away, holding his hand and tears falling down his face.

The grass outside the garden despised the bush.

“You tricked the child and poked him!” “What good are you if all you have are thorns?” “Nobody will like you know.”

And the bush began to weep again. “Now my beautiful leaves no longer matter because of my thorns.” it mourned.

Now the sun heard the bush weeping and he sent down warm, comforting rays of light.

“Do not cry, green bush. You didn’t mean to hurt the child.” He said.

“But I did hurt him and now no one loves me. I only wanted to share my leaves because he was so kind to call me beautiful.” The bush lamented.

“The child didn’t know about the thorns and in your moment of happiness you forgot to warn him. It was an accident.” He consoled the bush. “Go now and explain what happened. It wasn’t right of the grass to blame you.”

So the green bush did and the grass listened to it then apologized for accusing the bush of hurting the child.

As spring wore on, the flowers in the garden grew their petals. They flaunted their colors and celebrated. The tall green bush celebrated with them.

The green bush smiled and sang and the wind sent its beautiful leaves dancing.

But then a flower asked, “Where are your petals, bush? The spring is almost done.” And all the other flowers heard the question and they all asked the bush the same question.

“I don’t know!” The bush exclaimed. “I thought I was just a bush.”

And the sun was hidden by grey rain clouds.

The flowers left the bush and went to play. So the bush looked up at the clouds and grew sad. Then the rain started to fall and the bush grew sadder.

“Don’t be sad, green bush, sleep.” The rain whispered. “Tomorrow you will be even more beautiful.”

So the bush slept and the next day when it woke up, it was surrounded by smiling and surprised faces.

“What’s the matter?” The bush asked.

“You have flowers!” the rest of the garden squealed with delight. “You are a rose bush!”

And the wind came and danced and danced and wafted the sweet fragrance of the bush’s roses for all to smell. The beautiful rosebush outlasted the other flowers. The two people came back and said the bush was beautiful. The child came back and all was forgiven when he found the red flowers peeping out of the green leaves.

And the tall, beautiful, green rosebush – which used to be little, ugly and brown, lived happily ever after.