“Robin Hood’s First Theft” (Poem)

A short narrative poem by Alyssa Wright about Robin Hood’s first attempt at thievery.

The time had come when
Stealth was now an order,
thought from whom cannot be said.
This was the test,
Would he be able to put into practice
all that he had prepared?
The archery was surely safe,
no contest to be found.
Sure-footed, strong, senses heightened,
He was ready for the job.
Up a wall,
In a window,
Past the guards,
Through the door,
Reach under the pillow,
Grab the key,
Run out the door, down the hall,
Turn the corner,
Unlock the vault,
Steal the treasure.
Before the night was gone,
the treasure was no longer in his hands,
Having been delivered through the windows
of the houses of the poor.


This narrative poem was originally written in January 2015.

If you like this, be sure to check out my other poetry, in the Poetry blog category, and subscribe to my blog! I post every day, and lately I’ve been posting a lot of poetry.

Thief! (A Short Story)

This is a relatively unimportant, though fun, bit of backstory for two of the characters from my novel-in-progress. It was initially based off a prompt, but I do not recall what it was.

~~~~~~

Mara, five at the time, was at her neighbor and best friend James’ house. Well, as she would be quick to point out, James was one of her two best friends, but regardless, she was at her best friend’s house. His mother, Mrs. Richards, had given the pair a plate of several freshly baked cookies.

Each of them quickly gobbled down most of the cookies they had snatched from the plate. James was about to to grab the last of his cookies when his mom called to him from the kitchen.

“James, you need to clean up this mess!” James glanced towards the kitchen.

When his back was turned, Mara stole his last cookie and giggled while she ate it. James glanced at Mara, eyes widening as he realized what horrible thievery she had engaged in–while his mom was talking to him, no less!

“Mommy! Mara stole my cookie!” He glared at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mrs. Richards peeked out of the kitchen, “I’m sure it’s alright, James. You had plenty. Now please bring me the plate and clean this mess you left on the floor.”

He huffed, earning a stern look from his mother.

“Coming, Mommy.”