The Thief

Elizabeth Gearhart, student submission

You have heard about the hero and the happily ever after, but this isn’t about the hero. It’s about the thief. He started his day like any other day, stealing from the shops that lined the streets and wandering around in the forests. But on this fateful day, he stole more than usual.

He stole.

And stole.  

He stole the rocks from the fairies, and he stole the leaves from the trees. He started stealing big things and small things, important things and insignificant things. But soon he would make a great mistake. He stole too much. Anger started growing and soon set out for a hunt. Speeding through the trees of the forest it searched and searched, anger rising with every second.

As the day went old and the sun drew to an end, he started to grow tired, concerned of his souvenirs. He fled to rest at his camp in the darkest part of the forest. He gathered his toys and rested upon them. He heard the ground rumble in grief. The trees started to shake and roars could be heard from every direction. The things he stole soon started to vanish. So, he grabbed what he could and started to run.

Running through the forest hiding from their big eyes and their sharp teeth, their feet thumping on the ground as they staggered after him. The things he stole grew heavier and heavier, the items soon grew too heavy to carry and dropped. Their claws reached for him, he knew he was going to die. He could feel their claws dig into his back. The blood flowing down to the ground.