This is my version of the story "Hitting the target" or in my version "Trying to hit the target" It's long and may have some mistakes with spellings or other things to please comment any mistakes you find o I can edit it thanks. And Picture as a bonus.
A very frosty breeze blew past a miniature house in a calm, average sized village called Anna-village. In the miniature house was an adorable boy named Riley with dirt brown hair and glimmering blue eyes who had a little something called ambition, stonks of it. Riley loved being the best he could be. During competitions at his school, Riley would always win any game he would play by practicing a lot. He would even study what his opponent will play in paper, scissors rock. Once he left his parents for good and became a full grown man, his ambition took over his mind and the 23 year old man wanted to become the best at something. He did not give a care in the world what he would be the best at but he wanted to be the best. He chose archery but no one in his tiny village believed could even fire the arrow from his bow. But his ambition got the better of him and he practiced archery 24/7, literally.
On a few occasions, he would even pass out due to sheer exhaustion but he would keep on practicing. Finally, after 2 years of training, he satisfied his ambition and stopped training 24/7 and started participating in small archery competitions. He would destroy the competition every time, (literally). He won game after game, making his opponents cry in the corner as he lifts bigger and bigger trophies into the air. One day, while he was beating one of his opponents to death, a younger man came up to him in a sassy voice saying “you are quite the skilled archer, but you're not the best. I know someone who is better at archery and lives on top of a hill about 15 minutes away.” The archer Riley looked down in utter disbelief as he continued to stab his bow into one of his opponents. He responded saying “What are you implying? Of course I am the best. On bright sunny days I am the best archer in the world!” The younger and smaller man yelled “-nah a!-``''Well then prove it then little boy” The archer Riley spoke. “Fine, I will,” yelled the little man. After about 15 minutes of the two men walking and arguing, they finally reached the top of the hill where an old little house rested. When the archer stared at the wall of the house, his mouth dropped open like an anvil falling from the sky. The wall was covered by arrows directly in the center of targets. As the archer looked on with astonishment, Darion, the psychic, walked out of the house and spoke in a nice way, “Hello there” The archer immediately calmed down and asked the million dollar question that he was dying to ask. “you can hit the direct center of the bullseye every time right? So how?And also how did you afford all the targets? Darion chuckled and whispered into Riley's cold ear “Well you do things your way, I do things my way, first I shoot the arrow and then I paint the target around the arrow.”
(Bonus)
After hearing that information, the archer touched the cold dry wall of the house and yup, the targets were made out of paint. He turned around and looked at Darion. After a few seconds of staring at each other, the archer ran up to Darion and proceeded to punch the life out of Darion. After he almost killed Darion, he proceeded to continue training to make sure no one would ever tell him there was someone better than him at archery ever again.
