Page one of the book that came back
A real example · Robin Hood and the Heart of Sherwood Forest
Oliver and the Golden Arrow
An arrow that never misses, and a promise to share fairly
Made here from one photo of Oliver, aged 5. Your child can be the hero of this story too — every page drawn with their own face.
Oliver is not a real child: the photo is AI-generated.
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How this book was drawn
- ChildOliver, aged 5
- StoryRobin Hood and the Heart of Sherwood Forest
- Book8 pages, one photo
- Picture styleIllustrated
- Illustration strengthLow
- Illustration lookCartoon
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Every page of Oliver’s book
The same face from the first page to the last, painted in one style. These are the pages exactly as they came out.
The sheriff had raised the taxes again. Oliver watched his men load a family's very last sack of grain onto their cart. His fists closed tight. "That isn't fair," he whispered. A friend's whistle warned Oliver that the sheriff wanted him caught. He took the safe path into Sherwood, toward camp. Behind him, the trees closed over the road. Deep in Sherwood, five-year-old Oliver lived with a merry band of friends. Around their little fire, they made a promise: "We'll put right what the unfair sheriff keeps getting wrong!" On a narrow bridge, Oliver crossed quarterstaffs with a giant named John. Tap, tap—they played, then laughed! "Friends for life?" asked Oliver, and good-natured John bowed yes. Oliver wore a raggedy tinker's cloak, with a pot on his back. Pretending a limp, he passed through the town gate. The guards watched for green—and missed his patches! Still disguised, Oliver entered the sheriff's archery contest. He drew his bow, breathed out, and sent one perfect shot into the centre. The golden arrow prize was his! Off came the tinker's cloak; underneath shone Oliver's green! "Stop!" cried the sheriff. But the whole market closed in behind Oliver, blocking the guards while his friends showed him safely home. Oliver sold the golden arrow and shared every coin. At each doorstep, he left enough to replace what the sheriff had taken. Soon, empty cupboards held grain again—and hope.
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