Another story

Henry Anderson was a stocky sort of boy. He liked to explore the forests surrounding his village. His friends, especially Timothy, his best friend, had him do daring things, such as steal pies from windows.

One day, though, Timothy was very onry. He and Henry had gotten caught stealing pies. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered Timothy, but Henry had babbled that it was all Timothy’s fault, and Tim had to chop wood for the widow for a week, instead of just the normal beating.

This is the beginning of a story I wrote when I was 11 years old. I think it was supposed to be about Henry, who grows up to be a dreadful tyrant, and his first wife Meghan, who is banished to the woods and takes in other's forsaken children. I didn't finish it.