Arrows is a story by Michael Rosen in his book Jelly Boots, Smelly Boots.
Me and my friend Harrybo, we were playing Arrows. You take the grass that's got pointed tops, you pull one off and you, *ptchoo*, throw it. It can glide through the air. And if it lands on something soft, *tick*, it can stick in, in something like a jumper or your hair. We love playing Arrows.
We found this open window on the wall of the alley by my house. We stood back from the window to see who could get an arrow through the window. First it was his turn, then mine. *ptchoo* *ptchoo* *ptchoo* Mostly they missed. Then... *ptchoo* One went in! Yeah! "ARROW!" we shouted. Then we carried on... *tick* *ptchoo* *tick* *ptchoo* '''''... missing again and again, heh.
All of a sudden, a man appeared in the alley. It was the man we called Baldy. He came marching up and stood there in front of us. He holds out his hand he looked down at it. "What do you think this is, eh?" He shouted. We look down there stuck between his fingers was... *whoop* an arrow. He told us to clear off, and we did.
Later, when we sat down 'round at Harrybo's place, we talked about how the arrow must have gone whizzing through the window and landed on his hand, and we imagined him sitting there, and an arrow coming from nowhere: Weeeeeeeee! And just happening to land on his hand. "Wow! What a shot!" and we laughed and laughed. Then, much later, Harrybo said, "I wonder whose arrow it was, yours or mine?" And neither of us knew. And neither of us will ever know.