Short Story

This is a short story titled Dot, written by an aspiring seventeen year old writer. It is not my writing but rather a writing I was asked to post in hopes of getting some honest, non-bias feedback. It was written for an English assignment where everyone was asked to describe a memory from there childhood. Please read, enjoy and comment.

Thank you in advance.

Dot

When I was younger, before I was even in school, I had a best friend. Her name was Dot and I was friends with her all through elementary school. Dot was a very unique person. She always spoke her mind and she was always coming up with strange and brilliant ideas. Every day for the bulk of my childhood, I'd go to my grandmother's house and Dot and I would have great fun.

Dot was really good at pretending. She could describe the most vivid scenes and landscapes. We would always pretend we were somewhere exciting like a foreign country, or some far-off tropical island paradise. Or we'd pretend we were filthy rich and we'd shop at all the finest make-believe stores, buying only the very best of everything. Dot's brightly colored nylon kerchiefs would become soft fur scarves or exotic feather boas. We'd play "Cashier" and Dot would become many different people. Sometimes she would speak with a crisp Southern accent or a smooth British one. Or we'd play "Restaurant". We'd create amazing confectionary wonders using soft, doughy play-dough. And sometimes we'd play "House". Every day with Dot was a new and exciting adventure.

In addition to being a talented pretender, Dot was also a gifted story-teller. When the time was right - Dot always knew the perfect time to tell a story - she and I would sit at the kitchen table and she would begin. Her stories were the best, ranging from scary ghost stories that left you on the edge of your seat to hilarious comedies that left you rolling with side-splitting laughter. Then it would be my turn and I would try my hardest to make my story as good as Dot's. I'd create off-the-wall characters that always slightly resembled Dot and I, and I'd add the most astonishing plot twists. She would always insist mine was better, even though I knew I couldn't hold a candle to her. Sometimes we'd both tell one big story. One of us would start with a sentence or two, then the other would add their own sentence. And it would go on and on until we were satisfied with the ending. The stories we made together were always the most interesting.

Sometimes, if we were in good spirits, Dot and I would sing songs. Sometimes we'd sing ordinary songs that were already written, like "Me and My Shadow", and sometimes we'd make up our own. We'd dream up the silliest lyrics and we could never get through an entire song without bursting out in laughter. Usually our own songs were more entertaining than anyone else's.

It was weird how the two of us seemed to have our own private world, separate from everyone else. She and I were inseparable, and no one else really understood us the way we understood each other. I guess that's what made our friendship so special.

Most people called her Dot, but I could never get used to it. No, I liked to call her "Nana". I can honestly say she wasn't like any of my other childhood friends, my great-grandmother, Dot. Mainly because she wasn't a child, although she always said, "I'm a child at heart." In my opinion, it was that attitude that made her the extraordinary woman she was while she was alive. To this day, I still think of Dot as my best friend.