Writing a story
When I was a child, my family and I, decided to go to Turkey during summer. I was probably
around 6-years-old. [I was so excited because I’ve had never been near sea before.]
The resort where we stayed at was beautiful. I especially liked the dining room because of
the interestingly carved patterns in watermelons. Really fascinating. On the second day we
decided to go to the beach. My parents left me in care of some animators, that had prepared
activities for kids. After a while they told us that we were going to the beach to make an
octopus out of sand. A big one. I wanted to decorate it so I distanced myself a bit to find
seashells. To my surprise, when I turned around they were gone and the octopus too! I had
no idea where I was, how far I went or where to find them. I couldn’t even find my slippers!
[The sand was really hot.]
I walked around a bit and finally found the deserted octopus. I just casually continued to
decorate it as if nothing happened. After some time my parents found me with the help of
the animator that was supposed to look after me. She told my parents that Turks like to
kidnap kids with blond hair. I had blond hair. I don’t remember if she got scolded or not, but
we continued in our journey.