How are you? I am okay but I want to go home. Can you please come get me soon? Every time I ask you keep telling me that writing camp will be good for me. You are wrong. I would rather be doing something more fun like reading or cleaning my room.
This will be a short letter, because it’s after Taps and I’m writing this under the covers with my flashlight. My counselor Becky said we all had to write letters home so she can mail them in town tomorrow when everyone who made their word counts goes for ice cream. I wasn’t going to get any but Becky said if I write this I can add the words to my word count and get a small twist but no sprinkles.
My cabin mates all made their word counts today, so they are sleeping. Except for one girl, who is eating candy. Why don’t you send me candy? Maybe if you did it would help me write better. The other campers here brag a lot about how fast they write. I hate them a lot.
I think I hear Becky and her boyfriend from that sailing camp across the lake outside now so I have to go. If I lift the cabin shutter real slow it won’t creak and I can spy on them. I hope her boyfriend took a boat here so he doesn’t have to swim back across the lake. Otherwise that psycho counselor who drowned last summer will get him.
I am not going canoeing in the morning. Not because of the ghost but because my all my fingers have really bad blisters from typing. They are getting worse. So come get me PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. (Those extra PLEASES make four more words, so now I have 309 so far.)
Becky’s here. She is really mad. Gotta go. But here is a picture of me with my cabin. I am the blonde one on the left at the top, in case you forgot.