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Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado

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     A girl writes about her experiences at camp this past weekend for a "back-to-school" assignment.

Last weekend was supposed to have been fun.  Instead, it was a total disaster.

Dixie Kendrick sighed at the memory.  She pushed her bright-red hair away from her face and squinted her seafoam-green eyes as she glanced furtively at the calendar.  Holy moley! she thought, Only one week left before school starts back up again!  Can it even be possible??

Dixie groaned as she looked down at the nearly-blank piece of paper in front of her.  Its pristine whiteness glared accusingly up at her; the only thing marring it were the words, printed in blue ink: What I Did For Summer Vacation.

She decided that she would write about camp and what a big disappointment it had been, since the memory was still so fresh in her mind.  So Dixie did just that.

"Last weekend was supposed to have been fun", she wrote.  "Instead, it was a total disaster.

"First of all, the weather gods were not in our favour.  I know it rains frequently here in Jolly Olde England, but REALLY??  Couldn't it have not hurt not to have at least ONE nice day, or perhaps, even two or three?  Or maybe four of them stacked neatly in a row?

"It didn't help that this particular weekend was our annual 'sleep-away' camp.  We would be leaving the City for the quiet hamlet of Camp Crumpet several kilometres away.  We were planning a time chock-full of activities guaranteed to keep even the borest kids satisfied and happy."

Dixie stared at what she had written, then wrinkled her freckle-laden nose in disgust.  Yet, she pressed on, determined to get this assignment completed before school even started.

"Seeing the weather was grotty, we had on our haavy winter cardigans, jackets, wool pants, and whatnot", Dixie wrote.  "There were 20 of us girls, ranging in age from seven on up to 12/13.  The younger campers stayed in one cabin, while we older girls occupied the other.  We merely stared at one another: there was not one familiar face in the lot."

Dixie sighed again as she looked at what she had written.  A small smile played on her lips as she thought, Hmm.  This isn't as hard as it looks.  I've already filled up the front page!  Actually this is kind of easy ... and fun!

Dixie went on to tell about the other campers: their ages, their names, their peculiar quirks and habits, what they looked like.  She wrote about the camp leaders:  how bosy, inconsiderate, and demanding they were, and of the insufferable torture they put upon the poor, hapless campers.  Dixie compared Camp Crumpet to being in military training school.

She wrote of the tension that built up between the campers as well as the staff, and how it all had come to a head on Sunday afternoon, when one of the older girls decked one of the leaders so hard the leader ended up in hospital for treatment.

After that, Camp Crumpet was forced to close when news of the incident broke forth and people complained about the harsh treatment the young campers endured under the leaders.  This had not been the first infraction against this particular "sleep-away" camp.

Dixie grinned at the thought.  No longer would she have to worry about Camp Crumpet.  She had seen and heard more than enough.  Maybe after this year she could stay home with her mum and dad or go on a real vacation, away from home, like most families did around the world.  As far as she was concerned, Camp Crumpet was history.

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Reviewed by Mark Lichterman 8/23/2012
Kind'a reminds me: "Hello mudder, hello fadder, here I am, in Camp Granada.
Really cute story, my Texan friend.
Mark
Reviewed by Paul Berube 8/15/2012
Nicely told, Karen.
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 8/14/2012
Excellent story, Karen, well done!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

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