This was written December 6th, 2025
The Camp
How excited I’d been to go to the summer camp. Every year at summer’s end, people kept talking about it, usually gleefully. Sharing their memories, you could tell it was they were convinced they’d had the best time of their lives! Everyone could recall but great memories of it. Honestly, I don’t recall anyone ever sharing a single bad recollection. But alas, all things do come to an end.
Indeed, this year was different. After months of pestering my parents to go, and them rebuking each of my arguments, pushing back against the prohibitive cost, they eventually relented. And of course, it did mean I’d get to spend the summer with my best friend over there. But little did I know it would also be the last time I would see him. The end of the summer turned into a time of mourning.
The story: no one had seen him as he sneakily left the dorms at night, and headed for a late night dip. The next morning, his corpse had been found: he’d drowned. I remember being to the news the next morning, when this was announced. I guess I was shocked, because the memories don’t include the soul wrenching devastation I would have expected. My best friend, the one I’d been spending all my free time with, goofing around, chatting, playing games, sharing theories. How could I not be crushed, it simply made no sense! I’d been with him less than 12h earlier, and now, just like that, gone. And what had I felt? Hollow…as if I’d simply been…numbed to the experience. Maybe I had just overwhelmed me, paralyzed by the suddenness and unexpectedness of it all? Or was I just such a heartless monster? A psychopath? Who in their right mind could possibly care so much about someone, and feel so little at their passing away? In retrospect, that was the first unsettling detail.
Regardless, this resulted in the camp being cut short, an unprecedented event in its history. Unsurprisingly, we’re children after all, a lot of people were upset about my friend’s death, not because someone had died, but because of what it was taking away from them. Funerals were soon held, sponsored by the camp. They’d paid for all the expenses, allegedly as a way to atone for their mistake, for not being watchful enough, letting this happen on their watch.
The ceremony was beautiful, although for some unknown reason, it was a closed-casket ceremony. That didn’t make much sense to me, since he’d drowned, but who was I, a mere child, to argue. But it did mean I didn’t get another chance to see him, to properly say my goodbyes. But there, up front, was his casket, adorned with many bouquets, memorabilia (some video-game related ones I’d chosen in his honour), and a beautiful picture of him, taken the day we were headed to the Camp, an aloof grin covering his face.
As his best friend, I had also been involved in the planning of ceremony. His mother had asked me if I wanted to participate, and I could not possibly refuse. I helped choose some (tasteful) music that was meaningful. I also crafted a eulogy which I recited in front of the crowd. Incidentally, this is the point at which it all hit me. As I was about to conclude, I lost it and started tearing up. And now that the floodgates were open, it wasn’t long before those turned into waterfalls. In the corner of my mind, I also felt relief (was this selfish?)…maybe I wasn’t a monster after all, and I would have to grieve too.
Regardless, the ceremony had been, in my opinion, rather beautiful and respectful, it is what he deserved. After the funerals were over, I went over (after discussing it with my own parents) to his parents, and suggested we follow up the ceremony with a private session. Maybe go to a cafe, a restaurant, or a park (I didn’t feel like inviting myself over to their place), in order to share memories about him. I also insisted not to worry about money, that my parents had given me enough to cover a meal.
Somehow, they lost their composure, and thanked me before accepting the offer. Presumably, they hadn’t expected something like this from a child, but to me, this just made a lot of sense. Now would be the time to cherish our memories of him, and support each other through our grief. And so it was that we spent most of the evening at a local restaurant talking about Jonathan. We went through a ton of anecdotes, some classics that I’d often heard when going over to their place others I hadn’t really heard before, and was glad to get an opportunity to hear. It was rather bittersweet, a big mix of emotions, deep sorrow at the loss, a sprinkle of joy from some of the more silly anecdotes, sporadic laughter here and there, and a deep gratitude at having had him as a part of our lives.
Eventually, they realized I hadn’t discussed anything we’d done at the camp yet, which took me by surprise. That was right…why was that? I tried to remember, but a lot of it felt rather generic, didn’t feel special. Why was that? I had a ton of great memories from the camp, yet nothing special to share, despite us being best friends and both being there together? How could that possibly be? I awkwardly had to admit I was drawing a blank, how embarrassing. Still, the conversation had pivoted to the camp. They asked me whether he’d liked it there, to which I had to acquiesce. Of course, everyone loved the camp! But then they asked me more direct questions about him. Had he been behaving normally? Why could he possibly do anything so reckless? Why wouldn’t he get me to go with him? After all, we were so inseparable, it was almost unthinkable that he wouldn’t try to get me to accompany him!
And well…they were right! Why hadn’t he? That made no sense at all. If I’d decided to head out, of course I also would have dragged him along! What…how….why? I…I just couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t understand it. And until now, it hasn’t even been a question in my mind. But they were right. Things just didn’t add up. Regardless, we eventually went on to other topics, but by the end of the night, I felt like they were partially blaming me for his demise. And while it was true they had awakened some guilt inside of me, they had, more importantly, also been feeding my growing suspicions. Something was not right here, and I would have to get to the bottom of it. But for the time being, I’d opted to just keep it to myself.
In the upcoming days, I started to notice other unexpected things. I’d already noticed some bruises and soreness on the way back, but those are easily explained. It’s a kids’ summer camp, we’d been spending entire days just running around like fools, playing silly games, bumping into each other, falling to the ground, etc… I’d also gone fitter, had some muscles I didn’t remember having before, but once again, we were extremely active at the camp.
However, I had also acquired a few more scars than I would have expected, but also a particularly nasty one that I had no recollection of. Nor any idea how it could have come about. And it wasn’t really the kind of thing that could just come out of nowhere. How peculiar. For now, this only served as more ammunition to feed my suspicions.
One day, while watching an anime, I was reminded of a silly game the two of us used to play, while the other was away or otherwise distracted, we would hide a small note in the other’s shoe, hidden right under the insole. And somehow, my instinct told me I _had_ to check. Lo and behold, there it was, a note in his handwriting. Rather short and shocking: “Things not as seem. Check backpack. False Pocket. -J”
What on earth? Welp, I had a swelling of emotions, sadness at having lost him, once again, panic at the implications, and…curiosity. Something had definitely felt wrong all along, and I might finally have some answers. I immediately rushed over to my own backpack and looked everywhere. I could not for the life of me find any hidden false pocket, or any misplaced stitches. What…what was going on? A prank? A fake hint? A misleading hint to get off some else’s trace? I wracked my brain, and could not find any answer. But as advised, I slept on it. And by morning, I had an idea.
I headed over to my friend’s home, and asked his parents if the camp had given them his backpack, and if I could go check. I believed I’d forgotten something in it. I also apologized profusely about the situation. Luckily, they hadn’t emptied it yet, not wanting to disturb any of his things. They told me to go to his room, and left me to my own devices. I was obviously prepared, having brought with me a Swiss-army knife. I quietly emptied the bag and looked through every nook and cranny, trying to find either a fake pocket, or some sort of stitches. I did find what I was looking for, mostly because I heard a very faint crumpling sound. Yup, paper hidden in there! Finally, I found some stitches, definitely looked like my own handy-work. Looks like the time I’d spent learning to stitch had paid-off.
I quickly cut the stitches with my knife, checked inside, and found a few pieces of paper. Yup, a bunch of stuff written on it, I was impatient, but figured I should be careful still, so I stuffed the paper in my own bag, stuffed everything else back in my friend’s bag, and grabbed a random book from his shelf. Then I went back down, thanked them, showed them the book and claimed I unfortunately needed it for a class project, otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered them like this, and left.
Once home, I went to my bedroom, locked the door, and finally got to reading. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but somehow, this was not it. I wasn’t prepared for it. To start with, it was written in my own handwriting, and had my initial at the end. It read:
“If you’re reading this and this makes no sense, then it means our escape plan failed. But we have hopefully found the clues we left behind for ourself. Cutting myself was no pleasant feat and I hope it wasn’t in vain. We hopefully had enough backups, between two people, to trigger something. Plus, we should suspect something is fishy, and through discussing it amongst ourselves, find one of our clues, bringing us closer to this.
First of all, this camp is a sham. It is not a fun summer camp for children, it’s a child labor camp. They need us to work on some weird project of theirs. We don’t quite understand it, but we can confirm it’s no ride in the park! While here, we’re basically just slaves, forced to work day-in day-out.
So, the first big question, how is it that everyone only remembers great memories, how could such a terrible secret stay hidden? Well, if you’re reading this, the answer should be obvious at this point. They have technology to rewrite people’s memories. They dump you memories from the camp and replace them with more joyous and innocuous ones. No child is allowed to leave the camp with their genuine memories.
Obviously, they’ll also search all of our possessions, so there’s no trivial way to sneak out information. Similarly, they’ve confiscated most of our belongings. But luckily, it’s not like none of us has found a way to sneak in. So, we’ve devised a plan b, a way to know what happens here, if we somehow fail to escape. Hide information somewhere they’re unlikely to find, and leave breadcrumbs to find it back without our memories. All without arising too many suspicions.
Once we’ve secured this plan, we’ll move on to plan A, the escape. We’re not happy with our odds of success, but this place is pure torture, and we can’t tolerate anymore. We have to do something about it. I would say wish us success, but if you’re reading this for the ‘first time’, then it means we’ve already failed. In which case, now that you have the truth, you have to find a way to stop them.
-S”
Welp, here I was, equipped at last with the truth. A lot of things started making sense all of a sudden, and yet…what could I do with this? I was left all alone, Jonathan was gone. I doubt anyone would believe me or this piece of paper. They’re all say it was some weird cruel prank, especially the adults. Meanwhile, the kids all were happy and had their own falsified memories, why would they trust a single word on this paper… especially since it was written by my own hand. I was terrified, facing an oppressing enemy with tremendous resources, all alone in my corner. What could I possibly do. If I actually decided to go against them, what chances could I possibly have. I felt truly hopeless…and alone.
Was knowing the truth a mistake? Would it have been better to never know. Well, not like I have a choice anymore. Once you know, you just do, there’s really no going back. Unless…