Adam Peterson
I must begin with an apology for the delay in explaining why your child did not return from this year's camp.
My duties as director simply overwhelmed me this summer, and, as such, I must also apologize for this form letter. I will do my best to cover each particular child, though if yours is not mentioned specifically, assume their disappearance was of the typical sort.
We last saw Jordan—no doubt enraptured by the majesty and sublimity of our grounds—rowing toward the sunset. He would have found no better outcome had he actually reached the sun, of course, and I don't mind mentioning this tragedy cost us our only canoe.
Lauren—it's not impossible her rocket reached the moon though this would subvert several fundamental laws of physics. Here at camp, we believe such knowledge is the pillar upon which civilizations rise, though perhaps you're a bit of a romantic.
I, for one, have seen too many terrible things befall your children to believe in miracles, but to each their own.
In any case, lest you view these as escape attempts, I must report that most of the unavoidable accidents that befell us this summer occurred right here in the aforementioned majesty and sublimity.
Neal thought glitter superior to pudding. Marnie and Phyllis settled their differences in the Resolution Pit. Jonathan simply loved too hard.
Most notably, I must commend Marguerite who died defending the camp from a bear. Carl brought the beast and thus accepted the camp executioner's justice, but the bear, you'll be pleased to know, we placed with an animal sanctuary.
More good news! We located Susan atop the observatory staring the wrong way through the telescope and hoping to see the Devil. If you are the parents or guardians of Susan, you are receiving this note in error.
Let me now note—
If 75% is a high enough mark to pass the camp director's exam, why should it be such an unsatisfactory percentage of campers returned? Granted, we did not hit that figure this summer, but should you choose to use the enclosed envelope to donate, we are certain we'll soon come close.
Because majesty and sublimity our camp has, but transcendence—and canoes—we need. And before you accuse me of a sudden flight to romanticism, let me point out that I quite literally mean transcendence of the corporeal form. Even with an obsolete reactor, Herr Doctor has successfully freed Robert from his.
Congratulations to what was Robert and let it be a reminder that your child need not have settled for death.
Let me end by assuring you—
Your child is in a better place.
Not better than here at camp—surrounded as we are by the majesty, drowning in the sublimity—but better than most places a soul ends up.
The Truth—
You'd do anything to be one of the children in this letter than one of the adults reading it.