I write this not as a way of entertainment, but as a call for help. My name is Samuel O'Connor Salvia. From my name you can find my initials. From my initials you can create my message. S.O.S. Read my story and you will know why.

I will never forget the day I arrived at Camp Jamahari. I remember the feeling of my heart pounding against my chest as I stepped off the bus. I had never been to summer camp before, as I was only six years of age. My best friend, Jorgen van Villa, gave me a pat on the back. "Jorg," I said, "I'll be right back." I stepped into the washroom and exhaled all the eggs and bacon I had choked down this morning. I innocently left the room so no one would suspect me of committing the Exhaling of the Breakfast.

An hour later I was sitting on the grass waiting for the head councillor to finish his tedious lecture. Finally he finished and took a big cardboard box from a little shed beside the field. He put the box on the ground, and opened it with a flourish. He drew out a neon red shirt, which had the words 'Camp Jamahari, where you have fun, or else!' emblazoned on the chest. "Yo, bud!" the councillor yelled to me, "Take a shirt, y'all gonna need it."

He was right, as I was dripping with puke. I reluctantly donned the shirt, and Jorgen and I made our way to the main office to claim our cabin key. We had been given cabin #13, and Jorgen didn't like it at all.

I watched patiently as Jorgen frowned and made faces at the key. "C'mon!" I said, "It's just an unlucky number." Jorgen vigorously shook his head, as if he were trying to make it fall off. "Oh no," he said, "In my country, Velva, the number 13 means that terrible things will happen!"

"Whatever!" I exclaimed, "If any thing happens, you're safe with me." Jorgen hesitated, but followed me to the cabin.

Cabin #13 was obviously platinum, as it was made of maple logs which had been smoothed down perfectly and windows that sparkled in the evening sun. "See?" I said to Jorgen, "Not so bad, eh?" We entered the cabin, climbed into our cozy bunks, and tried to go to sleep. Jorgen conked out in less than 5 minutes, but I couldn't seem to do it. I lay there for only five minutes, but it seemed like five hours, or even five days.

I was starting to doze off, when a man dressed in a military uniform burst through the door. "Where's van Villa?" The man shouted, "He's in bed, kipping," I answered.

"Well, tell 'im that him and you 'ave been elected as Subject Choosers, so you pick what we do."

"Okay," I replied. The man left as I lay down and grinned as I entered the land of dreams.