Creative Non-Fiction

It was June of 2010 when my family and I unloaded the last of our boxes and left what

had been our home for many years: Spartanburg, South Carolina and headed towards our new

home in Texas. I can still picture my old room, the car posters I had hung on my wall, the

Christmas lights that spanned the outline of the ceiling, and the bookshelf which no matter how

much I cleaned, always seemed to be in a clutter. As I said my final goodbye to the house, I got

into the backseat of our SUV, packed to the brim to the point where my father struggled to see

out the rear-view mirror. After our merge onto I-20 West, I reached into the box, tightly fit into

space in front of my seat, and pulled out The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne.

The car remained silent, as my mother fell asleep in the passenger seat, exhausted from

the extensive packing we had done the previous week. My father deeply focused on the road. My

sister sat next to me, certainly contemplating the same things I was: how would this new place

be? Would we like where we were going? Is there a chance that we might come back? Looking

back on it now, I realize there was clearly no scenario in which my father would hastily turn the

car around and we would start unpacking back in Spartanburg. 12-year-old me did not realize

this, and he clung to the hope that we would return sooner rather than later. I opened my new

book, having never heard of Jules Verne at the time, and began to read.

The cover of the book itself appealed to me: a hot air balloon with people clinging to the

side as a volcano erupted in the dark background, how much more interesting could a book cover

get? As I read of the tales of the five people, who it seemed, Verne purposely created to have

contrasting attributes as on paper they seemed very different. However, each one possessed a

skill that seemed instrumental to the survival on the island; most prominently that of Cyrus

Harding, the engineer and of course his ever faithful companion, Neb. The ingenuity, endurance,
perseverance, and patience that must have been required of these five men was immense as it

seemed each new day brought many challenges. The determination they had that their trusty

engineer was out there, as they scoured aimlessly on an uncharted island looking for him, was

something else.

As my family and I stopped at our ever-trustworthy travel lunch destination, Subway, I

began to wonder what those five men and myself had in common. Both would soon find

themselves in a strange place that they did not recognize, both would face challenges

acclimating, and both would have to compromise. Clearly, our situations were different, I was

not facing life or death problems. But, to a 12-year-old in a new place, it may as well have been

the same thing. The thought of starting over and leaving everything you had known for so many

years behind is nerve-racking on its own, but add to it being stranded on an island with no

supplies, food, or water and it quickly becomes something terrifying. Hundreds of miles later, as

we were crossing a bridge in Louisiana, and the night fell bringing with it the dimming sky,

filled with myriads of colors I had scarcely seen in sunsets in South Carolina. My father, weary

from driving all day, hastily took an exit which he saw had a hotel, and pulled into the parking

lot. I imagine he was extremely exhausted because when we entered the room he seemed almost

immediately asleep. As for the rest of us, we sat there talking about what life would look like

once we got there, what would the heat be like during the oncoming summer period, what would

the people be like? All questions that would only be answered with time.

The next day, after only a few hours of driving, we arrived at our new home. A small

house at the end of the cul-de-sac located in a quiet neighborhood in a midsize town. I felt as

though I was one of the five castaways that arrived on that mysterious island as I explored the

house and the neighborhood. My father took my sister and I to show us where our new school
would be and I could never have imagined myself going there. The center of the campus was the

massive football field, which was surrounded by other buildings. The tennis courts were on the

far right of the entrance, the baseball fields to the left, and the main building in the back. That

summer, my family spent lots of time together, since we were all new here and did not know

many people. My mother would take my sister and I bowling, swimming, to the library, and

occasionally to play tennis. And day by day, with the scorching sun beating on our backs, the

summer came to an end and school began.

After reading The Mysterious Island, I read other Verne novels, such as 20 Leagues

Under the Sea and Journey to the Center of the Earth. However, none resonated quite as much

with me as The Mysterious Island did. Maybe the journey that I took would have its challenges,

and it would be hard. But, maybe it would teach me something, maybe just as how Cyrus thrived

in their situation and used his engineering experience to make the most of their situation, I could

similarly make the most of my own. With that mentality, I got out of my mom’s car at the drop

off zone, grabbed my backpack, and walked through the double-doors to begin my own

adventure.