So, I’m gonna put some effort into getting my blog up and running again. To start it off, here’s a story I wrote for my creative writing class. It still hasn’t been reviewed by the class, so it’ll probably change some more in the near future. In any case, here goes!
***
It took nearly two years of digging, and I’m not going to lie and say that it was easy. It wasn’t.
It really should have taken twice that time, truth be told, but we had fortune on our side. Kyle and I saved every penny of our lunch money for three weeks to purchase the supplies we would need: Two plastic shovels: one red, one green, each with a matching bucket, hard hats, a flashlight, and baseball cards to trade for souvenirs. We nearly starved ourselves, but it was worth it in the end. Our financing efforts paid off.
We started digging on a Saturday, in the sandy area of my backyard. Kyle and I raised our shovels above our heads in unison, and counted to three before plunging them as deep as we could into the sand. “China, here we come,” I said as I lifted the sand from the earth and stuffed it into my bucket. “Hope you’re ready!”
The first day was slow. We got through the sandy layer quickly enough, but were unprepared for how difficult digging through the soil would be. Kyle nearly broke his shovel, but we eventually got into the rhythm. After several hours, we had dug a hole nearly twenty feet deep. When we called it quits for dinner that night, two hundred cubic feet of dirt sat smugly in a mound atop my yard.
As strange as it may sound, things sped up from there. We became incredibly efficient earth-movers. The most difficult part of the project wasn’t the actual act of digging; that was easy, though admittedly very time consuming. It was the climbing that really got to us. Each time we filled a bucket, we had to climb to the surface and find somewhere to deposit our soil. As time passed, the task of climbing grew more and more arduous, and Kyle and I nearly decided to quit once, about forty miles in. We regrouped, though, and decided to press on.
By the fourth week, we were celebrities. Several local news stations latched onto the story first. I don’t think the reporters actually believed that what we were doing would work, but it made a story and helped fill what was otherwise a slow news day. By that time we were about thirty miles in. I remember being asked by a reporter a question that she thought would stump us and put a halt to our plans:
“Have you thought about what will happen when you reach the molten-core center of the earth?” she asked. “Have you looked into purchasing flame retardant suits?”
“Actually, we’ve put a lot of thought into the problem,” I said. Rigid in her scientific beliefs, she had missed the obvious logical solution. “Simply put, we plan to dig around it.”
The reporter smiled, thanked us for our time, and wished us good luck.
Though we did have to contend with those skeptical of the practicality of our venture, the media attention did serve some purpose. Somehow or another, several children in China heard about our endeavor, and decided that they’d like to meet us halfway. I still have the letter they sent us explaining themselves. What was remarkable to me was that it was written in perfect English:
Dear Kris Borland and Kyle Walter,
Our names are Xueying Xu and Qiushi Zhao. We are writing with regard to your attempt to dig to China. Though it may seem silly to you, a common fantasy of many Chinese children is to dig to New York. We’ve always been told that it was impossible, but seeing the progress you have made has inspired us to assist you in your endeavor. We understand that you have made substantial progress, and would therefore like to arrange a meeting approximately midway between America and China. We feel that an appropriate meeting place would therefore be approximately sixty miles below (read “beneath,” not “south of”) Tripoli, Libya. We will begin digging upon receipt of your reply, if you are interested.
Most sincerely,
Xueying Xu and Qiushi Zhao
Kyle and I were ecstatic. Assistance of this nature would cut the amount of work necessary by half, hardly an offer to be scoffed at. Immediately after receipt of the letter, I showed Kyle and we crafted a reply:
Xueying and Qiushi,
We are most delighted to have received your letter. We have dreamed of digging to China for many years. We too had to contend with those that thought our endeavor was impossible, but we very firmly feel that, with dedication, we will someday reach China. Our passageway has the potential to make the dreams of many millions of Chinese and American children come true. It is therefore with great excitement that we accept your offer. We will look forward to meeting like-hearted persons such as yourself under Libya.
Sincerely,
Kris Borland and Kyle Walter
Having found co-diggers in Xueying and Qiushi, we continued our earthmoving with greater enthusiasm than ever before.
After several months, once we had dug sixty miles into the earth, we took a right turn and headed for Libya. This was undoubtedly the most time consuming part of our journey. We had, by this time, invested in bigger shovels and buckets with which to work, but despite the utility of our equipment, the sixty mile climb up to my backyard was incredibly slow. Despite our initial reluctance to do so, we invited several more friends to join in our endeavor to speed the process. Kyle and I, being the most experienced earth-movers of our crew, took care of the digging. We left the task of returning to the surface and depositing the soil in unsuspecting neighbors’ yards to our recruits. All told, we recruited twelve other students to our cause, all of whom were incredibly dedicated, even in the face of discouragement and the monotony of our task.
After nearly twenty months of digging, we finally neared the realization of our goal. The media attention had died down nearly a year prior, and so we decided collectively that we should take some time off and attempt to regain the public recognition that we had lost. Because the Chinese crew (which, amazingly, had swelled to nearly forty members) was now a month behind us, we could afford to slow down slightly. Kyle and I crafted a press release together, and sent it to CNN, CBS, and NBC headquarters. We debated on whether or not to submit a release to FOX, but in the end decided that we didn’t want conservative pundits punditing on our endeavor. If the news caught, they would learn of it soon enough, anyway. Our strategy worked, and the national media stormed my backyard. My parents weren’t thrilled, but somehow they managed to hold their tongues when asked why they didn’t do something to prevent their child from attempting such an inane task. They always told me that I could do anything that I wanted to, and I love them for it.
For two more months, we dug, growing ever more excited about the meeting that was to occur with our Chinese friends. When the final week of digging arrived, our crew could barely contain ourselves. We threw a party before we commenced digging. Each of us consumed inordinate amounts of sugar and caffeine; we were all bubbling with excitement. I don’t believe that I’ve ever felt such a sugar-high since. It was amazing. Beautiful, even. And then we dug.
We worked that week with greater fervor than we ever had before. Despite the presence of a pesky reporter from CBS that asked probing questions, our bucket runners shimmied with remarkable skill, and Kyle and I dug with the passion of twenty-five gravediggers. Our hard work paid off: we met under Tripoli an entire day ahead of schedule. Xueying’s crew was actually about twenty feet higher than us, so their group had to dig down a tad to meet us, but overall, things went off without a hitch. When there were about two feet of dirt separating our parties, both groups started cheering. The dirt above us began to rumble, and each member of our parties went silent, cringing, hoping that the world wouldn’t collapse upon us. The rumbling slowly subsided, and after several more minutes of feverish digging, our groups finally saw one another. I’ll never forget the look on Xueying’s face. I can’t say that she was really smiling, but there was a definite grin on her face. The best way that I can describe it is as “smug,” only without the haughtiness that the word usually implies.
“Xueying, Qiushi. Nice to finally meet you,” said Kyle, attempting to suppress his grin. “I’m Kyle.”
“So we finally meet,” said Xueying. Though the corridor around us was dark, our flashlights illuminated each of our faces. “How has it been?”
“What? The trip? Arduous, nearly impossible, all but hellish at times,” said Kyle. “But I wouldn’t have done it any differently. Xueying, this is Kris.” Kyle patted my back and pulled me forward.
“Xueying, it’s a pleasure.” I said, offering my hand to Xueying.
She took it and we shook. I looked around at the children that composed Xueying and Qiushi’s group; each of them was covered in dirt, just as our group was. I imagined that I was probably equally dirty, but this, the moment that two years of toil had led up to, was no time to worry about such things. After introducing our digging crews to one another, our groups decided to part ways; our crews were each equally anxious to explore the new lands before them.
As we walked away, I listened to the conversations of Xueying’s crew. I could hear the sense of wonder and anticipation in each child’s voice. Small groups of them chatted with one another, speculating on the wonders that they would see in America. Every now and then, the last child in the progression would look back at me, smile, and wave. He was the dirtiest of the crew, and each time he waved at me, I nodded and waved back. Though I never got to see him as he climbed into my backyard, I suspect that his eyes grew wide as he wriggled his way through the small opening to the hole we had starting digging two years prior. “Wow,” I imagine him saying as he looked into the stars. “This is amazing!” In my mind, he pulled himself to his feet and embarked on a journey into the world that I had worked for two years to escape. And he thought it wonderful.
***
I think I’ll go through my pictures and pack up for the day.
