Saving Smith Island
Harrisonburg, VA
2020, Senior, Creative Writing
Scene 1
Evening. The present. A pier off of Smith Island, Maryland. Short, raised wooden walkways lined by short, wooden columns on either side of the stage lead to a spacious wooden platform in the middle.
Offstage fans can make blue fabric covering the remainder of the stage ripple. Enter ABIGAIL, 20s, from stage left. She is casually dressed with her hair in a bun. Holding a suitcase, she runs to the middle of the pier excitedly.
ABIGAIL
Mom, Dad! I’m home!
Enter JACOB, 50s, her father, from stage right. He wears fisherman’s work clothes.
JACOB
Abigail, my sweet daughter!
They embrace. Enter DAVID, 18, ABIGAIL’s younger brother, dressed like his father. JACOB steps away.
JACOB
David, help your sister with her bag.
(To ABIGAIL:)
Your mother’s already asleep. She’ll be thrilled to see you in the morning. DAVID takes ABIGAIL’s suitcase. Exit JACOB.
DAVID
It’s good to see you, Abigail.
ABIGAIL
It’s good to be back.
(She lets her hair down and surveys the audience. Nostalgically:)
Smith Island… I’ve missed you.
(DAVID chuckles. To DAVID:)
What’s the matter?
DAVID
Oh, it’s just our differences. You’re so glad to come home, and I’m… well… (He sets down the suitcase. Staring beyond the audience:)
I’m thinking of leaving.
ABIGAIL
(Surprised:)
Leaving… ? I don’t understand…
DAVID
(Sarcastically:)
Of course, you wouldn’t… running off to the mainland by yourself…
ABIGAIL
But you always wanted to stay and continue Dad’s crabbing business. You… haven’t told him, have you?
DAVID
(Lowering his eyes:)
No… It’s just… this island is a dying spirit.
ABIGAIL
(Quietly:)
What?
DAVID
The water is rising, slowly but surely, and waves wash away the shores, piece by piece. The crab traps are emptier every year… I know you’ve noticed. I know everyone here has. (ABIGAIL looks away.)
The money will be gone soon. I don’t want to, but if I can just get a job on the mainland to support Mom and Dad… I mean, you’ve already left the island. We thought you’d never return. It’s been five years…
ABIGAIL
It’s not everything I imagined out on the mainland. Sure, there’s more opportunity in the cities. But no one remembers Smith Island. Except for me.
(To the audience:)
Sometimes, I feel… like I only left to run away from this island’s problems. Everyone else seems to forget them—I thought I could, too. But it’s always in the back of my mind. (To DAVID:)
You’re not the first to notice this island’s issues… Maybe leaving was just my way to escape it all. I feel so… selfish. You’re doing it for Mom and Dad, but… I was just doing it for myself.
I’ve counted the days since I left. It took so long to get the courage to return. No one would even speak to me on my last day here. I was afraid you never would again.
DAVID
I guess you gave up on Smith Island, but… that day, it felt like you gave up on us, too.
ABIGAIL
I would never.
DAVID
(Under his breath:)
Well, at least you got off of this dump…
ABIGAIL
How can you say that? [beat] You’d fit right in on the mainland. No one cares, David, no one! Only we really understand the island’s importance, the animals and habitats and families.
(Pointing across the water:)
Everyone else turns their head because they don’t realize what we live through every single day! And now you just want to run away, too…?
(Quieter:)
Do you know what I had to leave that day? Not just you or Mom or Dad. My entire childhood. I remember my last boat trip by the old neighborhoods and marshes and the church… across the water, I could see Grandma’s grave.
The lights dim. The blue fabric ripples. Enter
YOUNG ABIGAIL, 18, in a small rowboat moving across the stage in front of the pier. A spotlight focuses on her. She wears shorts and a loose t-shirt. The fabric stills. The boat stops in the middle of the stage.
YOUNG ABIGAIL
(To the audience:)
I’m leaving home, Grandma, maybe forever. [beat] I just—
(Tearfully, louder:)
I don’t know what to do. I look around and I see… the island drifting away from us. And… instead of staying, I just want to run away! Does that make me selfish, Grandma?
(Removing a necklace from her pocket:)
I still have your necklace. I never lost it. [beat] I’m… scared for us and the island. Just… tell me what I should do! Just tell me…
(She sobs, then swallows, lifting her head and putting on the necklace. Scanning the audience, tearfully:)
Goodbye, sunsets and salty breeze. Goodbye, pelicans and pomegranate trees and old fishing boats. Goodbye, summer nights and island waves and midnight stars. Goodbye, Mom, Dad, and David.
(Holding the necklace:)
Goodbye, Grandma.
The boat continues along the rippling water. Exit YOUNG ABIGAIL. The lights brighten, revealing ABIGAIL and DAVID. Night has fallen, and stars speckle the sky.
ABIGAIL
(Tearfully:)
I made a promise that day, to Grandma, never to let another one of us be forced to leave our home. And for you to want to leave now… David, it breaks my heart. Our generation can’t abandon our home. Not now, not ever. Think about Grandma—
DAVID
(Upset:)
Grandma isn’t here anymore! She doesn’t know what’s happening to the island now! (Quieter:)
I bet she didn’t even know about climate change. I bet she never saw it coming.
ABIGAIL
(Murmuring:)
Yes, she did.
(DAVID stares challengingly.)
I know you don’t remember much of her, but I do. She knew. She saw the crabs disappearing and waters changing. Whenever she watched the sunset from the docks, there was something in her eyes… fear.
(To the audience, tearfully:)
During her last day, she called for me. She seemed so frail, yet so alive. Her eyes were so happy.
(She takes a deep breath.)
And she whispered her last words to me: “Hope. Hold on to hope.”
(To DAVID:)
We can’t leave, David. We can’t run. We have to follow our hope.
DAVID
(Quietly:)
Hope? Hope isn’t enough. I can hope that someday, the waves will be calmer. I can hope that the crab traps will be as full as ten years ago. I can hope that Grandma will come knocking on our door tomorrow.
(Shaking his head.)
It doesn’t mean anything will change. Hope is nothing by itself. [beat] Sorry, Abby.
ABIGAIL
No, you’re right. I… I quit my job on the mainland. I haven’t told anyone else. I want to move back home.
(DAVID stares in surprise. She chuckles.)
I have this dream, David. I want to teach kids from the mainland about the island. I want them to know, to care. I don’t want to run away anymore. I don’t want anyone else to, either. I want to spend tomorrow and every day after saving Smith Island. And… I want you to save it with me. It’s okay if you don’t, but… kids could understand our family’s life, and you could take them crabbing, and—
DAVID
(He exhales.)
Let’s do it. We can’t just hope anymore. We owe it to Grandma.
ABIGAIL
(Grinning:)
Tomorrow, then.
(She sighs. To the audience:)
Tomorrow… a new future.
The sun rises in the background, silhouetting the scene. ABIGAIL and DAVID watch silently.
ABIGAIL
The sunrise never looked so bright.
DAVID
(Chuckling:)
C’mon, Abby. Mom and Dad are waiting inside.
ABIGAIL and DAVID linger, then exit with the suitcase. Curtain.
Reflection
During a field trip to Smith Island, Maryland, I grasped the importance of the island’s marsh ecosystem and its residents’ experiences. I met people who faced the direct effects of the climate crisis on the ocean each day. I became determined to show others that their decisions had a direct impact on often-overlooked communities like Smith Island. My writing portrays a true experience; real people like those in my play have been forced to leave Smith Island because of climate change. Rising water temperatures have caused scarcity and economic strain for fishermen. This forces residents to abandon their homes for jobs on the mainland to survive. I decided to use an optimistic, authentic perspective to inspire hope as well as action. Gratitude for my experience on Smith Island prompted me to pay forward the kindness of island residents by inspiring awareness with my play. I also committed to spreading awareness in my community, using clean energy, eating locally, and never forgetting the importance of communities like Smith Island. My love of theatre inspired me to write a play. I added a unique set and lighting effects to make my play come to life. Ultimately, my writing aims to show an eye-awakening narrative while preserving the integrity of Smith Island’s residents. I have learned that more people are becoming educated about climate change each day. Data about climate change is increasingly widespread, and I am hopeful for the preservation of ecosystems and communities like Smith Island for generations to come.