Gris Digital Photograph
Lenny Jimenez Class of 2015
The Catfish Natalie Casal Class of 2017
Third Place Literature
The rainclouds press down like the roof of a cave. Water drops plop on the dock and my arms. The matted grass lies flat. The trees bow to the gusty wind. It smells like sweat, fish, and earth. The dock wearily creaks, meeting my feet. The dock’s surface is cracked and lined like leather. Drops patter and plink into puddles on the splintered wood. The fish food bobs in the murky gray lake. The rain breaks the mirror of the water. Angular twigs jut out of the water like skeletons. Trees huddle over the water, protecting it. Their branches trail in the lake like fingers testing the water. Slippery shadows slide under the surface, carefully coming closer. Sneaky eyes peer just over the water. Mouths gape like black tunnels, slowly surfacing to get their meal. They are whiskered, cranky old men. Their amber eyes stare blankly. Their skin is a glossy gray. They look balefully at me, then submerge into the mud, dirt, and rain.
6