WRiting Contest #4

Laureate Category Winning SUbmissions

The Fake Grizzly
By Riley Tam
First Place, Laureate Category

It was a quiet, gloomy night on the potholed filled Highway 95. Pine trees bordered both sides of the road. The headlights of my old Toyota Corolla shined only about 10 feet in front of me. I drove in silence, except for the quiet hum of the engine. The neon green clock read 4:01 AM. Tired feelings overwhelmed me, I felt as if I was about to collapse on the wheel. I had just finished my night shift as a park ranger. I continued to drive, bouncing up and down from each pothole.

“bump…bump…BANG!”

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. Stupid potholes.

I pulled over to the edge of the road, and stepped out of the car with a small flashlight and can of pepper spray in hand. Brown bears were a definite threat. My front right tire had popped. When I walked towards the trunk to take out my spare, I shined my flashlight into the depths of the dark forest when I saw rustling within the bushes. I gripped my pepper spray tightly, until the rustling stopped. My heart began to race as I fumbled with the jack.

“It was just a deer, just a deer,” I said under my breath.

But then the rustling grew louder and louder, meaning the animal was becoming closer and closer. Chills crept down my spine. I shined the flashlight back into the forest, when I saw a large animal with brown fur in the midst of the leaves. I rushed to the car door by the driver's seat, but then my foot tripped over another pothole, twisting my ankle and cutting my knees in the process.

Out of a panic, I frantically crawled under my car, not realizing the pepper spray had dropped out of my hand. I was now defenseless. I watched as it menacingly stepped out of the forest when I realized that the animal was definitely not a bear.

It stood on two feet as if it was human, circling around my car, as if the car was its prey. It looked as if a bear and a gorilla had a child. Fur and height like a grizzly, but with the nasty face and stature of a gorilla. It shook the car a couple of times, grunting and snorting.

My whole body was shivering. I thought, “Please…please…just let me live.”

I spotted the pepper spray out of the corner of my eye. It sat just slightly in front of the headlights. Foolishly, I began to crawl, cautiously reaching out towards it.

“Clang!”

My skull hit the bumper. I groaned with pain, then quickly scrambled back underneath the car. The animal began to step towards the sound.

It slowly bent down, looking under the car. I froze, staring into its deep yellow eyes. It titled its head as if it was confused. My body was shaking, sweat dripping slowly down my forehead. Then after what felt like hours, it finally left the car alone, walking back into the forest.

I sighed with relief.

I had just spotted the sasquatch.

Carraway From a Foreseeable Future
By Tom Chen
Second Place, Laureate Category

(Scene: A grand party at Gatsby’s mansion. The music gently plays, and laughter ripples through the crowd, speaker stands near the edge, in a euphoric state. A champagne glass in hand, they watch Gatsby from a distance before stepping closer.)

I can tell by the way you carry yourself—the way you stand, the way you talk—that you have your eyes on something great. (pause) You know, I’ve met men like you before. Genius dreamers with eyes fixed on a horizon just out of grasp, It’s admirable, really. To have everything yet want more.

(Takes a slow sip of champagne, gesturing toward the dock in the distance.)

Here, take a look at that green light for me, flashing across the bay. What does it make you think of? A beacon of hope, perhaps a sign to keep chasing a dream.

(Turns back to Gatsby, studying him.)

But it seems to me that your smile doesn’t believe in you, Gatsby. (soft chuckle) This whole place—this grand illusion you’ve built shimmering in light and laughter, yet somehow... exclusively fragile. Do you ever stop and listen when the music fades? When the last champagne glass is emptied when the laughter drifts away, and you…. Alone…. left in the silence of your own creation?

(Steps forward, lowering their voice slightly.)

Don’t call me “old sport.” I’m not like them. Not one of those people dancing cluelessly, circling you like moths to a flame. They work up to you, praise you, pretend to know you, unwatched yet watched. Strangers in an abode unknown to them.

(A slight smile, and a shake of the head.)

Me? No, no. Don’t get me mistaken, James. I’m not here for anything.

(Raises glass slightly, almost as a toast, before looking past Gatsby, toward the party.)

I am simply—within and without.

(A pause. The music starts again. The speaker turns, fading into the crowd as Gatsby remains, staring toward the green light.)

Personification of Perfection
By James Zhang
Third Place, Laureate Category

(The student is tired but determined to perfect their project in every aspect. They look at themselves in the mirror and hear a voice)

Perfection (soft, soothing):

Look at you working hard on your schoolwork. Oh, how long have you been chasing me? Every assignment, every project, every exam - you’re getting closer to me. You’re smart, you know your effort means something. Just one more project and you’ll be perfect. When you reach me, you’ll be everything you’ve ever dreamed of. You’ll have it all.

Perfection (slightly colder):

You think you're able to rest after you achieve me..? Rest is for the weak, for those who settle for mediocrity. There’s more to do, more to chase and more to improve on. Don’t ever stop striving for perfection or else you’ll be like the rest of them. Students who do the bare minimum. Who love to be lazy. Who are just plain average.

Perfection (cold):

You still don’t understand do you? I am a constant chase and I’ll always be out of reach. You think that one more ‘A’ will fulfill you and that I will reward you, but there is no finish line, no reward and I certainly won’t give you any peace.

Perfection (harsh):

I’m the one that keeps you awake at night, the one that drives you to exhaustion, the one that tells you you’re never good enough. You think you’re getting closer, but I only push you farther. Further away from yourself. You think you’re so intelligent while you’re just like a moth. So dazzled and bewildered by my light. You chase me, drawn to my light, believing that if you just get close enough, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

You’re nothing but a machine, endless striving, never a moment to breathe. You won’t find me, not in your grades, not in your accolades. And when you crash, I’ll still be there, demanding more. I always will be.

Perfection (Scoffing):

You could stop. You could let go, live without me. But can you? Can you accept that you might never reach me? Can you settle for mediocrity? You’re just like the others who think they can stop pursuing me but they always come crawling back. Always.

(The student, in a daze, grabs a lamp from their desk and smashes the mirror! The voice of perfection disappears.)