The Great Escape || a.i. *completed & editing*

~0.1

I sighed, once again with writers block. I knew I had to come up with something if I ever wanted to pursue this dream, but for some reason my mind would completely empty itself every time I sat in front of the blank page.

I've always wanted to be a writer. Ever since I was very young, I've had some kind of talent. Everyone, my mom, my dad, my older brother Sam, my teachers, everyone saw my talent. I was writing at a third grade level in kindergarten because my brother taught me how to read and write when I was 4 years old.

Ever since I picked up a pen and started writing stories, I knew I wanted to be a writer. In middle school, I wrote poems and entered the talent show and read them. I always made it to the finals, and my 7th grade year, I actually won the talent show. In high school, I wrote a school newspaper that everyone loved.

The only problem with everything was despite my talent, everyone thought I was some kind of stuck up snob because my parents have a lot of money and I live in a nice house and wear nice clothes. I guess everyone thought I was too good for them, so I never made any friends. It was always just by myself. The only friends I ever had were a working pen, journal and imagination.

My senior year, I wrote an article for a magazine and it got published. It was the first thing I actually got professionally published and my mom and dad were so proud of me. That's when I knew that's what I was going to pursue.

So the summer after my senior year of high school I spent writing.

And here I am, nothing to write.

I had so many ideas for stories I was going to write. I had so many fresh and original ideas and I was going to write and publish into stories, yet somehow my mind is blank, along with the page in front of me.

I stared out the window at the trees. A little blue songbird landed on a branch and started chirping. I smiled at it, admiring it's beauty. It flew off, leaving a shaky branch and silence. Somehow I felt like that was me. Chirping with ideas, then when it comes down to business, in the birds case someone noticing it, it has nothing to sing so it flew off.

I hope I don't end up flying away.

~~~

I walked downstairs, finally giving up trying to come up with an idea. I walked into the kitchen and pulled a carrot out of the fridge, rinsing it off to eat.

My mom walked in. "Sarah?"

"Yeah mom?" I asked.

"I was just wondering why you're not working on your story? You said you had so many ideas," she said.

"I did... Do... I think," I said. "Writers block."

She hugged me. "I'm sorry. You'll come up with something soon enough."

"I need inspiration, mom," I said quietly, making sure my dad couldn't hear in case he was in the other room.

"I know, honey," she said, rubbing my shoulder. "I'm trying to convince your father to let you go out more. He just loves you so much and doesn't want anything happening to you."

"Couldn't Sam take me out?" I asked. "People take one look at him and know not to mess with me."

"I'm trying to make him see that," she said. "Just give me a little more time."

"Okay," I said, finally taking a bite of the carrot I'd gotten out of the drawer.

"Well I'm gonna go be depressed," I said. "In my room, alone."

My mom looked at me sympathetically. "I hope you cure your writer's block soon."

"Yeah," I mumbled and trudged back upstairs.

I collapsed on my bed, letting out a sigh and staring at the ceiling.

Dread took over my body as I realized maybe I was going to turn out to be the little songbird after all.

I heard a knock on the door downstairs about 20 minutes later.

"Sarah, can you get that?" My mom called. "I've got my hands full right now."

"Yeah," I called back, walking downstairs and opening the door. A man stood, I'm assuming for business with my dad.

"Yes?" I said.

"I'm Mr. Irwin," he said. "I was just going to talk to your father about dinner plans we made."

"He's a little busy right now," I said. "If you come back in like an hour he'll be available."

"It's kind of urgent," he said. "I need details about it in a half hour at a meeting I have to be at."

"Well I'm sure he'll understand then," I said, stepping aside. "Come on in, I'll go get him."

Mr. Irwin came inside and I walked to my dad's office and knocked lightly on the open door.

"Dad?" I said. He turned away from his work to look at me.

"Yes Sarah?"

"A man named Mr. Irwin is here, he said he needs to talk to you about dinner plans or something. He said it's urgent."

"Oh yes," he said, seeming to shuffle his papers around. "I'll be down in a minute."

I walked back downstairs to Mr. Irwin who was looking at pictures of Sam and I from when we were younger.

"He's going to be down in a minute," I said to him, walking to sit down on the couch.

My dad came downstairs a moment later, and began talking to him about something and I zoned out, then listened to a small section of their conversation.

"You don't mind my son coming?" He asked.

"Not at all," my dad replied. "How old is he again?"

"He's turning 19 in a few months," he said.

"So he's pretty much the same age as Sarah," my dad said. "Maybe they could be friends. I'm sure he'd get along great with Sam."

A boy? Since when was my father interested in me being friends with a boy?

"Well thank you for coming," my dad said and they said their goodbyes before Mr. Irwin left.

"They're our new neighbors," my dad said to me. "The Irwin's. Their oldest son is about your age and they're coming over for dinner tonight."

"Oh, okay," I said. "Well... I'm excited to meet their son. Maybe I'll make a friend for once."

"Cheer up," my dad said. "All those kids didn't know what they were missing."

My dad pulled me into a hug. I knew he was trying to make me feel better but it's hard when you've never had any real friends.

"I'm gonna go back to my room," I said, going back upstairs to dread another kid not liking me once again.