Writer's Block
Bryan, Age 13, Logan, OH

Nathan sat in front of the blank computer screen, unable to think of a story for the crappy writing prompt his teacher had given him. The small clock in the corner of the monitor said 10:43 P.M., and if he didn't have this done by eighth period tomorrow, he'd definitely fail English. "You're still up!? Go to bed!" his mom shouted from the basement steps. "I'm sick of you being cranky in the morning. If you're not in bed in five minutes, I'm extending your grounding!"

Nathan looked at the clock. 3 A.M. He didn't feel THAT tired, and he had to get that project done. He quietly moved over to the door and opened it as quietly as he could. Quickly but silently, he went down the stairs, like a blind least he HOPED he was. Knocking over a pile of books didn't exactly reinforce that feeling though...

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" his mom materialized at the top of the stairs. If ever he were afraid she'd kill him, it was now. "Do you want me to fail English or not?" he moaned, knowing he couldn't win no matter what now. He was bad with arguments, and he was bad with homework; there was no way he'd EVER be ungrounded if things continued the way they were going.

It was 5 A.M. when Nathan finished the story. He hated it. Bad plot, bad dialogue, and the characters were even based on him and his friends! A kid that knew way too much, who never turned in his homework and therefore had an F in English, who got picked on at school by...well...everyone; but at least it was done. He quickly got ready for school, grabbed his book bag and ran to the bus.

Half way to school, he unzipped his book bag to read over his story. He wanted to see whether or not it was worth turning it in for the grade.

Math book...notebook...Nintendo...pencil box...journal full of random stories...that was all that was in it.

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