Diary Pages and Ink Pens

1

Bill groaned as he scrapped yet another page of writing. He was suffering through a serious wave of writers' block and he couldn't get past it. The words just wouldn't come to him as they had just a few weeks ago. He pushed himself away from the desk and flopped down on his bed, giving up temporarily. The house seemed unusually silent as he laid there staring at the painted ceiling, he noticed every dent, and bump in the pattern as he kept his eyes up. 

The silence was broken by a pitter-patter of steps leading to Bill's door as it swung open to a bright-eyed little boy. His brother, Georgie, held a new Lego creation in his small hands as he ran up to Bill with it. It looked like a boat, almost like the paper one he'd made Georgie. The small boy looked so proud of the multicolored boat he held up. 

"Billy! Billy look I made a boat! Isn't she pretty!" He giggled and handed it off to Bill. 

He smiled as he inspected the boat and nodded, "Sh-she is beautiful Georgie." There was a bittersweet feeling that corresponded with paper boats between the brothers. Georgie had gone out to play with the paper boat they had made in the rain, but he went missing for a few hours. Luckily they had found Georgie, only with mild injuries and shaken up. Never again would Bill let him go alone and risk losing him. He loved his brother so much. 

His thoughts were interrupted by their mother telling them to come down for dinner. Bill let the boat down gently and got up walking with Georgie to get dinner. The meal was typical and nothing eventful had occurred while they all sat around the table. Bill's mind wandered trying to rekindle his writing flow but still his the wall that blocked it. 

"Bill, are you ok honey?" Mrs. Denbrough asked softly with a smile.

He nodded looking up, "Yeah juh-just wr-writers block," he mumbled out. 

"Oh, well, I hear that keeping a diary or journal can help with that," She said and excused herself going to get something from the counter. She retrieved the hardcover journal and walked back over to the table holding it out to Bill. He took it from her hand and flipped through the blank white pages that smelled of new book. 

"That y-you mom," he smiled as he set it by his chair to avoid staining the new book as he finished his homemade meal. 

That night as Bill prepared himself for bed he decided to give writing in the journal a try. he just had to write about his day or something like that. Nothing that needed real creative energy just enough to get it on paper. He picked up his pen and started to write without much thought or organization.

dear diary i guess,

well, today i faced another gruesome day of writers' block. it's killing me to not be able to write, it's the only true way to get what i feel out to the world. well, that's not true, georgie is there too. this damned stutter will be my end.
i also planned a meet up with eddie and trashmouth for tomorrow, the losers y'know. those two seem to be in love with each other... its... comforting.... i wish i could just accept that i might be a fruit. 
well enough rambling for the evening, i'll write more after the day tomorrow. 

Bill- august 9, 1991

With that Bill set the book to the side and laid his head down on the pillow slowly starting to drift off to a warm and comforting sleep. He felt lighter after writing the rambling feelings in his head, some of the wall fell apart letting the flow start up again.