"Dammit! Why can't I get it as I want it to." She cursed, her words being more of a statement then a question.

Scratching her messy hair while staring blankly at the empty page and the newly bought pen infront of her, she felt dejected. Looking closely the pen seemed to mock her, daring her to write something, anything at the very least.

But, alas! The words in her vocabulary, the story that formed in her mind and all the ideas she could imagine dissipated before she could write it down. It slipped away, like sand passing through her open fingers.

In the end her ambition to become an author was no match compared to her inability to write. It seemed like talent had skipped her when it was handed out, leaving not a speck of ability in her.

Tired, she glanced around her room, the old fiction she wrote, her memo where she wrote her ideas, then her attention went to a lonely bookshelf slowly reading the titles of all the books written by her favorite authors lined neatly.

To Remi, those books were not just stacks of paper with words imprinted on them. It was a tale woven beautifully, it was a plane where words danced with the characters in the Hall of her memories. It was a whole new place to her, a world that exists and the common dream that millions of people share with her.

And, she too longed to do the same, to create worlds and characters that would live forever in the minds of her readers. But everytime she tried to write, every word she wrote fell flat. Even though she loved writing and the process involved, she felt disheartened when she realised no matter what she did she couldn't improve.

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"Maybe, it's not ment for me." She murmured, before being pulled back into reality by the buzzing of her phone. It was a message from her friend, Lily.

[Hey Remi! Are you coming to the club meeting today? >⁠.⁠< ]

Remi sighed. The Writing Club. It was supposed to be a place where she could hone her skills and learn from others, but instead it showed how mediocre her skills were in comparison to others. Lily, who just joined after me to skip the extracurriculum, and infact doesn't even care about writing, improved drastically in a short period of time, while Remi, let's call her average.

Still she couldn't bring herself to skip because she needed all the help she could get.

"I really wished I was a cloud." Sighed Remi resentfully, while she packed her notebook. Heading out the door with a grumble.

————————————

:Two years ago:

:Year 1 of joining the Writing Club:

A girl around the age of 11, sat crouched on her desk scribbling words with her messy handwriting. Her face flushed red and her lips curved up as she wrote down words after words, she was no more in this contemporary world, but in a journey. An epic adventure with the characters she created, and finally she stopped at "The End".

"Mom, look at the story I wrote. Can you read it to me?" The little girl shouted, her face full of anticipation.

"Yes sweetie, where is it?" Her mom replied with a big smile.

"It's in my notebook."

"Okay, let's read it together."

Her whole childhood, she was praised for her mastery of the art of writing.

Her relatives always admired her creativity and imagination while her classmates admired her grammar and vocabulary. Seeing the environment she grew up in, it was just a fleeting moment in time before she would become a great writer.