They do, they are live creatures sometimes defying my will and striving towards different endings than I had planned. They fly off completely uninfluenced by the directions I give them, wanting to fly free, no matter how I feel about the way they are heading. I am but a tool for the stories to find their way out unto the “real” world. New characters, creatures and natural elements invented by the story itself, an inhabitant of my mind. Sometimes hiding, sometimes forcing it’s presence upon me, as if it indeed was a separate entity.

Maybe it is human nature to create beings within our minds that reminds us of ourselves, perhaps too much so. However, when I proceed to read the entirety of the stories after they are finished, I can see that they do make sense, at least for the most part. So perhaps it is not the stories but rather myself that subconsciously know what will turn out better, and urge myself to do so or even, a combination of the two.

In seeking wisdom thou art wise; in imagining that thou hast attained it – thou art a fool.
Lord Chesterfield