The two blog story posts I’ve posted in the last week:  Love doesn’t die just because she did and The Dimming of Hope have been writing exercises for me.  I have taken unique random scenes that have  given me second thoughts during my day, and created a story with a point out of the picture in my mind.  The former story was created during a rainstorm I drove through while passing a house.  The house had a small window at the top, and I wondered out loud if anyone was currently gazing at me through it.    The latter story I happened upon when I was pumping gas at a Mobil with my wife Carie.

Like M. Night Shyamalan, I placed myself in parts of the story for no apparent reason.

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