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Scott P Casey

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A Little History: At the end of the year 2012 I somehow came to a decision that I needed to change who I am. I had an opportunity to take months thinking about things and reprogramming my mind; we are our thoughts, our thoughts make our lives.

After a few months I started thinking about writing again and this eventually led to the beginning of this first story, based on an exchange of a few emails, in April of 2013. At that point in time I had no idea that it would lead to this overall project 3 1/2 years later. I just followed a path that a lot of times I struggled to understand.

Goal: To create a non-profit organization that I will be in charge of and responsible for that will bring attention to and donations to non-profit organizations in my local area; eastern Tennessee.

Keeping this foused on local non-profit organizations is something that is important to me as I would enjoy personally interacting with them to connect with them and better understand what they are experiencing as well learning more about myself. This will also enable me to ensure that the money given to me and flowing through me to them is being put to good use.

Concept: A little twist to a common practice, "There is always the idea of giving people an incentive to donate money and I somehow came up with a way to take this a step further. I said why not give stories to people for free only asking that if you really like a story, please share it with someone and if you really, really like a story, please come back and donate just $5.00."

Thank you, Scott P. Casey

P. S. Why do I care? I just do. Sometimes I want to turn it off but not only is that difficult but, if I think about that, it feels like I am doing something wrong. (It's in the story.)

Excerpt From 'Drops of Rain' …

What am I running to?

Or from?

I ran from the open field and into an alley that was lined by sad and broken down abandoned brick buildings my path always twisting and turning through a rain so thick and heavy with each drop carrying it's own personal message too many for me to understand and I don't have time to listen I'm too busy running.

The clouds are low hiding both the moon's light and someone above me who is sifting ash to soot then to an even finer dust the dregs, the least valuable part of anything, that falls not upon me but into me; creating a darkness not balanced by light.

I should be able blend right in but I don't trust that. I still feel out in the open; that we can be seen or heard at any moment at any time.

And I don't feel like being hunted…


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