Stories overflow your own hand. No more, no less.
There is nothing you can do, or your characters can do, for avoiding the End.
Stories have a strange living sense. They survive even when you do not want them to live or to be written. They stay there, inside, deeper in your soul, pushing, until you can not resist anymore.
Stories fight for being written.
Words are like kind illness, and they play the same dark game that stories do. They stay in your mind,until they can be free in a blank screen. If you do not do so, they attack you, hunt you down, in every simple moment of your life. While you are sleeping, eating, thinking.
They must to be written. There is no option for you.
You can not kill words. But they can kill you.
That is why you should write. That is why I write.