Revolutions

102 - Teqosa

Author's Note: Holy smokes. I've made it a whole year.

Being a writer, you'd think I would be using exclamation points, with this being an exciting milestone and all. I think I'm too stunned to be excited. But also, if I'm being honest, after making it to the six-month mark, I kind of expected to get here.

I wrote six months ago how I was finding myself getting excited about writing every morning. Fortunately, that is still true. What I find fascinating, though, is that my excitement about Revolutions is different now. Where I was once enthusiastic about writing, now I'm excited about seeing where the story is going next. This will be a bit "inside baseball", but I've got the entire story arc mapped out. I know where this is going. I know how it will end. Except... I don't know how I'm going to get there.

I mean, I kind of do. Of course, I do. But the characters surprise me. You see, I've gotten into this deal where I start to write what my character thinks, feels, does... and then, after they react to the story, my outline suddenly doesn't feel right. It morphs, adapts, changes, all because my character simply wouldn't do what I thought they'd do. It's opened up some interesting dynamics with my writing, and I feel myself growing with each character, with each chapter. It's one of the most exciting aspects to writing _Revolutions_ for which I'm grateful.

This project has come with its limits, though. For one, I've **only** written within the world of Pachil this entire time. There have been moments where I would've loved to write anything else. There have been opportunities to write short stories or develop an RPG, for example. But my backlog of chapters has gotten diminished, and my self-imposed rule to maintain it has made it difficult to take on other projects. Perhaps if I regained my buffer, I could work on more. Maybe someday.

Shop talk aside, I'm elated (and relieved) to still want to keep this story going, to see it through to the end. I'm still writing a story *I* enjoy, of course, but what's been the biggest encouragement is seeing dozens, and hundreds, start to find my work and share it—people are reading this when all I meant to do was primarily write for myself. That's one of the rare wonderful things about the internet: when it's good, it can be an amazing way to connect with so many people you wouldn't have otherwise.

Where this project will take me, who knows. All I know is that I'm grateful you've come along for the journey, and I'm excited to travel it with you!

- P

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It would be easy. Just step, then kick out. She would plummet into the abyss. One problem gone.

I look down upon Síqalat, my leather boot resting on top of her whitening knuckles that strain to keep her from falling. I think Upachu calls out to me, but I can't be certain; muffled sounds that could be from someone shouting is barely discernible to my ears. All I can focus on is the empty, black void behind her, beneath her, surrounding her. Her feet dangle, swaying in the emptiness.

Just one step, I think to myself, kick out, and then she'll be gone.

It's her eyes that make me change my mind. I expect her to show fear, or alarm, or anger, or sorrow. I expect her to plead for her life, for me to spare her. Instead, there's a resolute calm, a serenity, an acceptance of her fate. Without speaking, it's as though she's telling me, "do what you must." Why is she not resisting?

Do it, my thoughts continue to say. Be rid of her.

Something inside me snaps. It's as though I've been awakened from my slumber, from a bizarre dream. I look down at my foot in horror. What am I doing? How could I do such a thing?