It’s the Turtle that Wins the Race, Right?

I finally got past 12,000 words.  I’m just trudging along with nanowrimo.  This is harder than I thought it would be.  However, because of that, if I actually do this I will be very happy.


“I got a better offer,” I told him flippantly; I didn’t like to think on this part of my human life.  Hell, I didn’t like to think about my human life much at all.  It wasn’t so hard being so long ago.  I had a whole new demon life that was fully devoted to the biggest mistake of my human life.

“You got a better offer than someone’s love?” he looked confused.

“Yes.  I got offered money and power.  It was all I ever wanted as a human.”

“What was he like?”


“The man that you loved.”

“Oh,” I was taken by surprise.  I hadn’t thought about him in a very long time.  They weren’t all fond memories.  “His name was Pak.  His mother was our cook and he often came with her to visit.  Pak was a sweet and kind soul.  I had never met anyone like him, gentle and caring.  We spent every moment that we could together.  He treated me like a princess – no, like his princess.  See, people always treated me well, not because they thought that I was worthwhile, but because I was ruthless and powerful and they feared me.  At times they wanted a part of my power or wealth.  Not Pak.  He was content just to love me, not needing anything, not fearing my wrath.”  I chuckled to myself, a terribly sick joke, “He should have feared me.”

Dominic looked transfixed.  I wondered what he would think by the end of the story.

“Pak wasn’t like other men, even back then.  We would go down to the river often.  He would fish.  When he wasn’t fishing he would hold me and wax poetic about love and our future.  He wanted to marry and raise children.  It all sounded so nice when he said it.  Otherwise I had no interest in those things.  I always thought that being a wife and mother only tied you down.  When I thought about being a wife and mother with Pak, the definition seemed to change.  I was this close,” I pinched my fingers together, “to being happy seeing myself with a whole herd of our own brats.”

A sigh escaped me.  The times I spent with Pak were happy ones.  I hadn’t thought of them in a long time.  The times I spent in Pak’s arms were carefree and wonderful and more than I ever deserved.  The times I had spent without Pak in my human life were spent thinking about how to get more – more money, more power, more land, more of everything.

“What happened to you and Pak?” he prodded.

“What happened to me and Pak?  Absolutely nothing.  We spent some amazing time together; time that I will never forget, even in my very long demon life.  Not long after, I was propositioned by another to marry and with it came the riches and power that I craved.  It was the perfect match for me.”  I was matter-of-fact about that.  All I ever wanted was money and power.  Love was secondary and not worth nearly as much as money and power brought to my life – or so I wished.

“So you married for riches and power, happens all the time,” he shrugged it off, “And Pak?  Did he find another love?  Did he get married and raise a bunch of kids until old age?”

My throat caught.  This is the part that I wasn’t looking forward to.  This was my one regret.  Greed I could handle, my worst nightmare coming true was beyond what I thought I could live through.  I controlled the shaking in my voice when I spoke next, “My husband knew of our love and before he would marry me I had to prove to him that I had loyalties only to him.  I ordered Pak’s death.  I watched him die.  I didn’t even hold him as he screamed for just one more caress from me.  He never had a chance to love another.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I was; I have no doubts about that.”

“Did you love your husband?”

“Not in the least.  He was vile and greedy and mean.  My life with him was spent trying to avoid spending time with him.  It’s not as if he minded as he spent most of his time trying to get into other women’s pants and avoid spending time with me.  He gave me what I needed – money beyond my wildest dreams, power beyond what I had ever sought, and land that reached far beyond my grasp.  Then he killed me.  He found another mistress that demanded she be his wife.”  I was still bitter from the cheap way he had me killed.  At least murder me with some dignity.


One response to “It’s the Turtle that Wins the Race, Right?

  1. Yes! The turtle wins every time! 😉 Keep it up – you are doing awesome!!

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