MFM: Fear

With Halloween lurking just around the corner, our dear Sweltering Celt, has assigned us this week’s theme of Fear. I must admit that the word brought forth an immediate and visceral response from me. I think writing this took all of 20 minutes.


I can feel the pressure of her knee, heavy, in the small of my back. I can smell the rancid odor of tequila emanating from her mouth as she slurs filthy, angry words into my right ear. I can see the detritus of her power trip lying about the room. Every possible object that could penetrate, tried and cast aside. I can hear her cruel laughter as I struggle to breathe when she puts her sweaty hand around my throat again, pulling my head back toward her. I can sense the rivulet of blood making its way from between my thighs to pool underneath me, a permanent stain on the mattress to remind me of my poor choice of partners.

I hear the glass shatter. I smell the bitter Merlot within. I see, with utter terror, the jagged edges of the bottle as she waves it in front of my face. I sense her movement, her shift in weight, pushing me harder into the bed. I feel the cold of the bottle pressed against my inner leg just before

I wake up. My clothes are drenched. My sheets tangled. I am disoriented. I need to get my bearings. And realize that I am alone. This is not the same apartment. This is not the same bed. This is not the same me. My breathing becomes less labored. My heart begins to slow its racing beat. It won’t happen…again.

I have nothing left to fear.




  1. Incredibly powerful and I hope pure fiction and not at all based on life experience.

  2. If this is *real* and based on fucking C – I will fuck a bitch UP. Give me her address. Seriously. If this is fiction – excellent job. It elicited strong emotions – I seriously want to inflict bodily harm on that woman.

  3. If it came that quickly I cant help but believe it… (clearly so did one of your other commenters)

    It wont happen again? Hmmm…I doubt it.

    Excellent writing.

    • I will own up to this. It’s no fantasy and the memory is as real as if it happened yesterday. I think the clarity of that memory will always keep me from repeating what was perhaps the only thing in my entire life that I will regret until the day I die. I’m lucky she didn’t kill me…so check it out…it made me stronger.

  4. Wow.. does writing about it take some of the power and fear out of that memory, or is it pretty constant? I’m glad you survived that, clearly, you are stronger.

    • Well, obviously it was the very first thing I thought of and I couldn’t shake it enough to write something fictional. However, it is true…that old adage about what doesn’t kill you…and I truly don’t believe I am doomed to repeat old patterns that have caused me (and those I love) great pain in many forms. This was one tough MFM!

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