And the rest of the stories!

Here are the stories from this session of Icarus' Flight to Perfection fiction prompts. Stories from Cormac Brown, David Barber, Carolina Beach Bum, and Nicole Hirschi. Enjoy a quick infusion of fiction before heading out to face the Christmas shopping crowds.

Situation Ethics

This story was inspired by "the starter sentence" on Cormac and Nicole' blog Icarus' Flight to Perfection.
I hope you like it.


Sometimes promises are made to be broken.

That’s my first thought when I see the man they’ve wheeled into the operating room.

It’s a miracle he’s still breathing. He’s got multiple stab wounds in his torso and neck and slash wounds on his arms. Whatever happened to him, he fought back hard.

I run through a mental checklist of the pathophysiology of “penetrating trauma,” thinking, as always, that medical jargon is worse than legalese for obscuring pain and suffering behind big words.

This guy’s got it all—hypoxia, partial paralysis, unequal pupils, and active major bleeding. Whoever attacked him got his lungs, his spinal cord and who knows what all else. I count 12 different entry wounds and then, over the hot copper scent of his blood, I catch a whiff of shit, which means his bowel has been pierced too.

Everybody’s moving fast and with purpose. The nurse monitoring his vitals looks stressed.

I am not stressed at all. I issue orders. A nurse cuts off the patient’s blood-stained clothing and drops it on the floor, kicking it out from under our feet. Someone else starts a second I.V. line. We’re pouring fluids into him as fast as he’s bleeding out. Everyone’s looking at me, waiting for me to do my thing.

Looking down at the man on the operating table, I think, if this man dies on my operating table, no one will miss him. No one will mourn him. And more importantly, no one will ever question his death.

When I became a doctor, I swore the Hippocratic oath. I said, “I will practice and prescribe to the best of my ability for the good of my patients, and to try to avoid harming them.” I meant every word of that promise at the time.

But that was before I met the man on the table. His name, he had told me, was Cory and that was the first of his lies, but not the last. He stole my car. He emptied my bank account and he broke my heart. That last betrayal is the one I can’t forgive.

The men he owed money to came to my door and when they didn’t find him, they took out their anger on me. The cops who were looking for him came to my door and when they didn’t find him, they let me know they thought I was worse than scum. And then the other women came to my door looking for him and when they didn’t find him they told me their stories.

I look down at the man on the table whose karma has finally caught up with him. The words of the oath I swore go through my mind and…I let them go.

Sometimes promises are made to be broken.

'Tis the Season: NoHo Noir, Chapter 8

In this week's episode a wannabe screenwriter whose former partner has been wildly successful attends a Christmas party at his old friend's house. He leaves feeling very unfestive.
As always, Mark Satchwill has contributed a terrific illustration.

Here's a short excerpt from the story:

Christopher "Christo" Garland had gotten lost on the way to Eric and Celia's house. He had Mapquested it but he'd ended up in the wrong lane at that crazy intersection near the Iliad Bookshop and somehow he'd ended up on Burbank Boulevard going east. When he passed Circus Liquor, it reminded him that he hadn't bought a gift, so he parked and ran in to see what was cheap.

Circus Liquor
5600 Vineland Avenue
North Hollywood, CA 91601
8:15 p.m.

He grabbed a black bottle of Freixinet and brought it to the counter. He swiped his credit card as casually as possible, mentally crossing his fingers the transaction would go through. It didn't.

He tried again as the clerk eyed him sympathetically. When the verification failed a second time, Christo made a show of examining the card. "Expired last month," he said. "I forgot to put the new one in my wallet."

The clerk, who knew all about expired credit cards, just nodded as Christo pulled the last bill from his wallet, a twenty.

And just to show the clerk he didn't need his pity; Christo stuffed the change into one of the charity jars set up by the cash register. He probably makes what? Minimum wage? And he feels sorry for me?

By the time Christo finally arrived at his destination, there didn't seem to be a vacant parking space left in all of Toluca Lake. In front of Eric and Celia's house, there were uniformed valets hiking cars back and forth.

Eric and Celia hired valets for their party? I wonder how much that cost?

Read the rest of the story here.

Best Gift for a Christmas Geek Ever

So you know that person in your office who loves Christmas and identifies with the Geek tribe? This present is for that person. (Or for yourself--I ordered the tree and star for my own tree.) You can buy the ornaments here, at $5.95 for each set of two, and part of the money goes to feed the hungry.

Cranberry Chutney Recipe

I was at La Salsa today and was delighted to see that for the holiday season, they've added a cranberry salsa. It's pretty tasty and it reminded me that I haven't made cranberry chutney in a long time. If you like chutney and you like cranberries, you might like this recipe. Th recipe originally appeared in a now-defunct food blog.

SPICY CRANBERRY CHUTNEY

This spicy cranberry chutney is a tangy alternative to the usual cranberry sauce side dish. Adapted from a recipe shared by a New Orleans chef, it not only works well with turkey (and leftover turkey sandwiches), it pairs well with juicy roast pork or prime rib.

1 bag cranberries, washed and sorted
1 medium red onion, chopped
2 tbsp unsalted butter
1 ¼ cup granulated sugar
3 tbsp apple cider vinegar
2 tbsp grated fresh ginger root
Dash salt
I tsp. crushed red pepper flakes (optional)

Sauté the chopped onions in the butter until soft and translucent
Add everything else but the optional crushed red pepper.

Cook over medium heat until the mixture is reduced and syrupy.
Stir in the crushed red peppers if desired. Or you can substitute a pinch of cayenne pepper for a little more heat.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Speaking of Baghdad

Chances are you have not even heard of this movie, much less seen it, but it's worth seeking out. It is only 28 minutes long and features stories written by modern Iraqi writers about what life is like there now, voiced by American actors. (The tagline of the movie is "Their words. Our voices.") It's a lot like the acclaimed documentary Dear America: Letters Home From Vietnam. Here's a link to the trailer on IMDB.

New NoHo Noir--Cosmos

The story continues over at NoHo Noir with this flash fiction about a father and a son contemplating the mysteries of life. You'll see these characters again when the father is accused of murdering his ex-wife's new boyfriend. (The title of the series is NoHo NOIR after all.) The illustration by Mark Satchwill features my favorite building in the world, L.A.'s Griffith Observatory.

Here's an excerpt: The L.A. Observatory was Ty Garrett’s favorite place in the world so when the boy asked him to take him there, James was happy to oblige. Ty had been moody and restless all weekend, unwilling to open up about what was bothering him. James hoped a little star-gazing would make Ty feel better.

James hated that he didn’t know what was going on with his son all the time. He was 11 now, more little man than little boy, and it seemed like every time he saw him, Ty had changed in some subtle way. At least Erika had been good about the custody thing. But still, he hated her for breaking up the family, hated her for leaving him for the whitest man in Encino, a dentist who had billboards in three languages polluting the landscape all over the Valley.

It wasn’t the money. James was a good provider. He had parlayed a stint working in an Army motor pool into a business servicing temperamental foreign cars and their equally temperamental owners, people who pronounced “Jaguar” as three syllables like they’d been born in London, England and not London, Kentucky. In a good year, James pulled down six figures. Erika had no cause to complain there.

“Tooth guy wants me to call him ‘Uncle Tim’,” Ty blurted out, as if in answer to his father’s thoughts. Erika didn’t like it when Ty called Tim that and asked James not to encourage the disrespect. Most of the time he respected her wishes but now didn’t seem to be the moment for a lecture.

James glanced at his son’s anxious face. “Must be getting serious with your mother,” he replied neutrally.

Ty nodded. “We’re going to move in with him at Christmas,” he said.

READ the rest of the story here.