Mind Games Deluxe

By James Kinsak

Get a full snootful of James Kinsak’s dark and gritty short fiction with the ten stories of his previous two collections, Mind Games and More Mind Games, collected together here in all their sharp-edged glory. From zombies to electronic stalkers, would-be heroes to wannabe coke heads, his characters will force themselves into your head and stake out some permanent territory.

Contains “When I Lay Me Down,” “Therapy,” “Basement Talk,” “Snort,” “The Four-Handed Corpse,” “Easy Time,” “A-Maze-Ment,” “Floaters,” “E-Threats,” and “One Night in Toronto,” plus and foreword and afterword by the author.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fiero Publishing
• Release date: Mar 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476433318

James Kinsak

James Kinsak writes fantasy, mystery, and horror stories that go into dark places and sometimes don't come out again.

Book preview

Novels by James Kinsak

Driven

Short story collections by James Kinsak

Mind Games: 5 stories that do not end well

More Mind Games: 5 more stories that do not end well

Mind Games Deluxe: 10 stories that do not end well (taken from Mind Games and More Mind Games)

MIND GAMES DELUXE

10 stories that do not end well

(from Mind Games and More Mind Games)

James Kinsak

Copyright © 2012 James Kinsak

Published by Fiero Publishing

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Author Foreword

When I Lay Me Down

Therapy

Basement Talk

Snort

The Four-Handed Corpse

Easy Time

A-Maze-Ment

Floaters

E-Threats

One Night in Toronto

Afterword

Excerpt from Driven

Author Foreword

Collections are always fun, both to see consistent themes in an author’s work and to scratch your head in bewilderment over how one mind can jump wildly from situation to wildly-different situation.

So what themes are you going to find in here? Lots of knife-to-the-neck stuff. Meaning life in extremis. Mostly ordinary folks who, for one reason or another, have stepped neck-deep into a shit-load of trouble, and the only question now is whether they’re going to 1) get out of it alive, and 2) if so, just how damaged?

You know the saying that the most dangerous opponent is one who has nothing to lose? Could be. Might also be true that the most dangerous person to be holding a knife to your neck might be the person who just assumes life’s going to rip away parts of them on a regular basis and they accept that as just part of the game.

Bring it on, man!

Another way of looking at it is that violence and manipulation for some people just isn’t something out of the ordinary or breaching some fundamental bulwark of civilized behavior; it’s simply a means to an end, one more implement in the tool box of life.

Do what you gotta do? Or do what you feel like doing, using whatever’s going to work best in this situation? Can you even assign a right or wrong when you’re dealing with zombies or Hollywood or psychopathic behavior? (And what about psychopathic Hollywood zombies?)

Have fun plunging through these tales. If they spark some ideas about your own life and decisions…please walk quietly into the nearest psychiatric hospital and check yourself in.

Kidding! I hope they do touch you with the shiver of a knife to your neck and make you appreciate all that you have.

Without further ado, here are where each of these stories came from (the origins for the More Mind Games stories are repeated here because, well, they’re still true):

When I Lay Me Down – Zombie apocalypse. Jeez, it’s even got its own television series now. When that happens, you know you’re into a happening meme. When I was challenged to write one of these, I decided to steer clear of the major blood and guts and gurgling moans inflicted on us by George Romero, or the running terrors of 28 Days, and go for something quieter. Truth was, the first version of this story was a flash fiction piece that said most of what I wanted to say, but editorial urging got me to flesh it out some more (pun intended). It also gave me room to add a nice little twist to the end which ultimately makes the story for me.

Therapy – I actually did an undergrad in psychology and worked a summer for a busy collective of counselors. Not to mention getting up close and personal with at least two psychiatrists over the years who were treating people close to me. And I believe that good head shrinks can be miracle workers. The not-so-good ones could sometimes use a wake-up call.

Basement Talk – Sometimes it seems like there’s a contest out there for who’s got the best demented reason for kidnapping someone and locking them in a basement. Here’s mine.

Snort – The origin of this one is just strange. Which probably explains the gentle strangeness of the story itself. It actually came out of a writing challenge I gave to my nephew while our families were staying at an all-inclusive Mexican resort. The deal was that we’d give each other a place and a character and then write a story about what we were given. I think I was given Hollywood and drug dealer. Hey, what else you going to do to pass the time while on vacation?

The Four-Handed Corpse – I actually wanted to write a straight-up short mystery for Woman’s World. But once I come up with a cool idea, no matter how hard I try, the Kinsak brain makes it just a shade too dark for a Midwestern matron munching her midmorning donut and reading stories about miracle weight loss. (Though this story is, in a bizarre way, about a kind of weight loss.)

Easy Time – This one went through a few cosmetic rewrites, changing the background alternate culture, until I stumbled on the idea of aboriginal healing circles and some of the keep-it-close-to-home justice. The original spark came from sheer frustration with a modern justice system that can never adequately address a serious wrong that’s been done. And some heavy thinking on just what it would really take…

A-Maze-Ment – Okay, caught up by memes again. How many really bloody reality show concepts got made into movies in the last five years. I think I’ve lost count. (And if you haven’t seen them all, it’s because you haven’t been cruising the B-Movie section of Netflix enough. Shame on you.) All I can say is that this was actually written before I blinded myself with all that awfulness.

Floaters – This came out of a newspaper story I read that stuck with me. Cranked my creative juices even as it churned my gut. I did not let my wife read this one.

E-Threats – This was actually written back in the bad old days of computer piracy when it felt like people who were hacking your computer weren’t just after your money, but your life. Oh, wait. Identity theft. I take it back. The more things change…

One Night in Toronto – I went to university in Toronto, Canada. The first apartment I rented after graduation is the one in this story. The events, though, are not autobiographical. I’ll also throw in that I wrote this during a mystery-writing workshop where we were challenged to write a noir. Go bleak! was the battle cry. The next day, when our stories were due, one of my fellow professional writers was reluctant to turn hers in because of just how dark it was. Then she read mine, and said, Well, hell… and turned it in after all.

You’ve been warned.

Again.

James Kinsak

March 19, 2012

At the end of the world, the choices get harder.

When I Lay Me Down

James Kinsak

Copyright © 2011 James Kinsak

For a time, the sound on the other side of the locked and boarded-up bedroom door stopped and the silence fell heavy around Jess. He took his handkerchief out of his overalls and wiped his neck. Gritty sweat. Dust in the air everywhere these days. Even in the ranch house.

He stuffed away his hankie. With his shotgun in hand, he went to the front door and opened it. Looked around. Wind had mostly died down. Only moving things were a couple dust devils rising out of the slough by the west forty then blowing apart. And bugs and heat.

Nothing else.

Twentieth day of nothing else.

In seemed the drought had not only killed off most everyone’s cattle and crops, turned the land into a dust bowl, and somehow started the whole damn living-dead infection thing; it had mostly ended it too. Or at least sent the infected stumbling eastward towards Grand Forks finally.

They ain’t gonna come back, he called back to the boarded-up bedroom door. They’ll head south next.

A strangled sort of grunting was the only reply. And more banging and scraping on the door. Jess grimaced, an almost-smile.

You know, he said, looking out from the gloom of the house, I been meaning to tell you. That day I come back from the city to find everyone infected, running around all bloody… I just about died that day, Lizzie.

More strangled grunts and kicks against the door behind him.

"But then I realized you'd