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    Still Even More Things I Could Get Out of My Mind
    Still Even More Things I Could Get Out of My Mind
    Still Even More Things I Could Get Out of My Mind
    Ebook98 pages1 hour

    Still Even More Things I Could Get Out of My Mind

    By William Mangieri

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    About this ebook

    Another collection of six short speculative fictions by William Mangieri, in which we learn some life lessons:
    It’s hard to be left behind.
    You can’t be brain-washed if you have no memory.
    One being’s possession is another’s salvation.
    Little things can make all the difference.
    It’s amazing what you can find at a flee market.
    Be careful what you smoke.

    Includes the short stories:

    Bugging Out
    Change is hard to deal with under the best of circumstances, but what do you do when everything you know seems to be disappearing around you? A lonely, cantankerous shopkeeper struggles to keep what’s left of his world.

    The Unreliability of the Mature Mind
    It's frustrating to deal with the inconsistencies of dimentia and it's effects on maturing minds, but what if our defense against a future invader depended on that unreliability? Can mind control work on someone who can’t control their own mind?

    My Brother’s Keeper
    A space traveler lands on a primitive planet, and contends with the backwards philosophy of some brown-robed brethren as he tries to rescue his own brother's spirit. What would you be willing to do to save a soul from oblivion?

    The Black Spot
    On a routine shift, one of the miners is exposed to something...different. The company doctor says it's just in his head, and he's right, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing. There may be a Workman's Comp claim here...

    Flee Markets
    Small town summer doldrums can leave your imagination wanting to flee away with you, taking you to far-away places - or maybe even bringing them to you for a time. Samantha Sanger has a chance encounter with a slightly disreputable merchant and learns that the limits to what you can be sold go beyond cold hard cash. Purveyors of controlled artifacts must choose their customers carefully.

    Canabis alienus ‘alien dope’
    L.D. had always been an unapologetic pot-head, but something has gone wrong and he's fallen off the radar. Eric returns home for what he thinks is going to be a simple intervention, but turns into... something else. Be careful what you smoke...

    (stories also available individually)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWilliam Mangieri
    Release dateOct 31, 2014
    ISBN9781310993848
    Still Even More Things I Could Get Out of My Mind
    Author

    William Mangieri

    William Mangieri is a karaoke junkie, former theater student, and recovered wargamer who spends as much time wondering "what if?" as "why not?". He writes from Texas, where he and his family live at the mercy of the ghost of a nine-pound westie.William writes mostly speculative fiction (that’s science fiction, fantasy and horror), although he also has a detective series with a soft sci-fi element (Detective Jimmy Delaney.) He completed writing his first novel (Swordsmaster) in 2019; prior to this, he has honed his skills on short fiction. He has been published in Daily Science Fiction and The Anarchist, and six of his stories have earned Honorable Mentions in the Writers of the Future contest.

    Read more from William Mangieri

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      Book preview

      Still Even More Things I Could Get Out of My Mind - William Mangieri

      Still Even More Things I Could Get

      Out of My Mind

      A collection of short speculative fictions

      by William Mangieri

      Copyright 2014 by William Mangieri

      Smashwords Edition

      This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Stories contained in this collection are copyrighted by the author:

      Bugging Out: Copyright 2012

      The Unreliability of the Mature Mind, My Brother’s Keeper, The Black Spot, Flee Markets, Cannabis alienus ‘alien dope’ : Copyright 2013

      Table of Contents

      Bugging Out

      The Unreliability of the Mature Mind

      My Brother’s Keeper

      The Black Spot

      Flee Markets

      Cannabis alienus ‘alien dope’

      Origins

      About the Author

      Bugging Out

      Cyrus stood behind his battered formica counter and pressed his finger on each of the scattered coins.

      One-fifty-seven, one-fifty-eight, one-fifty-nine. That’s a dollar-sixty.

      Gabe scratched his short white beard as he ran his eyes over the change, his lips moving as he counted under his breath.

      I see a dollar seventy. Maybe you need some new glasses.

      You think these aren’t good enough? Cyrus asked, tapping his jelly-jar-thick lenses. I’m closing up soon. You need another dime.

      Gabe leaned over the counter and moved the change into fifty cent piles.

      You should get contacts like me. Maybe you wouldn’t look so old.

      Who are you calling old? You’re no younger than I am.

      That may be, but at least I can see, Gabe said, and he straightened up from his counting. Hmmm...bugs.

      Gabe, if you think you’re going to jew me down on that banana just because...

      They’re not on the banana, you old fool. It’s those bugs Viv complained about; behind you, there; on the counter.

      Cyrus turned around and looked, but all he saw were the stacks of cigarettes and lighters.

      I don’t have bugs; Viv was just joking. I keep my store clean.

      Gabe snorted, I haven’t ever seen you clean anything in here. You always said that was Viv’s job, and she’s been gone...

      Cyrus got a hard look on his face.

      You keep that up, I’ll sick Moses on you.

      The grey-muzzled black lab lying behind the counter lifted its head at the sound of its name.

      That old dog has less teeth than you do, Gabe said, He’s something else you ought to replace.

      Moses put his head back down between his paws.

      I don’t need a new dog, Cyrus said, and I don’t have any bugs.

      I know Viv saw them; doesn’t matter to me if you can see them or not. Gabe said, and then pointed from one group of coins to the next, Fifty, a dollar, a dollar-fifty, and ten, fifteen, twenty. That makes one-seventy.

      Cyrus stared down at the coins, then started picking them up, pennies first.

      I’ve got to close up, he said, waving Gabe off as he deposited the coins in the tray of his antique brass NCR register.

      Gabe picked up the banana and walked away shaking his head.

      World’s leaving you behind, and you can’t even see it. Get some new glasses, he said. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and opened the door; the bell mounted on top jingled as he stepped out into the night.

      Crazy old coot, Cyrus said as he finished putting the change in the register. He pushed the drawer closed, and kept his hands on the satisfyingly solid metal.

      He probably thinks I should replace you, too, with one of those electronic things. But you work, even when there’s no power, don’t you?

      Cyrus patted the register, then turned to look at Moses, who was sleeping again. He bent slowly at the waist to touch the dog’s head.

      And there’s nothing wrong with you, either. Us old folks need to stick together, don’t we?

      As he straightened up, a flash of blue among the cigarettes caught his eye. He bent forward to where he was close enough to see the warning labels clearly, but there wasn’t anything moving, just a small, shiny blue spiral etched onto the packs of Marlboro Lights.

      When did they start doing that? he asked Moses.

      He hobbled to the door, locked it, and flipped the old metal sign around to read CLOSED, and when he did it he saw a flash of blue on the sign. He thought it was a bug, and let go of the sign quickly so that it popped against the door. But the blue didn’t move

      Damn that Gabe; now his bug nonsense is getting in my head.

      He bent closer to the sign and saw the shiny blue spiral on the corner.

      Damn kids messing with my things again.

      Cyrus tried rubbing the mark off with his thumb, but it wouldn’t budge, so he gave up. He turned off the lights, and then, as he’d done in the dark every night for thirty-six years, he took the cash drawer from the NCR and the Smith & Wesson Model 29 from under the counter, and slid both into the gap he’d built under the old wooden Pepsi cases in the corner. Except now it wasn’t as dark as it used to be; the lights from the new 7-Eleven across the street were peeking through the gaps in his floor to ceiling window ads. He wondered if he needed to change his hiding place.

      Cyrus gripped onto the assuringly solid wooden railing and worked his way up the narrow stairway to his apartment, with Moses plodding along behind him. He put a frozen pot pie in the oven, then sat at the kitchen table waiting while it cooked, staring across at the chair Viv had smiled back at him from for all those years, until she had to go to stay in the home. Until she just vanished off the face of the earth.

      How the hell could they go and lose her?

      The oven timer dinged.

      After he ate, he sat in an armchair in the quiet of the living room, and Moses lay down next to him. Cyrus glanced at the empty spot on the other side of the lamp, where Viv’s matching chair used to be, before it went off to the home with the rest of her things so the place wouldn’t feel so alien. He imagined her, sitting there working her crosswords, and wished he at least had gotten the chair back from the home, something to help him feel like he hadn’t just imagined her for all those years,

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