Sci-Fi with a Twist - The Fastest Gun Alive   Home

Stories filled with amazing tales of Time travel, outer space, adventure, and murder are all subjects you'll find in the new book by Jack Legend that stretches your imagination to new heights.

Jack Legend is a writer of science fiction that favors a classic bend toward time travel, thrillers, and outer space dramas.

Jack's 1st legendary science fiction novel is on its way featuring amazing science fiction short stories that will blow you away. Tentatively entitled, " Sci-Fi with a Twist" . Look for it  at Amazon.             Amazon Author  Facebook

science fiction short stories
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Short science fiction and fantasy stories that, more often than not, end with a surprise or twist you couldn’t see coming. Transport yourself to other lives and other worlds where travel through time and space is a reality and where second chances and the end of the world sometimes cross paths. It’s a detour into the unknown filled with wonder and excitement beyond reality, and yet close enough, to make you second guess yourself.
 Sci-Fi with a Twist Story List

The Fastest Gun Alive - A writer finds himself in his own story as his own wild west character. Can he survive long enough to get back home?

Preview Snippet

It was hotter than hades that summer, back in 1886, in a small, but busy, western town named Lobo. A lot of famous gunfighters made their way through Lobo at one time or the other, but the majority of the visitors Lobo got were unruly cattlemen that liked to get drunk and shoot up the town for fun on the weekend.

It was a relatively peaceful day when he rode into town. You could tell he was an experienced gunfighter just by looking at him. His eyes squinted, but not just from the sun. It was as if they were trained to focus in on the smallest detail. He wore two six-guns and carried a rifle on his saddle. He was a thin muscular man. You could just tell by looking at him that he was quick as hell and more dangerous than a rattlesnake. The horse he rode on was black, with a white streak of lightning down his forehead.

The townsfolk all stopped and stared as he rode into town, as if they were looking at a force of nature. There wasn’t any doubt he was there to kill, but the question was…was he there to kill somebody that deserved it, or was it just for pleasure.

“He got off his horse right at the saloon, and walked in and that’s all I’ve got so far.”

“Well, what is he there for, Harold?” asked Mary, Harold’s wife, as she drove her Toyota into town while Harold nervously fidgeted back and forth in his seat.

“I think he’s a bounty hunter, yeah, he’s a bounty hunter,” said Harold.

“Ok, so he’s just in town to collect a bounty? Where’s the conflict, Harold? I think he needs a personal reason above just money. Revenge, maybe?”

“Yes, but dear, every western hero is out for revenge. I mean, it’s been done to death.”
“True, but just shooting the bad guy for money isn’t going to pull the reader into the story, Harold.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
“Never. You know, honey, I’ve been writing these westerns for so long, sometimes I feel like I belong back there…”

“Harold, you’ve never even been out west, and if you mean back in the old west, you’d never survive.”
“Mary, what a thing to say.”
“I don’t mean to imply you’re not the most manly man of all time, Harold, it’s just that…”
“It’s just what, Mary?”
“Well, back then, they didn’t have television, for instance. That alone would be your death sentence.”

“Yes, yes, I know. There was no electricity, no heat and air, no running water, all the things we take for granted today, but, Mary, there weren’t any so-called ‘safe places’ for college students either. There was no 24 hour news coverage of all the world’s problems, no feeling of being tied down, on call every second of the day…prisoner to a smart phone, or hopelessly trying to think of witty things to post on social media to hopefully score some validation for one’s existence.

“Yes, dear, but you get so cold in the winter. That alone…”
“I know, I know, I’m soft…just as soft as everyone else in this God forsaken future world.”
“You mean present, Harold. It’s the present.”
“Yes, of course, but the past…it’s…”
“It’s what, Harold.”

“It’s…it’s so elusive. It’s real. It existed, and yet, it may as well be nothing more than a product of my imagination. It’s just…we can’t touch the past. It’s just an intangible idea, something to forever dangle in front of a man like a carrot that can never be reached. I mean, once it’s gone, history is…well…history.”
“Oh, Harold, is the present so bad, really?”

Harold’s eyes practically rolled out of his head. “Mary, our country is filled with fat lazy people that do nothing but sit and stare at screens all day. Gone, is the rugged individualism of yesteryear. Back in the day, a man only needed a horse, a blanket, and a gun to survive. His character was forged by his need to survive. He made it by his wits, guts, and determination. Men have become sissies, Mary. Modern man has been raised to be coddled and babied every step of their miserable self-indulgent little lives.”

“But, at least you get to eat whenever you’re hungry.”
“And that’s why obesity has become such an epidemic. Gone are the days when men had to hunt for food or ride for hours or days without instant access to food. If he was lucky, the average cowboy had some beans he could eat on the trail, or maybe he’d get a shot at wild game here and there. Today we can have food delivered to our door or be at a fast food restaurant in a matter of minutes, not to mention all the sugar laden garbage we hoard in our cupboards.”

“I don’t like the getting fat, part, Harold, but starving to death doesn’t sound like a lot of fun, either.”
“Maybe as a woman you just don’t get the need a man has to be rugged, to face danger, and prove himself against the threat of dangerous outlaws, wild animals, and the forces of nature. If I could just once…”

“What, Harold?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just a crazy dream of mine.”
“Come on, Harold.”
“Oh, it’s just sometimes I dream that I’m actually there. I’m one of my own western characters. It’s just marvelous, but then I wake up in this miserable world once again.”
“But, you wake up next to me.”
“Oh, sorry dear. You’re in my dreams too, of course.”
“What? Am I Miss Kitty?” asked Mary.
“You play different roles.”

“Let me guess, you ride in on a white horse and save me from the dreaded crooked cattleman who wants to steal my daddy’s ranch?”
“Something, like that,” said Harold with a smile.
The two arrived at their destination…their weekly shopping trip, where modern man hunts and gathers his food, otherwise known as the supermarket, but the conversation was not forgotten by Harold.

A week went by and Harold was still imagining a world where men rode on horses instead of in cars, where men were men, and women were women…a world where only the bravest of men could survive…a world where a man answered to no one…no income tax, no health insurance penalties, no rules and regulations to tie a man down or get him into trouble, other than thou shalt not kill or thou shalt not steal. It was a world where the law was simple and unrestrained by political correctness and massive government regulation…a world where men could still defend themselves and not be sent to jail or face penalties worse than his attackers. Harold thought of all this as he sat down to write about the man on the black horse again…the man without fear…the fastest gun alive.

“Harold, would you like some tea, dear?” asked Mary from the kitchen.
“Harold!” she called again, but no answer. “He must be asleep. How he falls asleep at his desk so easily, I’ll never know.”

Harold awakened as if from a dream. His face was firmly planted into the harsh dry dusty floor of the city of Lobo. He picked himself up off the ground. He instantly felt the oppressive heat above from the unforgiving sun and the taste of dust in his mouth. It was if he had just been stuck into a gigantic dryer.

Harold looked down at his feet. He had never worn cowboy boots in his life, and yet there they were, dust covered boots. He put his hands on his sides and felt two six-guns. On his head was a white cowboy hat which was also something else he had never worn before, unless you counted the plastic cowboy hat he wore as a child. It was part of his cowboy ensemble that complimented the cap guns his father gave him for Christmas one year.

He turned to his right, and there he saw the magnificent black stallion, with a streak of white lightning running down his forehead, that had previously only existed in his own imagination. He stood there as the noon day train roared into town and watched as ten men walked off that train, each one looking meaner than the next, armed, of course, and with an icy stare directed toward Harold that said, “I’ve killed many a man in my day, and you’re next.”

As they walked on, the entire scenario had not fully been absorbed into Harold’s conscious mind. After he came to himself a few minutes later, all he could think of was, “What the hell just happened?

To be continued   Sci-Fi with a Twist Story List

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