Travis Pittman
Bio
Stories (8/0)
Verkis and the Foundling
Verkis flew with confidence through the skies. Sunlight glinted off polished, emerald scales. Claws of ivory scythed through the air and the lighter membranous skin of their wings cast an impressive shadow across the ground. Verkis loosed a bugling roar, and jets of emerald flame lanced through the sky. They had just earned their second naming, and felt great pride in their growing splendor. Verkis, they thought, much better than mere Ver.
By Travis Pittman2 years ago in Fiction
Matador Run
“Is it true? You’re really gonna try to do matador run tonight?” * Luke leaned back casually in a green and blue striped lawn chair. It was one of several mismatched pieces of furniture organized around a roaring bonfire, an excessive blaze that was a bit much for the mild sixty degree cool of the last night in October. In the assortment of chairs and roaming about the surrounding area lit by the fire’s flickering light, roamed a host of ghouls and ghosts, doctors and nurses, assorted TV and movie characters galore. Luke took a sip from a cup that contained nine parts kool-aid, one part whatever mix of alcohol had made its way in, and tipped back his wide brimmed hat. He himself had arrived as a cowboy, his fine attire made of a red button up shirt, faded blue jeans, cowboy boots and hat. In truth the outfit was a mishmash of whatever he had found around the house, hence the plastic light-up laser gun he had borrowed from his younger brother. To any curious enough to mention the inconsistency, he would just joke he was a space cowboy. Glancing up he saw that the question was levied by a girl with a red wig slightly askew in a small green dress and fairy wings. *
By Travis Pittman3 years ago in Fiction
Festival of Remembrance
Harlan left through the eastern gate and walked into the plains and fields beyond. Behind him loomed the ancient walls of Astora, standing sentinel over mankind’s largest stronghold. As Harlan walked away, the din of the city slowly faded, its excited, anticipatory sounds falling behind. It was the twenty-first of Artum, which made today the Festival of Remembrance.
By Travis Pittman3 years ago in Fiction
A Shark Named Lani
In the cool ocean waters, beneath the wan light of the moon, is a world free of Man; free of them but concerned by them all the same. The silvery light that beamed down failed to make it far into the indigo waters, but near the surface swam two graceful creatures, their pale bodies gliding in and around the beams that shown through the water.
By Travis Pittman3 years ago in Fiction
Casey's Magic Box
The most unnerving summer of my life started off so simply. It’s the middle of June back in ’87 and I was living on my own. Times were difficult and I made my living pulling two dead end jobs to barely afford an apartment I shared with two others. I was returning home after a double at dead end job number two, a dishwasher making one of the smaller links in the great Melvin’s Diner restaurant chain. Reaching the third and final level of the complex, a feat that seemed impossible from the ground, I turned down our hall to see what would cause the start of it all; a small, brown box at the door.
By Travis Pittman3 years ago in Fiction
The Great Cake War
It had been a day. No, no. Not just a day, a terrible day, a day of epic, horrible, incalculably awful proportions. You see, David had just learned that his best friend, Austin, was leaving for the summer to some extended survival camp, training…thing. He kind of spaced out when he said that their plan from before, that they had both agreed on for the summer, was now ruined. Their other friend Caleb had a new tabletop game they were looking forward to, one that took hours to complete a single session of, over an extended campaign. A board game they couldn’t possibly complete during the school year because there wasn’t enough time.
By Travis Pittman3 years ago in Fiction
The Old Chancey Barn
“Have you heard? They say someone moved into the old Chancey house. Seen a lot of odd lights down by the old barn.” Hanging around the corner diner in Monroe, the old timers of the town spent their day discussing events of interest. In such a small town, such events were rare, and often times a topic of interest long outlived the amount of attention it deserved. When Frank brought up this newest topic, in the midst of a repeat discussion of the lack of good fishing places since the power plant upstream started up, no one had any real objections, as it was indeed time for something new.
By Travis Pittman3 years ago in Fiction
Generation Doomsday
"What're we doing here, Alv? This is Big Dumb." Alvin turned to his friend Poke incredulously. "You still don't brain it? We need food, Poke. Over that way is food. Good food, smackable food, many muchs of it. If you don't brain that, maybe you’re Big Dumb."
By Travis Pittman3 years ago in Fiction