Stephanie Pittman
Bio
Older writer who never really got around to writing things publicly.
Stories (2)
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Humanity Redacted
“Trade?” The garbled askance barely washed over me. I was too busy glaring into the distance, thinking about the next place sitting in the back of my mind. The air was humid, the scent of week-old rot heady in the air mixed with the unpleasantries of the coming rains. The rains weren’t due to spoil the lands for a few hours, clouds of gray and green swirling in the distance, the rumbling of whatever deity deciding to dance onward still out of hearing range. I shifted my bag, an old beat-up thing I’d found somewhere on the outskirts of another town ravaged by the blight of the unanswered problem that allowed that gnarled hand waving at me to exist.
By Stephanie Pittman5 years ago in Fiction
