Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • The moon was a waning crescent. The bright north star sat to it's right keeping it company.  My heart skipped a beat, as it was wont to do from time to time, leaving me feeling just a little bit breathless, and weak, and fragile. It was at these moments when I most felt my humanity. I could see my mortality like a black dot at the end of the path in front of me. Dark and unknown and still far away, yet there was no doubt that it was there.

    I stepped up and slid open the hatch of my small sailboat just a bit further. I leaned my head back and could see even more of the black clear sky with it's bright pinpoints of light. What was I doing out here alone? It was so beautiful and so quiet and so lonely.  I buttoned up the old worn sweater that I had brought along more as a companion than as a piece of warm clothing. It was a graduation gift from my mother and I had worn it so often that it had permanently taken on the contours of my body and become threadbare at the elbows and ragged at the sleeves. Even the color which had once been a subdued but pretty moss green was now more of a drab light gray. I stepped back down into the sailboat and wrapped a woolen scarf around my neck. The nights were getting colder. 

    I had been out here for a little over a year now and it had been at least a month since I had seen another human being. The sea had wrapped it's arms around my little rocking craddle and I gave thanks every night that the oceans had favored me all this time with gentle night winds and sunny warm days. I had long anticipated the monster of the sea to rear it's head, but when it finally did, it was in a way I never would have expected.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.