Forgot your password?

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

Sign in

  • The other day I rescued a cockroach from my bathroom. I didn't kill it, I couldn't kill it. Even though I hate those ugly little creatures that scurry about warm sidewalks in dry climates all summer long, I couldn't kill it. I captured it in a glass mug and then realized that both of us were scared witless of each other. He scurried about in circles on the paper in the cup as I heaved nervously trying not to scream. I released him into the overgrown garden hoping he would not find his way back into my house. I have never saved a cockroach before. I feel quite silly even telling this story, but how things have changed. With death so heavy on my mind, all that I want is to see life, in whatever form, remain alive.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


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.