Forgot your password?

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

Sign in

  • The sky has gone all wheezy. Yellow. Sickly. Faint rumblings spill from clouds not quite overhead. It is still. Still. The air thick. Choked.

    As though something is about to die.

    There are no birds. Not a one. No squirrels, chipmunks, snakes. No butterflies, no bees, no dragonflies. Just this taut inside of a fat balloon.

    They say people go mad in moments such as these. Waiting for it.

    And then it never materializes, passes by. And the sky shifts and fills with wings.
    • 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.