Forgot your password?

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

Sign in

  • Sometimes I can't remember which me I am.

    There are seven of us, neatly in a row. One is always ready for church. I think I am the bruised one. With the torn dress. But I could be the one with hair pulled back and goggles borrowed from the science lab. Oversized and serious.

    The one that we're all a little afraid of, the heart-breaker with the glowing peach lips. She's burning up for a boy to call her. If he doesn't soon there's no telling what she might do. We all breathe in a little. God help the boy.

    The littlest one is the tricksiest. We can't always keep an eye on her. She's up things that are too high or down things that are too deep and you only know when you hear her crying. It's a low wimper. We figure the grown ups don't always hear her. Sometimes we don't either. She get's real cross that tricksy one. But she's the favourite. It's how it goes.

    I lick my finger and hold it up to the air. See which way the wind's blowing. It can turn on a sixpence this wind. One minute it's blue skies and next there's a storm coming. I must be the bruised one 'cos I don't mind. Me and the dreamer, we go out in this. All weather is fine if you're dressed for it. Church tells us to come back. But once we're out the way she's enough on with the Heart-breaker. And that's alright 'cos Science never gives her an inch either.
    Dreamer turns to me and says "you think we're ever going to be Happy?"
    "I dunno" I say. "When she's back, you ask her what we can do to make her stay"

    "I will" say's Dreamer. "I will"
    • 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.