Forgot your password?

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

Sign in

  • Ruining the Perfect Catch

    Lying in our bed with sheets tucked tight, I am reminded of the only trout that you caught last winter in the mountain lake. You gave it to me to cook in the open hearth of the still cabin. I placed the metallic coat of mail in someone's iron skillet. It lay there scouring me with its pleading eye. I harassed it but knew little else of what to do with it. You scolded me for ruining your perfect catch.

    To have you hold me gently in your hands like a bead of fine dew; to have you lay me down on a bed of Queen Anne's Lace, would be like tossing a handful of dice over our tight sheets.

    Pamela Wilonski
    • 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.