“What the hell!?” I blurt in English.

  Did I really just speak a new language? Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to make sense of what just happened. Have I lost my mind? Yes, definitely. I shudder as a breeze blows over my soaking body. The realization dawns on me that when she cried “Kivi, Kivi!” I had somehow understood that to mean “Sister, sister!”. Not only that, but before that, when the little woman yelled about a “shunbaggit”, I somehow knew that she meant “rope”.

  This is unthinkable. If I think about it, I don’t know a single word in this language, yet, if I don’t concentrate on it at all, the meaning of the words is perfectly clear to me, as if I’ve spoken this language for my whole life.

  The muscular woman sorrowfully holds her hands over her face, as if to hide it from the sun. Little Miss Cleopatra gets her attention and speaks to her, softly ranting to her with a worried expression.

  “... lost her mind. We need a doctor to take care of her quickly.” the small woman declares in her foreign language. There’s one word I can’t seem to understand, maybe. I’m not sure. As it is, I can’t think about it too much.

  “But how could someone forget their own sister?”

  “Are you hard of hearing? I told you, … lost her mind!”

  “...”

  “Let’s head to Wax Ship.”

  As they begin rowing towards the huge vessels in the distance, a melancholy silence falls between us. Only the icy wind continues, howling in its lonesome alien song.

  Besides suddenly speaking a new language, I have a much bigger problem. No, not the arrow in my shoulder. I need to figure out where I am, how I got here, and how to get back home. It's too much all at once. I just focus on being glad I’m not dead. I suck in the salty air and clutch my limp arm as I shiver. The other two begin speaking again, but I tune them out as much as I can, just focusing on the little warm spot where my palm touches my left arm.

  As the ships get closer, I truly begin to comprehend their massive size. Just one of them could probably fit every student at my school on deck. As our rowboat crawls into the expansive shadow of one ship, I can make out all kinds of carvings trailing along the upper contours of the ship. While the bottom of the ship is oddly featureless and smoothed over like a river rock, the top of the ship hardly has any blank space. Pictographic carvings of fire, smoke, and winged people, perhaps angels, punctuate long strands of abstract runes which I can’t make any heads or tails of.

  In the tall vessel's chilly shadow, the two girls rowing begin to argue. I tune them out for a bit, trying not to stress my mind any further. Quickly, my curiosity gets the best of me.

  “But she’s my sister, I should be with her!” bellowed the tall one.

  “Knowing you, you’d start a fight with the doctors. I’m going to take her, and you can report to Arkoda.”

  The tall woman frowns.

  “Okay.”

  “And call down the …” The little woman uses another word I can’t understand

  “Okay.” Replies the strongwoman.

  We pass deeper into the umbra of the ship, getting close enough to the side that I can hear the wood creaking. Still frowning, the big woman stands up, rocking the boat. She then hollers a short phrase up toward the deck of the ship, leaving my ears ringing. Frankly, I don’t think the volume was necessary.

  Only a moment passes before a shrill voice calls back. With that, a hefty contraption extends out from the deck, an organized cluster of dowels and hooks now looming way above us. Gears thunk together in a tremolo as four hooks on chains drop down towards our rowboat. I squint at it in amazement.

  The small woman stands up, steps toward me, and says a word I cannot understand. I look up at her.

  “...nevermind, you can’t do anything with your arm like that. Just sit there.” she says, now standing over me. I grimace, trying not to look at or think about the arrow jammed in my shoulder, lest I blow any fresh air on the embers of the pain. Additionally, if I think about being stuck out here on the ocean with these strangers, I will start screaming. Instead, I choose to focus on the little woman, closely watching with curiosity to see what she does next. Her eyes dart around impatiently at the swaying hooks above. Though her features are gaunt, there is something lively, even fierce, about them that could be called beautiful. Shit, I shouldn’t stare so much.

  As the hooks descend, she snatches two of them from above her. The tall woman follows suit, though in her case she needn’t reach above her shoulders to do so. They hold the hooks up for a moment, letting some more slack roll down into the chain until it nearly touches their feet. The little woman reaches behind me now, slotting both thick hooks into two symmetrical gaps carved into the hull of the boat. The other bends down to hook hers into two raised loops along the centerline of the boat. She stands again, cupping a hand beside her mouth. I plug one ear with my working hand, but plugging the other is a lost cause.

  After some bellowing from our side and oddly falsetto responses from the deck of the massive ship, the ropes straighten out, and our little rowboat begins to rise out of the water. It’s truly a fascinating device. It seems to have no metal parts, but the wooden pieces move and rotate as if they were being pulled by magnets. Even the chains and hooks seem to be made out of some odd matte substance. Whatever it is, it’s strong enough to hold the three of us up in the air. If I really want to know what it is, I suppose I can ask…

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  I nearly open my mouth, but a shiver runs down my spine. Was I about to speak in that strange language again? I can’t speak that language. I don’t even know it! How could that be possible? It shouldn’t be. I don’t want it to be. I swallow the words. I wish this were only a dream.

  As the clunking of the machine slows, our rowboat gradually peeks over the side of the ship. I hear the chatter and screams of playing children. The ship is quite populated, but to my shock, there is not an adult in sight. Children of all ages sprawl across the deck of the boat, singing, fighting, threading bead necklaces, and even the group operating the strange mechanical device, which lifted us up here, are just kids. What’s going on here? Why are there all these kids out here? Where are we, anyways? I have so many questions, but I’m too afraid to let the words form. I’m afraid to speak even once, to leave footprints in this fever dream, to get used to this alien language. I’m afraid to prove the unthinkable. I’d rather pretend I’m not here at all. I grit my teeth. My mind is still swamped in a haze, and I’m just running on fumes.

  “Can you walk? Come on already.” Says the short woman, as she finishes climbing out onto the ship’s deck.

  Silently, I obey, climbing aboard with only one hand to steady myself, taking care that I don’t plummet down into the waves below.

  “I’ll return soon, sister.” the strongwoman promises, still standing in the rowboat.

  I look back to the short woman, who says nothing in reply. Silent treatment? With a cacophony of gears, the rowboat is lowered back down to the water. The tall woman gives me a worried look as she sinks down below view.

  The short woman starts off towards the stern of the ship. I trail behind her. Kids stare at us from every direction. We stick out like two sore thumbs. I just look at the ground and stick to her shadow.

  When I look up, I see at the rear of the deck a uniform row of large bird cages suspended off of the wall. A few of the cages have parrots in them, but they look very strange. It almost seems as if the parrots have no eyes. Are these even parrots at all?

  “...” I pause, almost asking my question aloud. Again, I’m afraid to speak.

  I close my eyes. Be rational. If I ever want to figure out where I am and how I got here, I’m going to have to ask questions. No matter how much I want to ignore this reality, it will still be there when I open my eyes. Here goes nothing. I take a deep breath and open my eyes again. I let the strange language flow over my tongue.

  “What are thes-”

  “Hurry up! We don’t have time to waste!” growls the short woman.

  I shut my mouth and snap to her side.

  Beside the stairways leading up onto the helm of the boat, there are a few large doors leading to interior decks. I’m led over to one door where a young girl in a worn black shawl stands at attention. As we approach, she opens the door, ushering the two of us inside. My eyes adjust to the darkness. We’re walking down a long, gloomy corridor which leads to a number of doors on either side like a school hallway. Big bench platforms stretch down almost the entire length of the walls on either side. Along the platforms, sickly and malnourished kids sit and lay in various levels of unconsciousness. I wince at the macabre scene. Little Cleopatra points at a space on the bench.

  “Stay there and don’t move.” She marches off down the hall without explaining. I muster the strength to call after her.

  “Wait!” I blurt desperately in her language.

  “What? Is something wrong?”

  “Um…”

  “I don’t have time for this!”

  “Wait.” I have a long list of questions to ask her, but this seems like a good place to start: “What is your name?”

  The little lady scoffs at me.

  “You’re confused. Just be quiet and wait there.”

  Now alone, I slump down on the bench. I don’t know a thing, not even the name of the girl who saved me. Chances are, it’s not “Cleopatra”. I cover my face with my working hand. Jammed against the rough wood of the dark corridor, there is nothing to focus on besides my burning questions and my aching wounds. I force out heavy audible breaths. Time moves slowly, digging in its claws like a stubborn old cat being taken to the vet. Why am I out on the ocean? How did I get here? Who are these weird people? Most of all, how can I possibly know a language without… knowing I know it? I want to get up, storm down the hall, throw open the door, and give that wannabe Cleopatra a piece of my mind. Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on? But I’m too weak to move. Like a car’s engine that refuses to start, my mind spins and spins noisily going nowhere. I think back to my home. Mom will be worried sick about me. My sister too. And there’s no way in hell I’m making it back to band practice now. My aches, exhaustion, and now an intense hunger bubbles up to the surface of my mind. Bubbles rise, pop, and more bubbles follow in time. The pace is glacial. My mind is settling, but far from settled. I clench my jaw and endure, until a voice pulls me back to the present.

  “Sit up!” The wannabe Cleopatra commands me, now standing over me. She gently touches my uninjured shoulder. I shift my body, gingerly laying my burning back against the uneven wall. She sits down beside me, looking down at my feet. The soft fabric of her robe brushes against me. For the first time, it occurs to me that I’m wearing a robe too. Since when? Mine robe is more charcoal than cloth, and falls over my body in baggy uneven lumps. In all the panic and surprise, I suppose that my change of wardrobe was the last thing on my mind. The short woman clears her throat, still looking towards our feet. I gaze down at her. Why doesn’t she want to look at me? Her attitude is really off-putting.

  “Don’t worry, you’re not going to die. They will be ready soon.” She says quietly.

  I hazard a question.

  “...Where are we?”

  This earns a disappointed sigh from her.

  “The doctor’s hold. They can treat you here.”

  “Okay… good.”

  Finally, she gives me a straight answer! A silent moment passes. Just then, a group of adolescent girls in black shawls emerge from the doorway at the end of the hall. They carry something like a wooden stretcher down the hall. They’re the oldest kids here, but still, why kids? Though some of the kids are older than the others, in this whole corridor, we are incontestably the oldest here. Many of the kids have been giving nervous glances in our direction. It’s all very strange. Watching the black-shawled girls march past us, I try another question.

  “So… why are there so many kids here?” I ask.

  Amazed, the short woman actually looks at me.

  “Those,” she points at the passing girls, “are the doctors.”