The creek met a bend, and the water flowed accordingly. Around this bend, two chubby children bathed. One was pale, as ivory. The other was dark, as ebony. Each was young and full of glee. The splashed about in the pool, naked, with much merriment.
Their mother watched, from the base of a tree, where she strummed a golden harp. She sang to them, her dear sweet twins, with all the tender affections of her maternal mind. And she was beautiful, as was her robe and scarf. Laced and embedded with countless ornate designs and rich materials. And her hair fell, over her beige skin, with all the beauty of a courtesan.
And as her fingers danced upon the silver thread of her golden harp, and her children frolicked upon the creek bed like illustrious carp - the tiny boat with the silent sail came around the bend.
And she sang, her voice lilting with beauty over the quiet lapping of water against the river's edge.
Call to me.
Here I be.
Fall to me.
Queer I be.
And the twins, one dark and one light, stopped in awe as the tiny ship sailed toward them. Its mast, only a foot high, was higher than their heads. And with apprehensive young eyes, and silent cherubic smiles, they looked on.
The water remained calm now, as they stopped splashing. It just kept flowing.
They expect to see tiny little people upon the ship. There were none. They saw this clearly as it flowed, undisturbed, between them. And they waded after it, calmly, though with gleeful grins and giggles.
And then they stopped. They had reached the edge, which they knew well, over where the water went above their heads. And beyond them, their sister stood.
Skinny as a skeletal lich and gray as a temple's arch, the adolescent girl stopped the ship with one out-thrust hand. Briefly, she inspected it, turning it around with her hand. And with the other, though wet, she plucked the parchment from it. And she began to untie the golden ribbon, using both hands, which caused the ship to continue sailing. The ship bounced gently against her belly.