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by Trevor Leyenhorst

cumulonimbus from the morphing mediocris and spread like a plague over the Wawasen archipelago. From Lurruna they appeared to stretch over the expanse of the world, where in fact they only reached the first few islands of Midden, to leave Theo and Bu in the sun. The clouds were like a swathing of smoke from the dragon’s after-burn.

  The branding trio returned to Bu, uncertain how settled they should become before they were summoned to the next batsu omhaal. The Ishi, drowned in his muted silver capa, still carried Laila on his tired heart. The Kawani, though mindful of Mek’s vigilance, scrawled an R and an A and the rest of his name on her scroll. The Ammit sat beside her the entire way home.

  Back on Lurruna, Ravno danced lightly beside Keba on their way to the east-side beach. He felt more symmetry with her than ever before. His shoulders were bare in the light rain and a familiar hum marauded his mind as they went along, ‘…The sitka spruce and magnolias too, more than enough on this island of ours….’ They passed a grey crow that picked at an acorn. It turned its head to examine the nut with one eye.

  They had slept at the Bhavata House the previous night amidst a mixture of cinnamon, sage, and nervous excitement. Ideas and commitments were thrown around the circle of those gathered like volcanoes flinging molten ash across the islands. The conspirators had no lack of motivation or clarity in vision, but they all knew the possible consequences of acting against the Group of Eleven.

  Full of promise and life, Keba and Ravno left the house just after the heavy orange moon of bulanost sunk below the ocean. In its stead, the sun came for the day and spread eager rays through small gaps in the clouds, over the tops of trees and across a shimmering sea.

  They left their clothes on the pile of rocks that separated the two beaches and let the cooling water swallow their ankles, their legs, and their bodies. They swam like thought streams that roll and rush through the mind and they let the salt mingle with their eyes. Their limbs waved in slow motion to keep themselves below; then they threw their hands down and kicked to bring themselves above. Down, up, down and up, and down again, when Keba’s legs drifted lifeless and her body sank like the moon. At first Ravno smiled at her mischief and swam to the top. But after a moment, when his only companions were droplets of rain that abandoned the clouds for the sea, he ducked back under to find her. He could only see particles in the water and a dip in the sand that made a distracting shadow. His chest tightened in the cold water. I don’t see her, I don’t see her…. He swam more frantically, and turned to his first and second. All at once he saw her crumpled on the sand floor, blurry through his eyes. Her hair looked unusually calm for all the washing about and fro-fraying of the tide. He wrapped his arms around her torso and kicked off the bottom, up and toward the shore. Ravno struggled with her body in one arm; he held her back against his chest in panic and his other arm ripped at the water. They emerged at the top and broke the surface. With a great effort he floated her, face up. Her hair and the sea were in his mouth. Their legs were tangled as he tried to kick to the shore. He finally managed to get to where his feet reached the rippled sand below.

  Once in shallow water, he dragged her body past the surf and lay her on her side. The low tide grabbed at her limp knees.

  ‘Keba Keba Keba! K!’ Ravno shouted.

  As he rolled her to her other side, her eyes snapped open and looked at him as the grey crow had looked at Aron: uncertain, cautious, and with an absurd flavor of confused comicality.

  ‘Rav. For a second I thought I saw me, in front of me, while we were under water.’

  Ravno exhaled an immense sigh of relief when he saw the life in her animated eyes. They both heaved in gulps of precious air as they looked at one another.

  ‘Keba, what did you see?’ he said, as he helped her up into a seated position beside him.

  She tried to recall. ‘I saw flashing suns, like when you close your eyes on a bright day, and I saw myself I think, though it was blurry. And suddenly I’m lying here in your arms,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

  He smiled at her and held her close.

  The End

  Glossary

  Wawasen—English

  Chapters

  Penemua—Discovery

  Sagra—Sacred

  Mandiri Kenaikan—Self-gain

  Bhula Susthatara—False Recovery

  Mati—Bottom

  Penemua Kembali—Rediscovery

  Santulita—Balance

  Months

  Bulanbat—First

  Bulanbi—Second

  Bulaniru—Third

  Bulanau—Fourth

  Bulanost—Fifth

  Bulansei—Sixth

  Bulanazpi—Seventh

  Bulanortzi—Eigth

  Bulanbederatzi—Ninth

  Various

  Ada Era—Time of survival from ancient peoples to Wawasens

  Ammit—Person who brands perpetrators

  Batsu Omhaal—Branding ceremony

  Bhavata—Group against branding ceremonies

  Boto—Boat

  Botorang—Illusive people who live on boats

  Capa—Cape-like garment worn around the shoulders

  Cokha—A switch; the act of seeing through another’s eyes

  Gara—Respectful nickname for the Prime Minister

  Grebet—Designated paddler in the boat

  Ishi—Healer, doctor

  Jibana—Inner light, energy and soul

  Jodoh-saudara—Love-brother, formerly brother-in-law

  Kawani—Announcer and facilitator for branding ceremonies

  Kashimat—Grandmother

  Kashottsa—Grandfather

  Kuro verve—Black painted earlobes on males

  Maitatu—Partner/spouse, female

  Maite—Partner/spouse, male

  Mat—Mother

  Mayataran—Undertaker who prepares the body for a sky burial

  Mercato—Open market

  Navita—Captain of the boat

  Ottsa—Father

  Pack—Living area, home

  Para Zona—Area of many steam vents and steam rooms

  Parna—Small steam room

  Pelajaran—Educational forums

  Saudara—Brother

  Saudari—Sister

  Todunasse—State of living alone, without a committed partner

  About the Author

  Trevor Leyenhorst was born in 1985 as the youngest of three children. He lived in Pitt Meadows as a farmer, momentarily as an auto-mechanic (his father’s career), and as an event videographer. After he fell in love with his wife, Lindsey, he moved to the city. He worked in the Vancouver film industry and became an American Sign Language-English interpreter. Trevor and Lindsey live in New Westminster, Canada, with their son Adri.

  The idea for Switch, self-published in November 2014, sprouted in 2010 as he lay in bed with his wife and matched his breathing to hers—in through the nose and down to the stomach, out from the chest and out from the nose. And who could tell if he switched right then in the dark of the night?

 


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