The Sara Bellum Review, Vol lll
by
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Quicker than you can say, “Shopping for flowers at Bloomingdales,” the repast was on a tray and being served. “Sara!” “I hear you,” she answered, looking fresh and ready for a new day as she entered the living room. “Looks delicious and thank you and now, where were we,” . . . reading energy? “To recap, we’re talking about the difference between the old and the new. The former featured a tree, not any ordinary tree but one with hearing limbs so that it could pick up Alicia Whitewater reading what was current in the River News. “The new card puts glasses on the tree, which enables the fir to not only read but also to do the visual thinking required to decode The Book of the Forest.” Sir went to work on his banana while Sara layered some honey onto a piece of toast. “And what exactly would it be decoding?” “That would be the interconnection of all life forms.” “Whoa, this card packs a wallop.” “So does the human intellect,” Sir replied. “This is going to take a while to digest.” “Yep, and it’s all about tapping our inner power through the use of symbols. When you believe that the card has the power to create, that little piece of plastic is more than willing to reciprocate. A shift in perception can quickly turn a button into a coin; a log turns into a hammer and a wedge of geese—an arrow. Do you get the point?” “And,” Sara followed suit, “a needle turns into something you sew with.” “Sort of,” Sir replied. He seemed more than willing to put up with Sara’s verbal whimsy in order to accomplish his mission. “If,” he continued, “the thread in your needle happens to stretch from A to Z, at least you’ll know how to fill in the missing letters.” “What if, according to my judgment,” Sara mused, “what if the letters are out of order?” “Who’s to decide?” Sir responded. “Mu order doesn’t have to agree with your concept of what should be. If your next Wednesday needs a D before the C, no harm done and I’m sure K. Oslo Terry would be quick at agree. “The nonexistent clock in Miss Whitewater’s office will go on ticking and more logs will fall into the river and more lumber will be nailed into houses with their bedrooms and the beds where we slumber next to the computer that opens up to your blog and don’t forget that polliwogs turn into Galileo Frogs. You do have a blog, don’t you?” “Are you going to correct that typo at the top of the paragraph . . . should be my?” “No,” the guest was taken aback by the editor’s eye that apparently never rests. “No,” he repeated, “not at all. I’ll wager that at least three people will research that word, and one individual will have his life changed over a trivial textual mistake,” and he tossed his banana peel onto the tray. “What’s more,” he continued, “as for people whose lives spin on perfection and order and sanctuary, I say ‘button it’ and watch as that small round piece of plastic turns into a silver dollar that rolls straight down the street toward a book store that has all kinds of printed material for sale.” He paused and diverted the subject. ---
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About the Book
On the surface the SBR appears to be an extended exercise in creative writing. Shakespeare, however, throughout his plays, reminds us that nothing is ever as it seems and this book is no exception. The discerning reader who is willing to go beyond the obvious is likely to find additional levels layered into the text. What—you may wondering—is this material all about? What is its raison d’etre? Does it have peaks and valleys or a place to hang its hat? Why aren’t the short stories more complicated than the skills of a cat? Does it fit into a category? In a word, no. Sara Bellum has tried to work within the comfort zone of formula writing but it was not to be. You see, the Review has always been restless and unwilling to buy into the idea that there is only one way to do things. The Review is its own genre and creativity (levity) is its center of gravity. Where does that leaves us? In short, the three volumes of the SBR have opted to make a subtly yet far reaching demand of its readers. Our intent is to prompt you to step up your creative efforts (the arts) and thus activate your higher energies. You will not be alone. Such a movement is happening globally and the SBR is proud to be a part of it.
About the Author
The author was born on the west coast but has lived most of his life in Northwest Arkansas where the family roots are pioneer deep. He graduated from Ark. Tech U. in 1973 and completed his master’s work in 1995 (UA-Fay). He has had a number of jobs, including teacher, all of which he chalks up to experience. His teen years in the Ozark Mountains were rich in variety. A kid could venture out and explore and was free to grow up on his own terms. The earlier years in the Bear State were of a somewhat different tone . . . yes, it was embarrassing. At the age of five, while attending a local fair, the organ grinder’s monkey unzipped the author’s fly. Everyone laughed as the red-faced youth looked around for a bale of hay to hide behind but to no avail. They were all on the back cover of this book. At the age of six, the author was convinced that he could fly. Using a towel for a cape, he found his way to the field where the hay bales lay. He climbed on top of the nearest one and jumped off. The cows looked around and began to mu. Years later, the author would understand that “Learning to fly”— a song by Pink Floyd— was a metaphor for exercising one’s imagination. And that is exactly what the Sara Bellum Review is all about: Volumes 1, 11, and 111.