Fall Journal 2015 – Issue No. 8
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No. 8 FALL 2015 Oval Portrait ─ Premature Burial ─ Purloined Letter 3Elements Review Issue No. 8 Fall 2015 3Elements Literary Review Born in 2013 A Letter from the Editor-in-Chief PUBLISHED QUARTERLY Spring, summer, fall, and winter by 3Elements Review Phone: 847-920-7320 Welcome to issue no. 8! www.3ElementsReview.com This issue © 2015 by 3Elements Literary Review Thank you for taking the time to read our eighth issue! We sincerely TYPESETTING LAYOUT & DESIGN believe that you are going to find some great material in this issue. This Marlon Fowler issue is packed with various writers, artists and poets whose material we truly enjoyed reading! COVER PHOTO Crow Poe by Chris Roberts The next issue’s elements are: Mania, Tower, and Exposure. BACK COVER Khia by Gabby Deimeke Follow us on Twitter and Facebook for all of the latest updates! Sincerely, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Mikaela Shea Mikaela Shea MANAGING EDITOR C.J. Matthews EDITOR EDITOR Parker Stockman Megan Collins EDITOR EDITOR Kelly Roberts James A.H. White ©2015 by 3Elements Literary Review. All rights reserved by the respective authors in this publication. No part of this periodical may be reproduced without the consent of 3Elements Literary Review. The journal’s name and logo and the various titles and headings herein are trademarks of 3Elements Literary Review. The short stories and poems in this publication are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imaginations or used ficticiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is coincidental. Contents Contents Art Photography 27 Wallpaper Poe Chris Roberts 35 Khia Gabby Deimeke 51 cat stole my letter Barbara Ruth 62 Blurry Season Rachel Mayes 83 Underwater Poe Chris Roberts 72 Where The Two Worlds Touch Gabrielle Heard 90 Crow Poe Chris Roberts 106 Premature Burial Ali Sohail 93 ladies don't Sweat, they glow Barbara Ruth Fiction Poetry 9 Oval Portrait Mort Castle 28 Free or Something Like It Siaara Freeman 38 Avery Danielle Dyal 36 Black and Blue Julia Weiss 56 A Million Broken Things Kaitlin Moore 52 A Man a Woman & Fog Disappearing Lynne Knight 64 Full Scott Petty 63 Phantom Limbs Hannah Cohen 75 Heat Wave Michael Hein 73 Hadron Super Collider Dennis Trujillo 86 When it All Falls Down Liv Radue 84 The Garden Julie Lunde 94 Save Yours Truly Harris Daver 91 At Lizzie's Grave Lindsay Miyamoto Nonfiction Contributors 31 Saint Sophia Trevor Church 108 Bios Back to TOC 9 Oval Portrait Mort Castle A Brief Prologue Edgar Allan Poe, born January 19, 1809, Boston, Massachusetts, died October 7, 1889, Giverny, France. —Wikipedia Genius is immediate, but talent takes time. Genius or talent or neither, the literary world remains divided about the efforts of Edgar Allan Poe III, but the reading public has rendered a verdict: Last year, Poe’s novel Eldorado outsold Sabatini’s Mistress Wilding, Zane Grey’s The Call of the Canyon, and Booth Tarkington’s The Midlander. Secretive about his work, Poe has revealed that his new novel is entitled The Oval Portrait; it will be published in March of next year by Grosset & Dunlap. —”Letter from Paris” —Genet The New Yorker April 11, 1925 10 Mort Castle Back to TOC Oval Portrait 11 • • • among them. Let it be said that he did much to encourage the avant garde in all areas of the arts. It was the start of summer with weather more like spring and Let it also be said that he did so in order to have people to I was very poor and very happy because I was in Paris and had whom he might condescend. a woman who loved me, and many days the writing went well. No matter the Fordian virtues, he smelled. He smelled awfully The best work time was early morning when the shopkeepers bad. were wetting down the streets and the smell of fresh bread was And when he spoke to me over the small cafe tables you’d everywhere, but on this rare evening, I was writing with one of my have thought his breath was the result of his kissing a goat. stubby pencils at a small table outside the Lilas Cafe. I was writing “You were writing, Hem,” he said. well. Perhaps I did not yet have the one true sentence I needed “Was,” I said. that led to everything else, but I was stalking it, creeping up on He slapped my shoulder. “That’s the stuff.” that sentence. “I’m just full of the stuff,” I said. Then I heard the cafe door behind me. I heard a huff and puff “Let me buy you a drink,” he said. like a leaky steam engine and an unsteady shuffle and then I got “I will allow you to,” I said. the odor of him. He waved over a waiter, a thin man with a frozen face. Ford Ford Madox Ford, as he called himself then, greatly resembled Madox Ford did not condescend toward waiters. He was of that Humpty-Dumpty prior to the great fall. He had a heavy, stained class of English society which did not notice servants at all. They English mustache and wanted to be thought of as another G.K. were no more worthy of attention than a boot jack or a telephone. Chesterton. Ford’s watery eyes made it seem as though his whole Ford ordered a fine a l’eau. I had been drinking beer. I ordered face were beginning to dissolve. And the aroma he radiated was a fine a l’eau. not that of a British man of letters. “Hem, I have something for you, Hem.” “Might I sit?” he asked, as he sat down at my table. “That’s good, Ford Ford,” I said. He disliked my chiding him Thus endeth the writing, I thought, pues y nada. about his assumed name. “Everybody likes something.” A moment to repent and digress: I am a journalist and I need He gave me a queer look. render a more objective opinion of Ford Madox Ford than has “You know Edgar Allan Poe,” he said. been the case so far. Let it be said that in The Good Soldier our Mr. “The third,” I said. “I do not know the Third, Ford Ford. I know Ford wrote a good book. In fairness, let it also be said, he wrote of him.” a large number of bad ones. Let is be said that with the literary And who did not know of Poe Three? His novels typically magazine the transatlantic review he championed innovative 20th sold two million copies. In English. There were copies in other century writing and 20th century writers, myself, let it be said, languages, perhaps even Urdu and Hottentot. There were motion 12 Mort Castle Back to TOC Oval Portrait 13 pictures. needed because Scott had replaced the top on the Renault KJ Everyone who worked at the scrivener’s trade, Bartleby no although Zelda had not wanted him to do so: Zelda thought a doubt included, knew of Edgar Allan Poe III. We all applauded his topless boat tailed Renault would add to the Fitzgerald image success. Writers are a benevolent and big-hearted lot. as American eccentrics. Zelda also thought herself a master “You’ve read him, Hem?” chef because she could mix vinegar and oil in nearly the right “A little,” I said. I stopped halfway through the first chapter of proportions for salad. Zelda thought herself a writer and she Eldorado. I feared contagion. thought herself a dancer. Zelda thought herself herself herself. “I would like to publish a profile of Edgar Allan Poe III in the I liked Scott. Though I never said it to him, there are things transatlantic review. I would like you to write it.” you do not speak of, Scott was the least conceited, most talented I sighed. writer I ever knew, which made him endearing and quite sad. “You know, Hem. Does he think of himself as American or Zelda used his humility to humiliate him and sucked away at French? How does he consider his literary heritage ...” his talent until he could only write bad stories for The Saturday I said, “Does he drink? Does he use opium? Does he smoke Evening Post and worse movies for Hollywood. Gitanes? Has he had an affair with Isadora Duncan or Josephine Zelda did not like me. I did not like Zelda. Scott said she was Baker or both? Can he play the ‘La Marseillaise’ on the jew’s “the first American flapper,” but Zelda belonged to another breed: harp?” Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald was a vampire, a vamp, a la Theda Bara, “You have a sense of humor, Hem.” the femme fatale who drains her victim and leaves him either a “It is a gift.” shambling ruin or a corpse. “I liked that profile you did of Mussolini for the Toronto Daily It was to give Scott respite from Zelda that I suggested he Star. It had wit. ‘There is something wrong, even histrionically, accompany me on my trip to profile Monsieur Poe. I drove. Scott with a man who wears white spats with a black shirt.’” Ford did not like to drive drunk and he had begun to drink even before chuckled. He sounded tubercular. we left Paris. He had his engraved hip flask: To 1st Lt. F. Scott “Mussolini is quite the comic, Ford Ford.” Fitzgerald. 65th Infantry. Camp Sheridan. Forget-me-not. Zelda. Ford offered me one hundred and fifty dollars and I agreed to 9-13-18. write a profile of Edgar Allan Poe III.