Love and Stories
“Where is love?” sings young Oliver in Lionel Bart’s musical rendition of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist.
In the story, Oliver is a young workhouse orphan who escapes to London. There he falls in with a troop of thieves and other assorted villains. He is, in many ways, alone and lonely and wishing for the one thing all humans need more than any other–love.
Love. That’s one of those abstract nouns. A concept rather than a concrete thing you can hold. And love can certainly be fleeting. Or can it?
I suppose that depends on how you define it. To me, real love isn’t fleeting. Real love lasts. Real love makes us better, gives us strength, grows, shares. It’s warm rather than hot, supportive rather than stifling, forgiving rather than vindictive, self-sacrificing rather than selfish. It’s less about the bounds of relationships than it is about the bonds.
This month’s stories explore some of the many faces of love.
We hope you love them as much as we do.
© 2020 Suzanne W. Vincent
Suzanne Vincent is the editor-in-chief of Flash Fiction Online. That’s what people think anyway. Actually, she’s really a pretty ordinary middle-aged woman packing a few extra pounds and a few more gray hairs than she’s comfortable with. As a writer, she leans toward the fantasy spectrum, though much of what she writes is difficult to classify. Slipstream? Isn’t that where we stick stories when we just can’t figure out where else they go? Suzanne’s first professional publication was right here at FFO, published before she joined the staff: “I Speak the Master’s Will,” — a story she’s still very proud of. While she doesn’t actually have time to blog anymore, she once did. You can still read her ancient posts on writing at The Slushpile Avalanche. Suzanne keeps a house full of kids (3), a husband (1), and pets (too many to number) in Utah, USA. Yes, she’s a Mormon. No, there isn’t another wife. Mormons haven’t actually practiced polygamy since the 1890s. Too bad. She’d love to have another woman around to wash dishes and do laundry.