52 bad short stories.

It was a slow passionate kiss. That is what he noticed the most. His wife always said goodbye in the morning, but this morning was different. This morning it was like she was afraid he wouldn't come back.  "I hate it when you have to go inside the mines like you do today. Keep your helmet on and pay attention. I want you to come back to us." Mike knew she was worried. All he had in him was a joke, "Oh I should tell you I'm going into the mines everyday if I'm going to get kisses like that. I almost don't want to leave today."  She slapped him gently on the arm. "I can always call your boss and check the roster."  He smiled at her one last time and stepped out of their living pod and into the hallway. The tunnel felt a little extra damp this morning, but it was the same temperature and smell he'd grown accustomed to, the ozone and burning smell. Everything was controlled by machines, and they were below the surface, safe from the radiati...

Edgar's whole life revolved around the plants. Ever since he could remember his father trained him in plants. Most of the other children saw the flame of continuance when they were 12. Edgar knew about it well before then, he also knew what fueled it. This was a secret of the colony. It was something everyone knew but no one talked about. It was a chilling discovery for Edgar to learn part of the fuel for the colony was death itself.  "Death is a spark.  All sparks are valuable. The spark never dies."  These are the whispers on the lips of all the colonists when they visit the flame. Small prayers they utter and lift up. Hoping their lives are valuable.  Edgar understood these words more than anyone. His father was an intellect, and his parents were among the first 200 to create the colony. He saw the domes rise as a boy and learned to live underground. He was valued among the entire community because he helped develop a hybrid of the sweet potato which contained mor...