If you want something done right...

It was the strangest thing I had ever seen, with tubes and wires coming out of its every nook and cranny. Steam circulated through its copper veins and escaped through its metallic mouth, as it pronounced the name of its master, over and over. It slowly dragged itself towards me, its multiple limbs wobbling around awkwardly, scratching the floor and the walls with a screeching sound. And I just stood there, admiring it. The work of a mad man, a scientist, a genius.

A rival.

And that’s when they hit me. The creative juices, that is. Ideas raced through my mind, designs, wrench sizes and bolts! I had to construct. I had to build. I had to create life. I knew all too well that it was pointless to resist this urge, even in a dire situation like this one, where I may very well get my skull bashed in by this… this excuse of an automaton.

Yes, yes! I could now see its flaws. The leaking pipes, the lack of oiling in the joints, its weak knees and elbows! I could make it better, I could make it PERFECT. And I had all the tools I needed.

Without a second thought (second thoughts are for fools!) I leaped onto the beast’s back, wrench in hand, genius in mind, and began my work. It struggled, of course, but how could it hope to resist my intellect when even I could not achieve such a feat? Nuts to bolts, screws to threads, clanking and puffing… and I was done.

I was done and all I could do was laugh. I laughed and I laughed until I couldn’t laugh anymore… and then I laughed some more.

“Now then,” I patted the beast’s head as it howled my name, “shall we pay a certain someone a visit?"

Story Starter #1: Damn. She didn't know passports even had an expiration date.

Not fake ones, anyway. She did think that shady salesman was a bit too shady, even for her shady necessities. Someone was going to get gutted, she thought. As delighted as she was about the idea, she had a more pressing matter at her hands right now. The man kept running his scanner over her passport, glancing suspiciously at both the guards and her. She had to act, fast. She quickly examined her surroundings, and noticed a man of apparently middle eastern origins, too, getting his passport checked. His family was standing close to him, waiting for the painfully long procedure to finish.
"TER-RO-RIST! THAT MAN HAS A BOMB!", she yelled at the top of her lungs, while pointing at the now bewildered man.
"NO-NO-NO", he foolishly tried to explain himself, but it was too late. Three large security guards had already pinned him to the ground, in front of his horrorized family. Panic envolved the airport, as masses of people were instinctively and ineffectively running in circles, allowing her to slip out of the airport unnoticed. She still needed to get to Europe somehow, though...

Children's Books

Everyone. Even apples. What is this supposed to teach you, anyway? I guess getting published is not that hard after all.

Some childhood ranting

As I was looking through various rides from different amusement parks, nostalgia hit me when I saw a roller coaster that looked very similar to one from another park back in Moscow. Similarly retarded.

Sleepers

The summer sun shone on his face, its warm light completely enveloping him as he sat on the wooden park bench.
Her hand brushed over his before holding it firmly, so as to never let go of it. Her blonde hair reflected the sunbeams as she smiled, and planted a kiss on his lips. The grass tickled her feet and she let out a short laugh. They kissed again.

Ragnar Wolfsbane, Of Gods And Ashes

The deer was still breathing when Ragnar approached it. The arrow had pierced its heart, leaving the animal in agony.
"A perfect shot", he thought before slicing its throat and ending the beast's suffering.
It twitched a few times and finally gave in to death, letting out a big sigh, its blood tainting the snow around it.
The hunter overlooked his prey. He had tracked it for hours, fighting through the cold and fatigue armed with his determination and courage. A single arrow is all it took for him to claim his trophy. He put the corpse over his shoulders, and hurried back to the village for the scent of the deer's blood would surely attract wolves and other undesireable predators. The myst caused by the recent snowfall would not let him see very far, but the village's ever present smoking chimneys let him find the way back, even over the tall mountains surrounding it. The sun was closing on with the horizon when he finally reached his wooden cabin on the border of the village's valley, quite far from the rest of the houses and much closer to the woods than its safe to be.
He sat down at his table, breathing heavily. It pained him to see his body being past its prime. This brief moment of peace was interrupted by loud banging on the door, however.