The frightening thing was that the clockwork golem had clearly been built by an apprentice. The glass casing around the heart stuck out over the lip that was intended to hold it in place. The wind-up key had been built in a spot that had had a second hole drilled into it, because it had ended up not fitting in the first hole. One gear spun and did nothing. Another gear never engaged with the whole mechanism. A faulty connection to the eye socket made the golem wink constantly. But where there was an apprentice, there was a master. And Lin remembered uneasily the number of wasted, broken pottery vases his master had bid him make during his apprenticeship, while his master worked on perfecting--

Inspiration: My clockwork fish clock, which I love despite its imperfections.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: ::shrug::

The bird migrations started early that year, to match the turning of the sun. They had hoped the birds would realize that it was the time to go sooner, but they hadn't known enough about the native species to be sure. There was great rejoicing when they realized that they wouldn't accidentally wipe out a species or several hundred, for that had been one of their fears. Yet, the turning of the sun was necessary. Its light was already dimming, and if they could not turn it to allow them to shut down and replace sections, they feared that it would go out, and a great deal more than a mere hundred or so bird species would go extinct. They had hoped that the birds would move. They had not realized that it was not only the birds that responded to the phase of the sun. They had not realized that their very--

Inspiration: An article about, um, bird migrations.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: I just really like the idea of turning the sun. Are clockwork worlds overdone?