Write four lines of prose about: the wishing well.
Heading back to the market tomorrow with a truck loaded down with produce to sell. Lots of apricots, apples, plums, cabbages, even a few pints of blackberries and a couple of cucumbers.
The forecast is calling for a hot day, so here's hoping the crowds are hungry.
Drop a dollar in the well and your wish is guaranteed to come true - but only if you don't tell a soul what you wished for!
What absolute nonsense. The soulless monster getting rich off of all these desperate saps should be arrested or, better yet, taken out back and put down.