I found some old rusted keys in the building beside the garage not long ago. They were hanging right inside the door, but I’d never noticed them. I plucked them off the nail and examined them thoroughly. Each key was a little different.
Immediately my mind started racing. What kind of story can I write about these keys? I started thinking about my 1930-something house, the doors that we could never lock, the cellar. Within seconds, a story was forming. It will take a little more time to figure out, but this is going to be fun!