I think I've mentioned here that what imagination I have came from my father. He always saw the largest rabbit, the biggest fish, was once given a lift by one public enemy or another--or perhaps a 1930s traveling salesman just trying to scratch out a living during the Depression, but if you were my dad you had to open your mind to possibilities.
At any rate, the old man could tell a tale or offer a writer's embellishment even though he never picked up pen.
Once upon a time, he had occasion to visit an old, deserted house, just a kid out of adventures. He never had a dime for a pulp magazine, read Tarzan and Dracula from the library and saw the occasional movie.
Slowly he turned
Half terrified, he crept into the old house, explored a few rooms and then came upon a tin lid, left behind perhaps when the previous owner vacated for better prospects.
Unwittingly he invented his own Frisbee, picking up the lid and sailing it through the house. It curved along through the air and disappeared into another room where he heard it hit the wall then thump to the floor.
He was past being scared then and was just looking around, but a second later the lid he'd clearly heard hit the floor came sailing back out of the other room.
He didn't wait to find out more. He let his feet do the thinking and beat a path back home.
Now perhaps there was a hobo sequestered in that old house. Perhaps the lid didn't hit the floor but simply bounced back.
Or perhaps, the house's previous occupant was still there, not wanting to be disturbed by intruding boys in search of adventure. Ooooo WHEEEEEE oooo!