Troy fell down the stairs. It was a long way down. The first few bumps were the most painful, but after a while he could anticipate when the next step would hit, and after a longer while it started to almost be pleasant. Nice rhythmic lumbar percussion.
When Troy reached the bottom, he was greeted by a wooden duck. Gret by a wooden duck. At the bottom of the stairs.
When Troy reached the bottom of the stairs he saw the duck. He went over and looked at the duck. Wooden. Duck. Troy fell to a wooden duck. The duck could have fit twenty men inside it. This wasn't what he had ordered.
Troy had ordered a wooden horse, but instead a wooden duck arrived. He would have to phone the supplier and ask what happened. Why did they send the wrong thing? Were they out of horses? Maybe they just got the wrong idea or forgot. Either way.
Troy fell to a wooden duck.
This is a five-minute freewrite prompt thanks to 
Image by
A wooden duck with a telescopic eye; the duck appears to be wearing a Roman gladiator helmet with a comb on top. The duck may be some kind of underwater exploration apparatus, as ducks often go underwater, and there is a porthole at the front of its breast. It is raining, and there are people carrying umbrellas mulling around the duck.