There was an old tale about a guy who wanted to be rich like his dad, but had inherited a farm that after he took over, was constantly suffering losses. He found himself seated in the house, as usual, looking at a billing from a supplier, and looking at his coins, and he spent the next 48 hours stressing over what he was possibly going to do to avoid having to sell the farm. His pigs had broken loose and nearly trampled his young farm hand to death, his sluice had broken in the middle of the irrigation run and he lost half the water, and his spring crops had been burned by the hot sun before they could be collected.
He thought and thought, and finally attributed it to a curse from a neighbor. Having no idea how to lift a curse, he went to see the local witch to find out if she could lift the curse.
The witch, seeing the young man, clothes disheveled and bleary eyed, laughed as he told his tale of the curse, and how every day it seemed like he only received ever more bad news at his home.
She promised that with a small fee of one week's worth of foods from every season's crops, she would lift this curse with a magical item that had been left to her by her teacher, her wise and feared Warlock father.
The young man said that was expensive, he was already losing money, but she assured him that he could pay starting at the end of the current season, and that the gains he would make would easily cover her wages.
He agreed to the contingency, and after some time alone in her private room in her house, she came back with a red clay shaker with the imprint of a small sunflower on the side. She brought out a candle, and reached into a small sack she was now carrying on her belt. She told the young man he had to close his eyes and wish deeply for the magic to work, and she started to chant in an ancient tongue that would sound like meaningless babble to anyone listening. He agreed, closed his eyes, clenched his fists, held his breath and wished wished wished...