This prompt is mostly pulled out of my ass, but there we go.

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Bob Dylan posted:
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
And where have you been my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard


I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin'
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin'
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children


I heard the sound of a thunder that roared out a warnin'
I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin'
I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin'
I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin'
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley



I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded in hatred



I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin'
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are a many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
And the executioner's face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I'll tell and speak it and think it and breathe it
And reflect from the mountain so all souls can see it
And I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin'
But I'll know my song well before I start singing
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

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Here's a song by renowned poor vocalist Robert Dylan. While the last prompt was all about writing within constraints, now here's a prompt where you're given a bunch of choice. This means, ideally, better stories because you can write to your strengths. Although probably not.

Anyway, every contestant gets to choose one line. ONCE A LINE IS TAKEN, IT IS TAKEN. You have a huge amount of prompts to get going with here, so I expect decent end results. The stories practically write themselves from some of these for fuck's sake. All genres are fine.

Your extra-long word count special this week is 2000 words.

Don't feel pressured to write even half that if you feel you don't need to. I don't credit stories extra for their length. In fact, don't write it that long unless you really want to. The more 2k stories I have to judge/crit, the crankier I will get. The unusually long word count is there to allow you wiggle room to fully flesh out your story. If you got a 1600 word first draft and think, ah fuck it don't need to edit this shit - I'm going to know. I always know. I see into your soul and read the pitiful story within.