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Posted: Aug 15 2014, 12:49 PM
“Go West,” they said in whispered words. Hushed tones that echoed through the ears of the downtrodden, the fearful, and the guilty.
“Go West, and find what it is you’re searching for.”
And so they did, in droves of hundreds. In caravans filled to the brim with food, water, shelter, and anything else they could fit. They left their homes and their families in search of something that could fill the empty void that made their chests ache and their eyes search the horizon. There was something out there, something to be found, something to be tamed. It could have been anything, but instead it was their Destiny.
If they had taken a moment to pause, to think about what they were doing, perhaps they would not have all died.
Eventually the roads became trodden with feet that had already passed it, eventually towns were established. At the farthest reaches of the world, where the west suddenly turned into a sea of waving grass, people began to grow. They set up a town they called New Hope, but it was the hard that managed to get there. It was the rough people that survived only through grit and gunpowder. They heard no orders from the capital nor listened to the few that would attempt to change them. They set up this town, and they decided what its future would become.
And as always, remember.