Brick by brick we built a beacon, a Tower on the Great Plains in defense against the vastness. "Leave Manifest Destiny to those unafraid to die! Dwell in security." But those bricks could not save us from that confusing wind. Tongues and spirits broken, we depart to die in obscurity.
This is my second minisaga, written to fulfill in small part a vision I've had for a while of the story of Genesis 11 played out on the Great Plains in the 19th century. The vision isn't clear enough for a full story, but I hope it was clear enough for 50 words.
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