Once upon a time seems so cliché. Of course, every era past was once upon a time. Every place and every story is stuck in a moment, but is it truly necessary to point that out whenever a moment is recalled? Maybe. Probably not. But then again, these days it is much more common to just jump into a moment without really appreciating it's position in time, aside from its convenient time-stamp. Perhaps then, for the sake of what we lose as a toll for the freeway speeds of technology and development, I shall take a second to recall that moment after all; such moments can be quite profound, and God only knows when we'll find a second to take a moment again.
Once upon a time...
Pretzel Valley was not a prime vacation spot. It never had been, and I daresay it never will be, although not for lack of scenery or pleasant weather, nor due to poor relations with the native population; in actuality, Pretzel Valley was not a place one would ever visit, simply because, as far as anyone knew, there was no one outside of Pretzel Valley. It was a vast and varied swatch of land, crisscrossed with twisting pathways, roads and rabbit trails, the origin of its name. It was surrounded on all sides by high mountain passes, and the Valley itself possessed a variety of habitats: forest, desert, marshland and others. Also, most of the flora in the area was colored many shades of yellow.
Now, the roads themselves were described by a quite befuddling and inexplicable phenomenon: literally any path taken could lead to literally any other place in the Valley, and never twice in a row. All attempts to effectively map out the intersections and connections between landmarks failed before any cartographers had reached the end of their journey, and anyway, even a successful map from one would immediately be rendered obsolete, for the entire road experience would be degrees of different for those who might come after. And yet, despite this overwhelming evidence that it would probably be better to just stay at home all day, every day, everyone in Pretzel Valley was some sort of explorer, adventurer or wanderer. Each one's journey was unique to the individual aside from two key points: all journeys began with tumbling into the Valley via waterfall on the Eastern side, and all journeys came to an end at a gigantic chasm in the West known simply as "The Gulch". Everybody came out of the water; nobody was born in the Valley.
How is that logical? A waterfall that dumps people from nowhere into a valley in the middle of mountains? From where does the water come? How did the travelers get into the water, and from whence did they originate? Surely they must have other homes? And yet, in the Valley, everyone simply is. There was never any "was", no recollection of pre-Valley life, only vague feelings of warmth and safety from which all were violently expelled, pulled into the rushing whatever that eventually spills into Pretzel Valley. None can explain it; I certainly can't. I told you about the paths, did I not? The roads and the waterfall are related. Some kind of magic works in the Valley, and it doesn't appear to make any sense. All is not in vain, however, for in this we find the true nature of the journey: not simply to follow or experience and become confused by the magic, but to learn from it, learn about it, to increase in wisdom, and maybe, after all is said and done, to know the secret behind it all.
Now we have found our purpose, and the moment is over. This is the waterfall; now, here is the Valley. There's no turning back, so good luck! Should you find yourself wanting for anything, I will be right here in the sky, my ethereal authorship always observing, narrating, and otherwise orchestrating this grand adventure, this Master Quest, for you. Are you ready? Then let the magic begin.
