Befuddlement and The Beginning of Things

Jerry sat beside the pool into which the tower of cascading water fell and watched its perpetual flow. The bull absently rubbed his arm, damp from his tumble into the valley; though the sun was nearing its zenith and it had been a while since Jerry arrived, the mountainous ridge from whence the water issued still cast a long shadow over the pool and several yards past, and Jerry still wasn't quite dry.
"Well," said Jerry aloud to nobody, "I didn't want to go out into the sun right away. It would probably be really hot after my being in the cool water. And anyway, it's nice to take a minute to relax and just think about life, you know?" Nobody answered him. Silence reigned, but for the sound of the gushing water. Sighing after a moment, he swiped his nose with the back of a cloven hoof and then pushed himself to his feet. Taking one more look at the waterfall, Jerry turned away from the ridge and towards the open valley. "I guess I might as well leave, then," he mumbled, presumably to himself. "Maybe the sun won't be too hot after all. I could always just come back here later."
A small ways past the shadow of the mountains, Jerry found the beginnings of a packed-earth road. Planted in the yellow grass beside was a small wooden sign, reading, "Welcome to Pretzel Valley! Walk here," with an arrow pointing to the road itself. Jerry snorted and looked up at the sky.
"Really? That seems kind of obvious, doesn't it?" Whether he meant that roads are meant to be walked on or that the name of the land on which he traveled was Pretzel Valley, I'm not sure; nevertheless, he still received no answer, because he's not actually talking to anyone. He was alone. "No I'm not!" he shouted, "I'm talking to you! How can I be alone when I hear you talking all the time?" I guess he's trying to assert that the sky is sentient. He's also hearing things. Evidently, I picked a defective protagonist. Snorting again, Jerry shook his head and stepped onto the road. He hadn't taken more than five strides when another sign, identical in shape and size to the first, sprang from the ground like a stop-motion, time-lapse video of the growth of a corn stalk, which greatly startled the bull. "Where you are headed may not be where you arrive," it read. Jerry blinked in confusion from his place in the dirt where he had stumbled and fallen in surprise at the sign's appearance.
"What does that mean?" Jerry asked the sign. "Where am I headed?" The sign gave no response. After all, signs cannot speak.

But what if they could? Now, that would be something. What if, when in need of directions, all we had to do was walk up to any street sign? "Where's the nearest bookstore?" we might ask, and the sign would reply, "Oh, there's a Half-price Books just a few blocks over from here!" That would be pretty neat. Jerry certainly wouldn't be so bewildered.
On second thought, that would also kind of be just like the Speech Interpretation and Recognition Interface, and that's on smart phones so you could keep it in your pocket, and it's actually way more convenient than asking a sign would be. But I digress.

By this time, Jerry had once again taken to his feet and continued on his journey. No new signage had appeared, although Jerry would tense and look to the side of the road whenever he passed a suspicious clump of grass. He still had no idea where he was going, but at least he was getting closer.
"A little direction would still be nice," he grumbled with a significant glance at his friend, the sky. What our Bovinae hero didn't realize, and what could not truly be explained to him or any new journeyman, was that he had entered Pretzel Valley. Pretzel Valley is a directionless land. Neither left nor right mattered. As any seasoned traveler could tell you, just as the sign had tried: just because you have a destination does not mean that is where you will end up, at least not right away. Life on the road is unpredictable and strange and confusing, sometimes incredibly worth it, often disappointing, and generally flat-out difficult. It's the rest of your life, and I think we can all agree that it would be far easier to spend it all inside, where safety is guaranteed and comfort almost goes without saying; and yet, with such a remarkable volume of adventure and magic in the land just itching to be experienced, can one truly justify living without ever leaving the house?

For The Rest Of Your Life

How does one begin a story?
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.