Lysander's Quest

The Part Where the Conflict is Introduced

Once upon a time, the brave and valiant hero Lysander sat atop his trusty silver steed in the center of his village and was prompted to wonder exactly what he was looking at. Surely this could not be his town, he thought. It didn't seem as it always had. Of course, the tall, stone-brick shops and homes that crowded the perimeter of the dusty brown roads hadn't changed or shifted in any way. There still were crowds and noise and the occasional holler of the newsboy or the clopping of hooves echoing in the bright morning air. That hadn't changed, either. But there was definitely a different air about the land, that much was certain. Rather than warmth and delight, the atmosphere seemed strange, almost in a silly sort of way. As if it beckoned our hero to frolic about and create dirt angels in the middle of the road. But he knew he shouldn't give in to the temptation, especially considering what had happened the last time this feeling overcame him.

"Good morning to you, Lysander!" a voice called from down below. Lysander, upon hearing his name, searched around for the owner of the voice. Finding no one at his eye level, he looked down. But in place of where the voice should have come from, there was only a pig, sitting back with its hind legs and looking up at Lysander with a polite grin. Lysander would have brushed the swine off, if not for his wondering whether or not a pig could actually smile and his sporting of a rather fitting black formal suit. As well as the suit, a gold-rimmed monocle sat beneath the pig's left eye.

Lysander recognized the attire almost immediately and set it with the voice. "Charles!" he called down with a confused frown upon his face. "Queer weather this morning, wouldn't you say?" He, of course, referred to the slightly thin fog which hovered just above their heads.

"I agree whole-heartedly, my good man!" Charles replied through a body which was not at all his own.

"So, I see you have been turned into a pig."

The creature examined himself curiously, as If he hadn't yet noticed, then spoke.

"Why, yes," he said, looking back up at him. "I believe I have." Lysander gave him a brief, yet uncertain nod and shifted his gaze back up to the world at his eye level, looking around again.

"Splendid," he mumbled as he continued his scan. He had gradually lost interest in his conversational companion as he began to finally realize just what had changed around him. He didn't even notice Charles' gleeful "good day" as he strolled off in the other direction on all fours. Lysander stared in awe at the world around him. It really was different. Much stranger, indeed. Some of the houses, instead of bearing the gray, stony sheen they usually display, were covered in spots and stripes and other patterns with various obnoxiously bright hues; though, to be fair, the village painter had recently gone officially insane after spilling one of his paints on the ground and declaring that the color had clashed with that of the floor. The blacksmith's lawn was so overgrown that the tips of the grass and weeds reached the height of the building itself, and Lysander swore he could hear an entire forest full of animals inside. A wooden carriage traveled through the perpendicular trail of the intersection he stood before which was--as incredibly bizarre as it was--shaped like a catfish leaping out of the water, its mouth frozen in an open 'O' shape. The village was filled with ridiculous circumstances which were both extremely irregular and out of control.

"What...?" he whispered breathlessly to himself, squinting his eyes as he doubted his vision. Of course, the thought had crossed his mind that perhaps the surrounding fog was obstructing his view and causing him to see things that weren't really there. Although, the fog was barely thick enough to do such a thing. Besides, he did only now complete an entire conversation with a pig wearing a monocle-a monocle. Some livestock simply have no sense of fashion.

As he watched his surroundings, he grew more and more curious by the second. Even the sound of quickened hoof beats from behind failed to snap him from his trance. It was only when the approaching horse had skidded up alongside his own and its rider called out to Lysander that he shook himself from his awe.