Jelly

In the world named Eou lived a little immortal—

Jelly. The sun never rose, but the sky held other sparklers

in abundance. They burned very quietly with a soothing

melody; they were the sounds of the thunder-like

structures in the sky—some maroon, some pink, some

yellow in color. They were the light of Eou, to which every

Eoulian became possessed, compelled to bake night and

day, whether today or a year away.

Jelly dwelled in what was left behind by his ancestors,

three in particular, who hadn't, in fact, died. Immortals

don't fall senselessly asleep like mortals for such a long,

long time. It was an angelic place to abide. The "Enderay"

period of the day in this world made "Ete" (the art in the

sky) look like it was melting into colors never seen before.

It displayed different shades that appeared at each

interval, due to its lore that only the Eoulians had

knowledge of. Jelly was like jelly—red on the cheeks and

hair and, more crucially, he liked to wiggle. He was made

of the salty substances that crafted Ete before falling out

of exhaustion. From the point where they lifted away in

Ete, a mark of sickening yellow appeared in grief for their

loss. The one that fell looked like a little galaxy, which

no longer changed color even during the Enderay period.

Jelly's three ancestors made something as sweet as jelly

out of it. Before they flew off to other lands, away from

Eou, Jelly practiced baking, and the wind of it taught him

how to make highly delectable meals using ingredients

from the nature of Eou. Even so, Jelly couldn't have much

of it in his belly. The remaining ones were for the "Lord

of Eou", simply a void in the middle of the land (which it

wasn't—the ground was made out of their trees, growing

past the limit and taking up the ground entirely.

Nobody knows what there once was instead of greenery.

They at least felt like petals to the planter).

In the short span of three days, Jelly was taught to keep

the "Lord of Eou" well-fed by his ancestors. He did all

that was necessary, necessary necessities equivalent to

respiration. Jelly cannot be held in a world when that

world goes right into the void, which is a consequence of

disobeying the Lord.

The crystal-clear sky, flawlessly painted with miracles

upon him, would make a tune go dancing around the

world. The moist leaves which had covered the boy would

flutter and straighten, curling off Jelly. To the dim light

he'd wake up to every morning this way. The light never

felt too bright, but like a cosy space above. He could have

gone somewhere this day, somewhere to which he woke up

and would think of a way to try getting to those places

beyond any skies of day and night, but at last wouldn't.

With hanging leaves on his bed of fabric, he stood and

went to baking.

He really needed to bake something good.

Where the leaves couldn't grow, the place was made

of blunt rocks. Jelly started his business. To see an

Eoulian bake is such a wonderful memory to store.

From something that could be anywhere in the sky, there

would come down 'pins' (which were the food for the

living ones). That was the outcome of the world within

the sky higher above the big structures; therefore, the

taste always varied. Jelly collected them, as much as he

could, in his basket, bigger than the boy. The rest

buried themselves underground. Jelly turned pins into

meals by mixing pins, each with a different taste. They

could really be turned into anything. He was occupied,

both in hands and mind, as he worked to make another

perfect dish. The melody of Eou filled Jelly's thoughts

with a firing zeal. He pursued. He never knew time, and

never felt tired, so he worked for exhausting hours.

His perfect dish was being garnished in the grand

kitchen of rocks (rocks were a valuable commodity here).

It began to look like jelly to Jelly—Jelly was quite like

jelly himself. Jiggling, the jelly would turn on its own

to show the sophisticated work of mastery on it. The

jelly looked like it wore a glamorous frock made of

sweets in the way Jelly made it. It was 'pins' turned into

sublime treats of heaven. Jelly delightfully adored his

piece, which seemed to have a life of its own (it could

turn!). Jelly tasted the portion that had been kept

separate, one that was plopped in the bowl, and the taste

had Jelly jump with flattery. Jelly grinned, he giggled,

he blushed—he was proud. It was such a perfect meal,

Jelly. He meticulously brought the glory on a dish to

the Lord. There he stood, near the void. He dumped it

onto the void. And the sheer agony was enough to drown

him—because the magic from which he was made reacted

terribly with dumping a friend.

Suddenly, he could feel a change deep within the gems

of his skin, as if something harsh had been forced upon

him.

That morning, that day, he wasn't waking up to yesterday's

sleeping duty. 'Pins' that fell were different each time,

in taste and shape. But yet, one day, he felt it in his

confusing head of voids that there was one day that he

had tasted the same dish as today. That one day, he made

the same mistake.

---

One day, another jelly was definitely made, before this

day. From pins made with overwhelming precision and

affection, from the efforts and time of the thunder-like

structures, after the source was wrung-out pieces of the

emotions of the world above. The one that carried their

own life, with no consciousness. He didn't know—didn't

know that he shouldn't throw it this way, because it

carried the concern of the structures above so vastly.

But he had to; the music kept playing.

Then something happened.

To Jelly—the suffocation couldn't be borne anymore.

He couldn't think of anything except this world, so

painfully; it would give him headaches and a green

sickness from himself. This day and every day he'd think

that he'd go somewhere else, make contact with matters,

and do his will. Only if the spellbinding, horrendous,

comfortingly unhinging, venomous tune wasn't played

all day! It would grow pale-yellow spots of helplessness

in his head, off his knowing. That day, he felt so nude

in his world; he didn't want to devote himself to baking.

He fainted that one day, which was coded to be yet

another day in the life of this baker.

When he woke up, he saw mortals; he could swear that

he felt something—something close to life! Mortal

humans on some planet. A pale-blue dream of a blue sky

and a dazzling "sun" [??]. He didn't know anything;

flowers bloomed gracefully in the garden aside. He saw

three figures, not too different from him but taller.

Three kids, around 9 years old, somewhere in some place.

On the veranda, they were playing tag. And that was the

first time he could see life so close, excluding his three

ancestors during the first three days after he was made.

He wished desperately—he wished to have companions!

Like them, he didn't know them. Didn't know their nature,

nor did he know anything as 'harm'.

He recalled dumping his jelly friend today to the void.

He was sorry, so sorry. The memory of the jelly flew

away like vapor by such forceful pressure that he could

never understand. This time, he prayed to the

thunder-like structures he called Tons. He wished for

flowers; he prayed to remember this blue of the sky,

the green of leaves, and all the colors of the children

on the veranda. He felt less tied in here, his shoulders

were less weighted. So, without a question, his

desperation crept up, taking the whole of him in an

instant; reducing him to a sobbing mess trying to save

fading light.

Then, he woke up to the dim light. Eventually, he wept

a bit. Tears rolled down one by one due to the cruelty

upon him of life. His cheeks turned redder, his nose

too, and his eyes blurry with tears. In the back of his

head, he unfairly knew he needed to bake again. He was

an unfortunate boy.

For the first time, as a miracle, he could see himself.

When he woke up today from this dream, something was

different. He wore lovely garments made by his ancestors

that never got dirty. They were lovingly made with a

pleasing look, but yet looked as plain as white paper.

His sleeves were blue, and a rich, niche material of

'water', which had only been made by his ancestors,

decorated his top with a sunny brown. As bottoms, he

wore indigo jorts. Maybe, given time, he could have

made his way to learning, crafting necklaces and other

accessories. That's a dream he can't see by himself.

His red hair was long, stretching out to his wrist,

looking merry. As he was so taken away with thoughts,

he heard a voice in him say that he didn't want to bake.

That's too weird; how could he even think that? That's

like saying—"I'll breathe no air."

He was distracted as usual, but this time for a completely

different cause. How can there be... from Jelly's watery

eyes, I say. How can there be three whole beating hearts

to see to this baker out of the blue? Three whole. One,

two, and three. And the magic he was made of shined;

he shined. They looked terribly like the part in the

structures of the sky he had fallen from. And then he

stood up, jerking off leaves, patting off tears which

never really left.

He sobbed and dropped and was crust, but only by the

brightest, happiest sight of his life.

The three kids—Peal, Caro, and Nalo—they were in the

world—Eou...! They saw little red-faced Jelly, cheeks

soaked with bewildered tears. And to them, the world

felt like those in tales, except that it felt real, painted

with their own presence included. They could see more;

they were fools in this world. They saw the world above

and above Jelly's tons.

It rained on the floor of what seemed paradise above

their awestruck heads, the underway period as on play.

While the rain fell where it could not stretch out to the

skin of the kids, the sky melted ever so unrealistically;

it reminded Peal of the Northern Lights somewhere in

her mind, but not identical enough. They melted into

more colors. That view, if it had frames, would already

be perfect in its job to catch a person entranced,

enticing them from continuity of the cycle for an

enchanted period of lived time for an Eoulian! Only if

they were given to raise their heads as high as newcomers.

The ground was so vast, and since there weren't things

like mountains or hills here, one could see so far to

the front. The ground floor was in motion; it felt like

the most subtle swing. Jelly never noticed that; that

wasn't something for someone born here to notice. It

was simply the way of life.

Caro, Peal, and Nalo weren't from here, though—they

were aliens from another world. A world that is Earth.

They had different reactions too.

Caro gasped, Peal—pale with shock, and Nalo looked

around frantically—each glance would get a treasure of

more wonders. Jelly looked at the children like he was

staring at stars, who were no less charming than Eou.

The sheer ability to see them! Jelly could have even

touched their hair or turned the story for him to be the

'master baker' of this world (the best title he knew).

He could tell them anything and they would believe;

what else would they do? He could introduce his spatula

in the kitchen to be the inanimate-looking, warm beat

of life in his hand. That's what he'd tell himself. That

way, it could be real to a whole of four! That's a massive

jump from one! He could do so much, so extremely much.

But he did not. He could not. As he felt his heart race,

he became so shy under all the tears piling up for decades

(little Jelly was an immortal).

Peal hid herself unconsciously behind Caro. Even as she

did, she couldn't help but adore him, even if the girl

felt frightened simultaneously. Caro was the tallest in

the group, with a high ponytail in contact with Peal's

two buns. Caro tried to shield her friend instinctively,

even though Jelly himself did not feel like a threat.

However, the world is colossal for children at the age of

nine. That automatically makes everything terrifying.

Nalo was quick to hide himself behind Caro too, who

still wouldn't stop looking around the fairytale-looking

place. The three appeared to be blue with fear but

carried a deep celestial shade of lighter blue of wonder.

Jelly did not know how to communicate. He was just an

immortal destined to be forever alone until this day.

All he could do, the only idea that didn't seem like a

waste in his tiny thoughts, was to run to his grand

kitchen made by his ancestors to bring his favorite dish

he had saved from yesterday; it was still fresh. He

desperately ran back to the three with worry that they

might have disappeared just like how they had appeared.

He was relieved when he saw the kids still standing there,

talking to themselves in fear, but to Jelly—he thought

they were talking about him, so he blushed. To them,

they whispered to themselves in panic. Jelly offered the

plate to them with loud silences... and bowed his head,

and hope wrapped him up, slightly cold, but he believed

they'd take his love.

The three looked at each other skeptically, but somehow,

their fear instincts lowered towards Jelly and the

surroundings. That wasn't natural—not quite. Their

senses seemed diminished, as if they were perceiving

less. The quiet musical melody echoed in their bodies.

That was not fine at all. The rate at which something

in them shifted felt so dark and eerie. Jelly's bowed

head couldn't see it. They gave a smile that didn't

belong to them, a Pan Am smile, and accepted Jelly's

offering gracefully. Caro, standing in front, took the

plate.

Jelly's eyes sparkled and his heart squeezed with delight,

and one tear rolled down his red cheek of bliss. He looked

up at them; he didn't know what this behavior meant in

humans. He wasn't one! He was an Eoulian, made from Ete.

And more than any of the three kids had lived there—

lived Jelly. So he didn't understand the kids' expression

of pure ache and fear hidden by a forceful facade, not

of theirs.

Slowly, Peal wasn't timid anymore, Nalo didn't think

about what made this beautiful dish in this strange place,

Caro wasn't the savior anymore. Nobody wondered, nobody

was let to know, nobody questioned their presence,

didn't look at the sky anymore. Nobody did. Jelly never

had.

Peal took a handful of the meal made of pins that had

a luminous feel about it, digging her hands into Jelly's

love without care for each detail. Caro was aggravated

that Peal took the first bite; she snickered and pulled

the plate towards her and started devouring it instead

while humming.

"I want it!" Nalo said, also getting his hands dirty.

That was the first time Jelly had heard someone speak—

that is, in a language that wasn't used by his grandparents.

He was in disbelief at the scene. He stepped back and

stared at them with covered cheeks. He wasn't disheartened

because none of them handled his love without even one

grain of care; the concept of cherishing was absurd to

the little boy.

He jumped and jiggled, assuming they liked his baking,

clapping his hands too. In return for his love, he got a

broken dish, thrown by Peal in rage because Caro and

Nalo ate most of it. Jelly flinched but didn't grieve.

Only if it were another world where no cruel music

buzzed, Jelly could have gotten the best friends.

Here, he jiggled like jelly with it; the fabric of his belt

bounced too. He grinned, hair tousled and hands joined

aside his cheek with so much joy.

For ones who were alive only for a few minutes after

they entered his world, soon the three stopped arguing,

and eventually an inexorable callous of red crept through

the roots of their hair. Turning red each strand, the same

as Jelly, but a deeper red of blood because there was

nothing to protect them on a foreign planet.

Jelly watched them with awe, not knowing it wasn't in

the nature of humans to have their hair turned to an

unnatural red. Peal was paler and numb, no flowery smell

from her of timidness and purity. They all stood and

didn't move until they were hellishly turned Eoulian.

Their cheeks went red, and heart—heartless. Though for

Eou, eligible enough to stand and work as bakers to a

void.

That day, Ete rained down from the cherry-red sky that

it had transformed into during the period of Enderay.

Rain of Ete falling after the longest time as the tons

lost their little pieces, which fell to the ground. They

wept in pale yellow over their farewell, and their 'grave'

in the sky turned a sickly yellow too.

That day must be a dream; it didn't make enough sense,

even to someone as lost as Jelly, living forever in Eou.

He couldn't understand why, again, he started crying.

Ete fell like features from the sky. Jelly's sob was heard,

because everything was so tangled. Because he was here,

standing like this under the rain, and the other friends

that he had made, the kids in his heart. They felt closely

like the tons in the sky he looked at; they were so far

that he couldn't see the pale yellow on them. Nor can he

now—his eyes are forbidden to see pale yellow.

Now, as Caro, Peal, and Nalo lost so much—their lives—

Jelly couldn't be happy even if he got friends for the

first time. Though; though this day will end. The rain

too—Jelly will forget—he has to. He's an immortal, and

it's only fair to forget because a heart, even of magic,

can't stop itself from turning into some dirty, pale,

pale-yellow, rotting, forever-reeking mess of delour.

Things keep slipping through such a little boy.

The sky keeps melting and his friends keep fading, and

he could only cry, a cry that's simply aimless, causeless.

They were consumed—Caro, Peal & Nalo—maybe for

their greed?? which they don't own... May that have had

a terrible chemical reaction with the strange air of Eou,

which was only meant to be gentle. Or by the Lord? Has

he grown so hungry to consume the last bit of hope?

That shouldn't be. Jelly can't know; he's an Eoulian—it's

a different world.

The kids fired up with red, a passionate heart to devote

themselves to baking. Jelly flinched and grieved. It meant

nothing to grieve. Why did he keep thinking about it?

It's so futile; Jelly could burst with yellow.

He looked at Tons with a tilted head and teary eyes, once

before fainting.

The leaves wrapped the curled boy up as he went

unconscious during the last Enderay period.

Then, as moments passed, his eyes fluttered open, so

the leaves woke up and straightened aside like a blanket

with life. He couldn't remember anything—he always

forgets the important things.

When Jelly sat down with weary shoulders that he

couldn't feel, all his desperation left him, and an

echoing silence accompanied him. When he lifted his

head, he saw the three as they were before—but with

red hair and cheeks.

He froze completely. Even though he couldn't remember

anything, seeing them relieved him. That was on a quieter

scale, however, because a much louder event had just

occurred: his shocking "first encounter" with humans.

He shook hysterically, and his heart lit up like a bulb.

Standing with a mild amount of effort due to his shaking,

he clapped his hands and bounced.

Caro was making something mouth-watering in the kitchen

where Jelly always worked alone. Nalo collected the

"pins" with Peal using their bare hands because they

hadn't discovered the baskets yet. Jelly was so thrilled;

he thought it was a blessing from the Lord of Eou because

they might have been impressed with the baking, offering

such a beautiful gift!

Caro noticed Jelly first and greeted him like a typical

mortal on a Monday morning on Earth. Finding no

appropriate response, Jelly simply clapped awkwardly,

thinking it was acceptable.

Caro turned her head back to a rigid position.

Jelly peeked at the grand dish of the day that Caro was

making (or so he automatically assumed). The smell was

to die for. When Caro walked to the other side, Jelly

took a bite out of it and quickly ran away.

His mechanism was almost bursty with how delectable it

was! He grabbed his long hair and paused to properly

express the supremacy of Caro's dish in the world of

bakers.

Lingering still for a while, his eyes turned to Nalo and

Peal with the duty to be the "pins collectors". Half-

possessed by the goodness of Caro's dish, he walked

over to them jollily.

They were absorbed in collecting the pins and groaned

whenever they missed the one they stepped out to catch.

There wasn't any difference between Nalo and Peal today.

Not just because now they had the same hair color, but

because they both turned away terribly from something

they once were.

Jelly giggled, seeing their frantic hardship, and ran to

search out the big basket for the collection, to collect

more than them.

Caro turned, inspected, and rang the bell beside the

sound of a loud noise for the pin collectors to hear.

As Nalo and Peal heard the bell, they dropped the pins

from their hands, which got deeply buried in the ground,

and stepped to the kitchen with no sign of defeat or

playfulness.

They started dutifully working in the grand kitchen for

the dish in process. The enthusiasm dimmed Jelly as he

took in their expression and settled quietly in his spot,

not being able to make out their behavior.

He interpreted that it was simply how they were. That

was how fast three kids changed in themselves, and

what was another haunting note was that their true

selves, in the heart of Jelly, must have faded without

a clue already.

Nobody got a chance to question the purpose of them

appearing in an unknown world. Who will be ready to

know now, as nobody remembers? To have them thiefed

on their instincts and delicate love so smooth.

In the fog which held the water around them to drown

them in little space, nobody could know because to them

it never happened, and all the things that mattered were

buried.

All and everything—in this plant of Eou—nothing can

survive very well even if they stay alive. They will wear

out and vaporize; they will never see how the leaves they

have stepped on were just a whole other world, or how

their slavery does no good to them.

They will leave, like that one corner of Tons before

falling as Eye, forever down... Even if they have worked

as bakers, failing in themselves over and over.

What the monstrosity cost, the lives of mortals remaining

untouched in so many years. They should have been here,

so they could know; they could have been the savior Tons

wished for when Jelly wished to them in a fading dream.

The dream leaked and the kids slipped away from their

world so easily to here, where it made no sense.

Caro passed away at 80, Nalo at 78, and Peal at 83.

It wasn't ephemeral. Long after the soul of the beauty

was taken away, Jelly saw it all—a nightmarish farewell

of his only friends, companions.

He forgot it all; with that, he forgot so much more,

each day and each second, each Enderay period. It was

a curse for him to be so used to things that it'd stop

mattering.

He woke up and forgot everything.

He woke up to the day he made the jelly for the second

time.