The Youngest Blue Cellodian: Chapter 1 - A Sidewalk Slam Book.
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Chapter 1: Through the Slab
The sidewalk pulsed.
Jerry Ayo had felt it before—an odd buzzing, just below the surface of the concrete slab in front of his house. But today, it was louder, heavier, like a drumbeat echoing from under the skin of the world.
He hesitated before stepping onto it, holding his board under one arm and the other hand clutched tight around a worn blue notebook. The sun was just cresting the east side of Atlanta’s skyline, spilling gold infused sky into every window. The city smelled like dew, gasoline, and just a whisper of time gone strange.
His shoes touched the slab.
The world folded.
Jerry had traveled before—once to 1940, another time to a future where graffiti could talk—but this was different. This time, there was no flash, no dizziness, no weird tunnel. One blink, and he was standing in a city of glass and air, where the buildings shimmered like frozen lightning and the sky pulsed in shades of indigo.
A man stood in front of him. No—not a man, not exactly. His skin was smooth and pale blue, like the surface of a still lake. He wore a flowing cloak decorated with drifting cloud patterns, its edges embroidered in delicate gold. His eyes were old. Like, ancient. But his face was youthful. He tilted his head to the side as the clouds, which were actually in motion, lazily swam to his right side..
“You’ve arrived, Ayo of Earth,” the man said, voice calm as a whisper through velvet.
Jerry blinked. “Uh. Cool. Who—uh, where am I?”
The man nodded slowly, gesturing around them. “Welcome to Aetha Doma, the City of Echoing Time. I am Telos, guardian of Clan Firstsky. You stand among the Blue Cellodians. Yero is waiting for you.”
“Cellodians? Who’s Yero?” Jerry repeated, glancing around. A few more beings floated down from translucent towers, their cloaks trailing like streamers behind them. All of them blue, all of them glowing faintly, and all of them watching him.
“You are the only one of your kind to ever step here unbidden,” Telos continued. “And… you are expected.”
That didn’t make Jerry feel better.
“I was just on my way to the skate park,” he muttered, mostly to himself.
“You are young,” Telos said, with what might’ve been a smile. “Too young.”
“I’m nineteen,” Jerry said defensively.
“I am thirty-nine billion years old,” Telos said flatly.
Jerry coughed. “Right. Okay. Good talk.”
The sky shimmered above them, and Jerry suddenly noticed a cluster of figures watching from a tall platform. Some looked like Telos—calm, ancient, serene. Others wore darker cloaks, their cloud patterns scattered and chaotic, their gazes sharp. He didn’t need to be told—they were other clans. And they didn’t like each other.
“This world isn’t meant to last,” Telos said, almost to himself. “Even immortals live in the shadow of death.”
That got Jerry’s attention.
“But you said you’re billions of years old.”
“We are,” Telos said. “And yet… not all of us survive. There are four clans, each broken from the original harmony. We of Firstsky are the oldest. The others? Some number in the millions, others in mere hundreds. And one clan… barely survives past forty.”
Jerry raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like y’all need therapy.”
“Perhaps,” Telos said. “Or perhaps we need something else. Someone else.”
“Me?” Jerry said, already regretting it.
Telos turned and began to walk—or float—toward the stairs leading into a massive citadel. Jerry hesitated, then followed.
“You are not only a visitor, Jerry Ayo,” Telos said over his shoulder. “You are kin. Or rather… a fragment of one.”
That stopped Jerry in his tracks. The notebook in his hand began to hum.
“Wait. What do you mean, ‘fragment’?”
Telos turned, and for the first time, his smile cracked wide and strange.
“I mean… you are the youngest of the Blue Cellodians.”
And then the notebook snapped open.
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