JLE-BYRD.S1

My story began a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far too close to home. Imagine a world much like Earth, inhabited by beings similar to us, living lives not unlike your own. In this world, known as JLE-BYRD.S1, there exists a shared understanding—a “good Samaritan mandate,” if you will. At any moment, a gelatinous, bird-like blob may materialize anywhere. Inside this translucent orb resides the consciousness of a frightened individual who has appeared from nowhere. It is your responsibility, as a good Samaritan, to calm, console, and comfort them—if only temporarily—until they vanish. They might appear at eye level on the sidewalk as you walk, outside your office, or even just behind you as you read this. Across the planet, they appear and disappear forty-six thousand times daily. Each presence lasts about four minutes—four minutes too long to simply stand by and watch. These ethereal, flapping orbs of consciousness are called “Jelly Birds” by the locals. But what are these “Jelly Birds,” really? They could be you, me, or someone we know—people who have drifted off to sleep but never quite entered a dream. Instead, they find themselves somewhere else, briefly, terrified and disoriented. “Oh my god, where the FUCK am I?” a Jelly Bird cries out moments after a child excitedly points and says, “Look, look, a JELLY BIRD!” “Huh, what… WHO the FUCK are you people?!” it shouts. “It’s okay, calm down, relax. I know you’re scared, but everything’s going to be alright—” POOF “Aw, they’re gone already!”

As I mentioned earlier, they vanish almost as swiftly as they materialize. One moment they’re present—frightened and desperate for answers—flapping their phantom limbs frantically, like a bird struggling to take flight. The next moment… they’re gone. The longest any Jelly Bird has ever stayed manifested here was 16 minutes. By now, you’re probably wondering how I know all this. Well, that was me. I didn’t arrive there by chance—I was drawn there with purpose.

It was 2013, and I was deeply immersed in the darker realms of paranormal investigation as part of my spiritual awakening. I had just finished painting a mural of a majestic eagle on a whiteboard, clutching a banner in its talons that bore my name in permanent marker. Along every edge of the whiteboard, corner to corner, I had drawn symbols from every religion and spiritual belief system I could find—holy symbols, runes, glyphs, mantras, totems—anything associated with protection against demonic and dark forces. Boldly arched above the eagle were the words “NO LURKERS ALLOWED.” In every remaining space around the eagle, I had drawn red “NO” symbols encircling detailed recreations of every demonic face that had appeared repeatedly in my photos and videos for far too long.

I sat on the edge of my bed, eyes fixed on my creation. There it stood, magnificently displayed on an easel atop my dresser. Deeply satisfied, I leaned back, clasped my hands behind my head, and stared up at the ceiling. That evening, my room was unusually quiet. In film school, my audio engineering class taught me about “audible silence”—a concept different from what we normally think of as silence. Ambient silence usually measures around 30 dB, the kind of quiet we experience in everyday stillness, free from noticeable noise. True audible silence, at 0 dB, is nearly impossible to find outside of a soundproof booth or sensory deprivation chamber. That night, my room felt like just such a chamber.

Lying there with the lights on, my gaze fixed on the ceiling fan’s bracket, I became aware of the profound stillness. It was as if I existed in a vacuum, disconnected from the outside world. The only sound was a persistent ringing in my ears. Some call it tinnitus; for me, it became a tool. With my mind empty of all thoughts, I focused deeply on the subtle ring. My eyes resisted blinking, but occasionally gave in. I breathed in slowly, then exhaled even more slowly and softly until the ringing itself seemed to fade away.

All that remained was a continuous buzzing—zzzzzzzzzzzzz. As I concentrated, a pattern emerged: zzzzZZZzzzzzZZZZzzzz. The rhythm quickened—zzZZzzZZzzZZzzZZ—shifting from a simple buzz to a pulsing wom-wom-wom. The tempo sped up until suddenly, it dissolved into silence. Then, faintly, I heard a male voice speaking in a language I couldn’t understand, drifting in the distance.

At that moment, my first real thoughts finally surfaced. I realized I hadn’t had any in the past 30 minutes since lying down. “What… is that?” I wondered, but my question was cut short by the man’s voice commanding, “Quiet,” before he resumed chanting in the unfamiliar language. “Who am I hearing?” I asked myself silently, only to be sharply silenced once more.

“You better not interrupt me again if you want your magic symbols to work,” a voice echoed clearly in my mind—one I’ll never forget. It sounded just like the scientist from The Simpsons. You know the guy—we all do. If not, look him up. That voice was uncanny, exactly what I heard: a goofy, high-pitched tone that rolled in octaves, rising and falling like waves. “That must be Zarchos,” I thought. One of “The Powerful Ones.”

I hadn’t experienced any spiritual messages for quite some time during my investigations and meditations. Whenever I tried to communicate, the response was always the same, buried in frequencies and white noise: “The Powerful Ones watch over you now.”

“Zarchos and Lopirus are actually here in my room with me?” I wondered.

“Ah, hey… HEY! I said DON’T interrupt me if you want your symbols to work!” the voice snapped back.

I settled into a still, clear mind, focusing fully on the present—no questions, no fear, no anticipation, no worries. Just stillness and absolute silence—until suddenly, it wasn’t.

As I lay there, staring at the bracket of my ceiling fan—which was off—I realized I was barely breathing or blinking anymore. That’s when everything shifted. Moments after hearing Zarchos, the mad scientist, mock my “No Lurkers Allowed” mural, I was suddenly… somewhere else.

I caught a distant, peaceful melody accompanied by subtle mechanical “whooshing” sounds. It reminded me of futuristic automatic doors opening and closing, each with a soft, gentle noise. The atmosphere felt like a mall—the ambient music, the quiet doors moving.

Then I heard Zarchos say, “Listen.” A soothing woman’s voice came through an intercom, softly ding.

“Attention Wal-Mart shoppers, the store is about to close. Please make your final selections and come to the front. They will be delivered to you immediately. Thank you and have a nice day.”

“What the…?” I thought, but Zarchos cut me off.

“You see, where I come from, Wal-Mart is considered upscale and highly respectable. Where YOU live, though, people make websites like ‘peopleofwalmart’ to mock the shoppers.”

He sounded serious, even disappointed. I said nothing, just listened. My eyes stayed fixed on the fan in my room—I was still lying on my bed and aware of my surroundings. But my mind, my consciousness and thoughts, were fully tuned in elsewhere—

“…a fucking Wal-Mart?” I thought. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I refused to lose focus by questioning it. So I kept listening.

I couldn’t see anything, yet I could hear everything as if I were right there—wherever “there” might be. Gradually, I began to sense what the place looked like. Even now, it’s hard to describe, but I was so deeply connected to this space that I didn’t need to see it; the sensation enveloped me like a vivid memory unfolding in real time. The store consisted of aisles lined with bright holographic glass instead of traditional shelves. People approached the glass and made selections on the “screens” as if the products were physically present. When finished, they moved to the front, where their purchases were instantly delivered.

A wave of excitement washed over me as I realized what I was experiencing. Throughout the years, I had encountered phenomena beyond what most could imagine in countless lifetimes. Yet, this was the most vivid and intense experience I had ever had. All I could do was listen and absorb it fully. I knew that if I began to question it, it would slip away—that was always the case. But not this time. I was hearing without truly listening, speaking without uttering words, and seeing without consciously observing. As my consciousness glided down the aisle into a hall, a voice urged, “Stay with us!” I ignored the command and moved toward a door, wondering, “What lies beyond here?” The voice protested, “No! You can’t enter now. The Council is in session!” I asked, “The Andromeda Council?” They confirmed, “Yes!” I replied with a hint of sarcasm, “Sure, I’m just going to take a peek.” They warned firmly, “No! You’re not permitted in yet. Do NOT touch the door; it has a…”

*WEE-WOO* *WEE-WOO* *WEE-WOO*

*WOO-WOO*,WOO-WOO*,*WOO-WOO*

*WEE-WOO*,*WEE-WOO*,*WEE-WOO*.

An alarm blared loudly, filling the space with an urgent noise. Instantly, I felt a wave of shame, as if I’d done something terribly wrong. Several small robotic devices appeared, zooming toward me with flashing lights, guiding me toward the store’s front. “Some kind of security system?” I wondered. Though I wasn’t afraid, I felt like I’d crossed a line I shouldn’t have.

We exited the building, and I realized we were now outside in a city-like district, surrounded by distant futuristic sounds. Robotic whooshes and buzzes, likely modes of transportation, passed by—building in intensity from afar, peaking near me, then fading away. I caught snippets of distant chatter from passersby as we moved further from the store.

“Where am I being taken? What is this place?” I wondered, when Lopirus suddenly whispered, “Wait, shh… listen. Over there.” Across the street, I heard a child tugging at their parents, speaking excitedly, “Look, look! A Jelly Bird!” Then, a young woman’s voice emerged, groggy and confused, as if just waking from a deep sleep: “Wha… huh? What…”

From afar, a calm, soothing voice responded, “Hi, this is going to sound crazy, and don’t freak out, but—”

Suddenly, the young woman shouted hysterically, “What the FUCK?! Where am I? Who ARE you people?!”

Her terror was raw and palpable. “OH MY GOD. AM I DREAMING? GET AWAY FROM ME! ARRRGRHHH!” she screamed, her voice filled with pure, desperate fear.

That fear will stay with me forever—like the moment a mother learns her child has died. Her voice was a haunting blend of disbelief, panic, and anguish, as if saying, “This can’t be real” and “Oh God, this isn’t happening.” She screamed in frantic terror for about 45 seconds before abruptly falling silent.

Then, the calm voice returned, softly saying, “Aw, poor thing. I don’t understand why they’re always SO scared. Oh well.” I heard footsteps retreating, the speaker moving on, leaving only the echoes behind.

“Well, what was THAT all about?” I finally asked. I was given a brief explanation of what a Jelly Bird was. It all seemed absurd and fantastical, and I blinked, shaking myself free from the moment. Suddenly, I was back to hearing nothing but the faint hum of the A/C and the familiar ambient sounds of my quiet home. “Well, that was… different,” I thought. For the first time ever, I wasn’t using any gadgets to try to communicate with anything. No static, no scanning frequencies or white noise. No amplifying silence through apps or headphones. No spirit box. No endless hours listening to recorded EVPs, analyzing waveforms, trying to find voices hidden in the noise. I wasn’t trying to do anything at all. It just… happened. I heard the voices of Zarchos and Lopirus clearly, for a long time, and for the first time ever. You might be wondering: who are Lopirus and Zarchos? What are “The Powerful Ones”? What is “The Andromeda Council”? And what on earth is a “Jelly Bird”? To truly understand, we need to go back to the very beginning of this story—to 2010, to a small place in Texas called Old Alton Bridge.

Stay tuned…..