Wandering Wonderland: Mochi Madness

The world wobbled in his vision, swirling and blurry, as if his thoughts themselves were being stretched and twisted through the curve of the glass that contained him. A flash of blueish energy pulsed through the jar, briefly distorting his view of the space beyond. He blinked—or at least tried to. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even feel his body anymore—just an awareness of existing, trapped in some kind of floating limbo.

He wanted to take a deep breath—when suddenly realizing he couldn’t. His mind nearly hyperventilated at this disembodied effect. It was suffocating and claustrophobic, despite the weightlessness and no sense of touch. The humming glass jar that encased him buzzed with a faint resonance, almost magical, keeping him—fresh, was the word that came to mind. He had been stuffed inside the moment he arrived here, like a pickled experiment in a mad scientist's lab. Time lost meaning in the endless swirl of energy. Hours, days—years?—it all blended into one long, drawn-out moment. His existence felt oddly—Intact. Almost healthy, despite the sheer terror coursing through his thoughts. Strange that he could even think, or be conscious, considering he didn’t have a physical form anymore. This was all too surreal.

He didn’t think dying would feel so… underwhelming. It wasn’t like in the movies or stories at all. There was no flashback of his life, no peaceful transitions, and definitely no god-like being that would grant him a golden finger or a wish. Instead, there was nothing—no sense of gravity, no lights, no sounds. Just pure darkness. It had been like he’d been unmoored from his own body, drifting away into some cosmic void. Until he had seen the darkness suddenly be pulled apart by two small hands, and he had been grabbed by something before being stuffed into whatever this container really was.

Not that it was any comfort. He didn’t need to understand what was happening right now to know one thing for sure: he was in trouble. Big trouble.

On the other side of the jar, he could see her.

That little girl—if you could call her that—was small in stature and form, looking no older than perhaps ten, eleven, with flaming hair that flickered like a living bonfire, casting wild shadows across the cluttered space. Her horns curved backward, devilish and elegant, while sparks of ember danced at the tips of her curls, as though the air itself was igniting from her presence. She moved—bounced—about the room with a manic energy, a strange blend of childish glee and chaotic power that set his every nerve—his soul nerves—on edge, unsettling him down to his non-existent bones.

The flickering glow of her fiery hair illuminated the space—not candlelight or lamps, just her, setting everything aglow. Her small hands worked with alarming precision, far too focused on whatever monstrous concoction she was brewing in the massive cauldron that bubbled ominously at the center of the room, a place that looked like the kitchen of some mad scientist, or a demon chef. She giggled to herself—odd that he could even hear her—but it was a cheerful laugh that shook his entire being. It felt far too sinister for her seemingly youthful appearance.

His jar vibrated slightly as the girl dragged something massive across the floor. The stone beneath her feet rattled as she pulled an absurdly large, blackened piece of what could only be described as a chunk of flesh—far too big to come from anything normal. It gleamed with a sickly sheen, dripping purple ichor as it left shimmering violet sparks in its wake.

He watched in horrified fascination as she hauled the grotesque thing toward the cauldron. Despite its size, she tossed it in with ease, barely breaking a sweat. The room trembled as it landed with a sickening plop, the liquid inside the cauldron shifting from a bright green to a deep, toxic purple.

What is she making? His mind screamed, panic crawling up his ethereal spine.

She cackled, her voice sweet and melodic, completely at odds with the grotesque scene unfolding before him. The flames in her hair flared brighter as she grabbed a cleaver—oversized and brutal, etched with glowing runes that hummed with some kind of power. She swung it with casual grace, cleaving through the remaining slab of flesh like it was nothing more than bread dough.

The sound of the blade cutting through flesh and bones—CRACK, SQUELCH—reverberated through the room, making his form shudder involuntarily. This is insane… Absolutely insane! This was no ordinary little girl… The realization sunk in fast and hard. He couldn’t understand a word of her muttering, but the tone—the sheer enthusiasm behind it—was more than enough to terrify him. There was something in her laughter, in the way she moved, that spoke of a madness beyond reason.

And she wasn’t done. Far from it.

With gleeful enthusiasm, she began adding more ingredients—each more bizarre and terrifying than the last. She held up a black heart, pulsating with slow, rhythmic beats, as though it still clung to some distant life. Golden veins crisscrossed its surface like cracks in ancient marble. Without hesitation, she dropped it into the cauldron. The liquid hissed, spitting steam as the heart vanished beneath the bubbling surface.

His nonexistent pulse quickened as she continued her demented cooking show. A flaming feather was next, crackling at the edges, its fiery tendrils licking the air as if alive. She twirled it between her fingers, admiring the way it sparked, before tossing it into the mix. The flames snuffed out with a sizzle, and the cauldron’s contents shifted colors again, this time to a reddish brown.

His panic suddenly intensified as a crazy thought came. Is she going to put me in there? Am I part of the recipe?! He couldn’t tell if he was more terrified or disgusted at the thought.

Suddenly, she approached his jar. Oh no, nononono! Please—she then grabbed another jar to his immediate left—causing him to deflate like a balloon that was suddenly let go.

And then came the kicker—from the jar she pulled out a golden sack, the size of a small dog, bulging ominously. His mind screeched to a halt as she hefted it above the cauldron.

Were those… Were those… No, can’t be… Those aren’t—

He couldn’t finish the thought. The golden sack disappeared into the cauldron with a splash, the liquid churning violently before settling into a dark sludge.

He recoiled mentally, as much as his ethereal form allowed. What kind of sick kitchen is this?!

He had seen enough. More than enough. He desperately wished he could scream, to cry out for help, or, hell, even for mercy at this point. But nothing came. His voice, his body—everything was trapped. Trapped in this jar. And the worst part was, he had no idea what she was planning to do with him.

I have to get out of here… Somehow…

He couldn’t remember exactly how he’d ended up here. There were flashes—chaos, betrayal, pain. The pain still felt vivid. But nothing concrete. It was as if his memories had been scrambled up. Only that he had been drifting, barely aware of anything until this strange girl had yanked his soul out of wherever it had been and stuffed him into this jar like a science project.

If only I could have just stayed in the void. At least there I wouldn’t have to watch this mad demon chef’s cooking experiment, nor feel impending doom upon my existence, he thought bitterly, watching as she stirred the cauldron with a long, twisted ladle. The thick sludge inside bubbled violently, hissing like a creature ready to spring to life.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, she began to laugh, again. Soft at first, like a giggle, but it quickly grew into something louder, more sinister. The sound sent a chill through the jar, reverberating through his very essence.

The room darkened suddenly, the flickering light from the girl’s fiery hair casting long, twisting shadows on the walls. The air thickened with tension, an eerie silence settling over the space. He felt a shift in the atmosphere.

What now?!

The girl stood at the center of the room, her eyes gleaming with a wicked excitement. With a casual flick of her wrist, she traced a glowing sigil in the air—dark, intricate symbols crackling with power as they twisted and contorted, forming a tear in the very fabric of space.

A deep, unnatural growl resonated from the void beyond the tear, echoing through the kitchen like the groaning of a distant storm.

His entire being trembled. Whatever was on the other side of that rift… it wasn’t friendly.

The tear expanded, tendrils of darkness slithering out, coiling like serpents across the floor. Then, with a thunderous roar, a hulking, multi-limbed beast emerged—or at least a part of it—with the rest of it still in the void.

Its body was a swirling mass of inky shadows, with tentacles as thick as tree trunks lashing out, writhing violently as if tasting the air for prey. Long, bony limbs cracked into place, and from its back sprouted multiple tails, each ending in a jagged, scythe-like tip. The beast exuded raw, chaotic power.

It let out a deep, guttural growl that reverberated through the walls, and that’s when they suddenly appeared. Five pairs of massive eyes— they seemed to contain the stars—except that they were gleaming with malevolence and hunger. It was just about to speak, before its booming voice was suddenly cut off mid-threat, its many eyes locking onto the small, fiery-haired girl standing before it.

For a brief moment, the beast froze, all of its bravado crumbling away as realization hit. The numerous eyes darted around the room nervously, focusing on the girl’s tiny figure, her head tilted innocently to one side. The tails that had whipped about with fury seconds earlier now drooped, and the beast’s massive form shrank ever so slightly.

The girl smiled—a wicked, knowing smile.

The beast stammered, its voice suddenly much quieter. The room grew colder as the eldritch creature’s entire demeanor shifted. Gone was the terrifying, world-ending presence. In its place, there was something else—something similar to a dog that had been caught chewing up its owner’s favorite slippers.

The girl raised one finger, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She said something to the creature, causing it to flinch, several of its eyes closing in terror as it scrambled backward, its many tails twitching nervously. It almost seemed as if it was… begging?

Before it could escape, the girl’s laughter filled the room—light, almost musical, but layered with something far more dangerous. In one fluid motion, she snapped her fingers, and a flash of bright, searing light cut through the darkness.

SCHLINK.

One of the beast’s tails hit the floor with a sickening thud, the severed end still twitching as dark, ethereal smoke curled from the wound.

The beast let out a howl of pain, recoiling as it scrambled toward the tear in space, desperation fueling its retreat.

He watched in shocked silence as the massive creature fled through the rift, its tails tucked between its limbs like a frightened puppy. The void sealed behind it with a soft whoosh, leaving nothing but the severed tail on the floor, still twitching pitifully.

The girl casually strolled over to the dismembered limb, giving it a curious poke with her foot. She giggled, twirling a lock of her flaming hair between her fingers, her eyes glowing with satisfaction.

He could only stare in stunned silence. What. The. F—

He wished he had something—anything—to cling to in that moment, but all he had was the jar, his confusion, and a rapidly growing fear of the girl who seemed so gleefully intent on creating… Whatever that was.

His panic had settled into something more manageable after some time had passed since that dreadful event—if manageable meant sitting in a constant state of dread, watching as a devilish little girl concocted the most horrifying mixture of ingredients he’d ever seen. It was a mad scientist’s dream in here, except the mad scientist had devilish horns and a crooked halo, and she was using items that probably belonged in ancient, forbidden vaults, or had been taken from some poor horrific creatures. Like the one that had appeared earlier…

Great. Just great, he thought, forcing himself to focus. If he was going to survive this—and, more importantly, escape—he needed to calm down and think.

His gaze darted around the room. From his confined position inside the crystal jar, he could see everything: shelves lined with glowing objects, mysterious powders, and strange herbs, all meticulously placed in crystal containers. There were some intricate, shining tools too, some of them clearly radiating some powerful energy. And then there was that massive cauldron in the center, bubbling ominously as the girl flitted about, adding ingredient after ingredient with wild abandon.

His mind raced. There has to be a way out. If I can just…

He focused on the jar itself. It was sturdy, that much was clear. The glass was thick, shimmering with some kind of magical energy that hummed softly around him. He doubted he could just will himself out of it—it was too well-crafted, designed to contain whatever poor soul was trapped inside.

But maybe… Just maybe…

If I can make this thing move…

He fixated on the base of the jar. It wasn’t secured to the table—it was just sitting there. Free to be knocked over, if given the right push.

He took a deep breath—or, well, mentally prepared himself, since he didn’t have lungs anymore—and concentrated. He could feel the faint connection between his soul and the jar’s surface, like static electricity. Maybe if he pushed just hard enough, he could get it to wobble, to move just enough to fall.

But the timing had to be perfect. If she noticed what he was doing, it was game over. He had seen her terrifying precision when handling those ingredients. Whatever she was, she wasn’t clumsy. She was far too sharp, far too intent on what she was doing.

His eyes—or his soul’s equivalent of eyes—followed her movements as she tossed another set of ingredients into the cauldron. She had just picked up a long, wriggling thing—an ingredient that was far too alive for his comfort. It looked like a snake, only its scales shimmered like molten silver, and its eyes glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light.

The girl grinned as she grabbed it by the head, clearly thrilled by the squirming creature. She said something to the creature, and though her words were still unintelligible to him, her tone was more than clear. She was enjoying this.

The creature writhed, its body coiling around her arm, its fangs snapping dangerously close to her fingers. The girl laughed, holding it up as though she were showing off a prized possession.

That was when it happened.

The creature twisted violently the other way, too fast for the girl to catch—one of its fangs grazed her palm.

“Gah!”

She yelped as she dropped the creature. A few drops of her blood splattered into the bubbling liquid below.

He saw the shift in her expression—the annoyance as she inspected the small cut on her hand. She clicked her tongue in frustration, muttering something under her breath as she wiped the blood off on her apron.

His mind snapped into action. This is it. She’s finally distracted!

He focused all his energy on the jar, willing it to move. It was hard—like trying to push a boulder uphill with a straw—but he felt it. The tiniest of shifts. A wobble.

Come on… Just a little more…

Meanwhile, the girl was far too distracted with her bleeding hand and the creature that was trying to escape. She grabbed a pair of tongs, trying to catch it again, her attention completely focused on the wriggling beast.

He pushed harder, feeling the jar rock ever so slightly. The movement was small, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to send a jolt of hope through him.

Yes! Come on!

The jar wobbled again, this time more noticeably. It teetered on the edge of the table, its base barely holding on. He braced himself, praying that when it fell, it would shatter.

Just then, the girl finally caught the silvery being, and this time, she threw it directly into the cauldron, where it let out a pitiful shriek before there was silence once more.

Crap… Did I miss my chance? He couldn’t help but lament as he stilled his movements in order to not gain her attention.

She let out a satisfied laugh and turned back to her concoction—which was now turning into some kind of dough—completely unaware that a mischievous soul was on the verge of escaping. She grabbed a cartoonishly large hammer—seriously, it was as tall as she was and probably weighed more than her. It looked powerful, etched with runes, and crackled with streaks of blue electricity. He couldn’t believe his eyes as she wielded what seemed to be some giant’s legendary artifact like it was a simple kitchen tool.

She raised the massive hammer above her head, aiming at the dough-like thing that now sat peacefully inside the cauldron, having solidified and contracted after she had finished throwing in all those ingredients, before bringing down the hammer on it.

It started gaining a pinkish white luster, looking quite normal actually—like an actual mochi dough—completely unlike the horrorful thing it was before. It had shrunk from the size of a massive boulder to something resembling a pillow-sized marshmallow. The dough was squishy, yet resilient, and as she pounded it with the hammer, it let out strange, muffled sounds—like it was alive.

Now is the time! He had never seen her so concentrated before, and with how focused she was, she probably couldn’t afford to get distracted. Hopefully.

With one final push—putting his entire being behind it—he willed the jar to tip over.

It wobbled once more, then—CRASH!—the sound reverberating throughout the entire kitchen.

Glass shards exploded in every direction, scattering across the floor. The world spun wildly as his soul tumbled out of its little prison, free for the first time since he’d been trapped in that damnable jar. For a brief, glorious moment, he felt the rush of freedom. He was out!

I’m freeeeee!