The house was silent. Only the night wind battered against the windows, and the old hinges of the door creaked as if someone inside was trying to get out. I was sitting in the living room with a cup of tea in my hand when suddenly my daughter, Maria, screamed:
“Mom, come quickly!” Her voice was filled with terror, and my heart pounded as I rushed toward her room.
What I saw before my eyes was almost impossible to describe in words. In the corner of the crimson wall, under the dim glow of the night lamp, clung a huge gray lizard. Beside it hung an entire cluster of white, glossy eggs.
They dangled from the wall like some strange exotic fruit. At first, I thought I was dreaming, but when the creature’s eyes flickered and glowed faintly, I realized it was all real. 😱
Arman, my husband, immediately grabbed the flashlight and stepped closer. “These are fresh. They’ll hatch soon,” he muttered. A cold shiver ran through my body. We had never seen anything like this inside our home. At first, fear dominated us, yet an odd curiosity quickly replaced it. We couldn’t bring ourselves to destroy the eggs. The lizard, which seemed to be the mother, guarded them with its body. There was no aggression in its eyes—only a silent, unyielding watchfulness.
The following morning, one of the eggs cracked open. From it crawled a tiny lizard with nearly transparent skin. It was so fragile that I held my breath, afraid that even the sound of my breathing might harm it. Maria squealed with delight and begged us not to hurt them. Arman decided to use an old glass aquarium that had been gathering dust in the attic. He filled it with soil, leaves, and a few stones. Carefully, we transferred the eggs and the mother inside. To our surprise, she slipped in calmly, curling protectively around her offspring. 🌿
In the days that followed, life in our household changed. Each morning, Maria would rush straight to the aquarium to see if another hatchling had emerged. We even began giving them names. For a while, the joy was genuine. But it didn’t last long. Soon, strange things began happening in the house. At night, we heard tapping sounds coming from inside the walls. Objects in the rooms shifted positions by themselves. And one morning, the food we had left in the kitchen was simply gone, as though it had evaporated. 🤯
I tried to explain it away as coincidence. But one detail unsettled me deeply. Among the hatchlings, one was growing far faster than the others. Its body stretched out day by day, and its eyes glowed red in the darkness. Sometimes at night, I would find it standing against the glass, staring at me with an intensity that froze me to the spot. Fear gripped me, but I said nothing, not wanting to frighten Maria.
Then one night, the power suddenly went out. The house plunged into darkness. From the other room came a loud crash. I ran inside and froze. The aquarium was shattered. A few hatchlings remained inside, trembling, but the rest were gone. And the largest one was nowhere to be seen. On the wall loomed a shadow—long, twisted, disturbingly humanlike. Maria screamed: “Mom, it’s moving!” 😨
Arman tried to grab it, but the shadow slid upward across the wall and vanished into the corner. We didn’t sleep that night. Every sound made us flinch. And in the morning, we found a dark scorched mark on the wall, its outline clear and undeniable. It was the shape of a body—half human, half reptile. We stood frozen, unable to move, our fear heavier than words could describe. 🔥
From that day forward, the atmosphere in the house grew darker. At night we heard footsteps echoing through the hallway. Doors opened and closed on their own. And Maria began saying unsettling things. She insisted that one of the remaining hatchlings was speaking to her. At first, I thought she was playing, but the seriousness in her eyes disturbed me. When I looked at the hatchling myself, I saw its deep crimson eyes fixed on my daughter. She smiled and whispered, “He’s telling me his secret.”
Arman clung to science, trying to explain everything logically. But science had no answers for what we witnessed the following night. A loud grinding sound echoed through the house. When we rushed into the living room, a whole section of the wall had collapsed. From the gaping dark cavity, something stirred. All we could see were glowing eyes in the blackness—and then a massive shadow slipped away before we could react. 🌑
At that moment, I understood that our house was no ordinary place. Perhaps these old walls had been hiding something for years,
something we were never meant to discover. We thought we were showing mercy by protecting a helpless creature and its eggs, but in truth, we had opened a door—one that led not to kindness, but to the unknown.
And as I write these words now, the soft tapping has returned from the corner of the room. Maria sits nearby, smiling at the empty wall as though she sees something I cannot. She whispers, “They’ll be back soon.” And in my heart, I no longer know what terrifies me more—the shadows lurking within the walls, or my own daughter. 😰
