This morning started like any other. The curtains were half open, the apartment was quiet, and I was heading into the kitchen to make coffee. But the moment I stepped in, I stopped dead in my tracks.

On the wall—right between the kitchen and the living room—I noticed something. Something… wrong.

A pinkish, sticky-looking mass was slowly oozing out from a thin crack in the wall. It was glossy, strange in texture, almost biological in appearance. At first I thought it was some weird mold, or maybe construction residue. But it looked alive.

I rent this apartment, so my first instinct was to call the landlord. He showed up quickly—far too quickly. That’s when things started to feel even more wrong.

He said it was nothing. But I could tell he was lying
The landlord took one look at the mass and immediately said, with suspicious calmness:
— “Oh, that’s just some old insulation foam. Nothing to worry about.”

He pulled out a tissue, put on gloves, and wiped a bit of it off the wall. Then, without any further inspection, he turned to leave.

No questions, no real concern, no explanation. He didn’t even ask how long it had been there. He was avoiding eye contact and practically rushed out the door.

My instincts were screaming. Something was off. He was hiding something. I could feel it.

I had to look for myself
As soon as he left, I stood in silence. The apartment was unusually still. The kind of silence that makes your skin crawl. I could hear the faint dripping of the faucet… and something else.

A rustling. A faint movement.
From inside the wall.

I grabbed gloves, a flashlight, and a kitchen knife. My hands were shaking. I moved a small shelf out of the way, knelt down, and gently scraped at the crack. A few flakes of drywall crumbled off. That pink mass still glistened, but then—something shifted.

Something moved behind it.

The smell hit me next
It wasn’t strong at first. Faint, but… unmistakable.
Rot. A putrid, decaying odor, like old meat left in the sun. It seeped through the opening as I continued to carve a small hole in the wall.

I aimed the flashlight inside.

And I swear to you—I saw it.
Something organic.
It looked wet. Pulsating slightly. Stuck between pipes and wires.

Then, a shape. A round, cloudy sphere.
I leaned in. My flashlight flickered.
And then I realized:
It was an eye.

This wasn’t foam. It was alive
I stumbled back and dropped the knife. My body locked up in fear. I couldn’t breathe. My mind tried to rationalize what I’d seen—but nothing made sense.

It was not an animal. It was not a nest. It was not any thing I could recognize. It moved—slightly, slowly—but it reacted to light. To sound. To me.

In a panic, I called the police. At first, they thought I was exaggerating. Maybe it was a rat, they said. But they sent someone anyway.

Forty minutes later, a young officer knocked. I explained everything. He looked skeptical—until he shined his own flashlight into the hole. I saw his face change in an instant.

He backed away.
Radioed for backup.
Said only:
— “We’ve got a situation.”

What they found stunned everyone
They told me to leave the apartment immediately. I stayed at a friend’s house that night. The next day, I got a call.

Inside the wall, the authorities found organic material. Fragments that looked… biological. Tissue-like. But no signs of rodents, insects, or animals.

They refused to go into detail.

When I asked if it was dangerous, the officer hesitated before replying:
— “We can’t say yet. But you shouldn’t go back there.”

The landlord disappeared
Since then, no one has seen him. His phone is off. His office is closed. I asked neighbors if they knew anything. One of them looked down and whispered:
“He’s always been… strange. People talked. But we didn’t think it was like this.”

There are rumors. Whispers. That maybe something was hidden in the walls for a reason. That maybe this wasn’t the first time.

I don’t know what to believe anymore.

I still wake up terrified
I dream about the eye. The movement. The smell. The silence that followed. I don’t trust walls anymore. I don’t trust landlords. I don’t trust the idea of safety in your own home.

Because what if what I found… is still there? Or worse — what if there’s more?

If you see something strange coming out of your wall — do not ignore it.
Don’t believe someone who tells you, “It’s just foam.”
Because sometimes, what hides inside the walls isn’t meant to be found.
And once you see it —
You can never unsee it.