That morning, I went out onto the balcony completely automatically—to open the window, take a breath, and wake up. And suddenly, it was as if my gaze stumbled on the wall. Something was there. It was moving.

Slowly, strangely, as if it had a life of its own. My insides clenched. My first thought was a shadow. My second was a snake. My heart sank, my palms became sweaty, and my breathing became ragged. I froze and simply stared, afraid to even blink.

But the longer I looked, the more I realized: it didn’t look like a snake. Its movements were different—not smooth, but jerky, helpless. The creature seemed to be reaching forward, moving inside the wall, but its tail remained outside. “Probably something huge with a thin tail,” I thought.

A wave of anxiety and disgust, mixed with fear, washed over me. It felt like I’d seen something forbidden, something not meant for the eyes. I wanted to scream and, at the same time, just leave and forget.

When I found out what exactly was in my wall, I was horrified 😢😲
I walked closer, already trembling. And then I realized it was stuck in a crack in the wall. No way in, no way out. Then the realization dawned—it was a skink. A real lizard. Alive.

And at that moment, fear suddenly gave way to pity. It thrashed, clawing at the thing with its paws, but it couldn’t get out. I saw how tired it was, how its tail twitched, and it made me feel even worse inside.

Gathering my courage, I carefully helped it out. My heart was pounding, but I did it. The skink froze immediately, then quickly crawled away as if it had never been there.

Later, I learned that skinks are harmless to people. They’re not venomous, not aggressive, and only bite if seriously frightened or handled roughly.

Usually, they’re simply afraid and try to run away. And strangely, after all that horror, I felt calm. Not only did I stop being afraid, I felt like I’d done something right.