The results made my skin c.r αwl. Some websites mentioned decayed animal matter, some hinted at parasites, and a few… suggested something far stranger. But whatever it was, it was real, and it was here, in my yard.
I couldn’t leave it there. I grabbed gloves, a shovel, and a large garbage bag. Heart racing, I carefully scooped up the slimy mass. It quivered slightly, as if alive, but I held it firm. The cats hissed from the porch, staying as far away as possible. The metallic stench was unbearable, but I forced myself to keep going.
Once it was in the bag, I tied it tightly and carried it to the dumpster at the edge of the street. My hands were shaking so badly that I nearly dropped it twice. I stared at it for one last moment, expecting… something. But it stayed still. Silent. D.e αd.
Returning home, I wiped sweat from my brow and sank into a chair, trying to calm my racing heart. The yard felt quiet again. Normal. Safe. I checked the flowerbed one last time — nothing remained. No red slime, no trails, no signs that anything had been there at all, except for the faint metallic odor that slowly faded.
The cats cautiously returned, sniffing the ground as if to reassure themselves. I finally exhaled, a trembling laugh escaping me. Whatever it was, I had dealt with it. It hadn’t moved or attacked. And maybe that was all that mattered.
As the sun set, the yard returned to its peaceful state. Birds chirped in the trees, the flowers swayed gently, and the air smelled like earth and morning dew instead of decay. For the first time that day, I felt a calm wash over me.
I never found out exactly what it was. Maybe it was just a bizarre animal car.c αss, or maybe something stranger. But I knew one thing: I had faced it, handled it, and my yard was mine again. Whatever lurked in the red slime was gone — finally gone.
And in that quiet evening light, I realized: some hor.r σrs aren’t meant to linger. Sometimes, confronting them is enough to make them disappear.
➕
