I looked, not immediately understanding what exactly was bothering me. Then it dawned on me. This «heap» was slowly moving. Not sharply, not actively, but as if the entire mass were breathing.
The thin lines inside were intertwined, shifting slightly, as if it were a single living b.o đy. A wave of disgust and a strange chill washed over me.
I took a step back and automatically started filming. One thought was spinning in my head: this couldn’t be happening. I was standing in the middle of my own yard, looking at something that simply shouldn’t be there.
Then I went online. I typed the first thing that came to mind: «it looks like spaghetti, but it’s moving.» And almost immediately I realized I’d been searching in vain.
It turned out it wasn’t trash or food. It was a tangle of earthworms. Dozens, maybe hundreds of b.o đies, woven together into a single moving mass.
They crawled out after the rain, starved for oxygen, and huddled together in this living knot right under my windows.
I squatted and looked at the screen, then back at the pavement, and I was truly shaking. Because now I knew what it was.
Since that morning, I no longer automatically look at my feet. Because sometimes you walk out into your yard, thinking about the most ordinary things, and you find something that makes your insides clench and linger for a long time.
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