For several nights, I couldn’t sleep a wink 😰 Every time I closed my eyes, I heard something moving beneath my porch — soft, scraping sounds, as if dozens of tiny bodies were wriggling in the dirt. It was terrifying. I tried to ignore it, but curiosity and fear finally got the best of me. Around 3 a.m., I grabbed my flashlight and a shovel and went outside. The air was cold and still, but the sounds were there… louder this time. When I knelt down and shone the light under the steps, I froze. The ground was covered with round, pale shapes — hundreds of them 😱 They looked like eggs. Some were cracked, others pulsing slightly, as if alive. My hands trembled as I reached out to touch one…
That night, everything changed. I was alone in my old countryside house, a place I had lived in for more than forty years. It had always been peaceful — until those strange noises began.
At first, I thought it was mice or maybe a raccoon. But this was different. The sounds were too many, too soft, and oddly rhythmic — like breathing. Each night, they came from beneath the porch, growing louder, closer, more insistent.
Sleep deserted me. My mind ran wild with possibilities. What if something was living under there — something dangerous? Finally, one sleepless night, I decided to face it.
With my flashlight in one hand and my rusty shovel in the other, I stepped outside. The moon hung low, pale and ghostly, illuminating the edges of the old wooden porch. I crouched down and slowly lifted one of the loose planks.
The beam of my flashlight trembled as I aimed it below — and that’s when I saw them.
Hundreds of oval, whitish-green objects, scattered and half-buried in the soil. They weren’t rocks. They were soft, glistening slightly, and some were even… moving. I felt my stomach tighten. My breath hitched.
One of them was close enough to reach. I hesitated, my heart pounding, and then I touched it. It was warm — alive.
“Good Lord,” I whispered. “What is this?”
For a long moment, I just stared. Then, unable to fight my curiosity, I lifted one with the shovel and gently struck it against the ground.
It cracked.
The smell hit me first — earthy, damp, and something else, something… reptilian. And then I saw movement inside.
A tiny, dark creature wriggled free from the shell. It wasn’t a bird. It wasn’t an insect. It was a baby snake 🐍
My entire body froze. I dropped the shovel and stumbled backward. And then, from the darkness beneath the porch, came a sharp hiss.
It was deep, menacing, and close. My light caught a glimpse of something gliding through the dirt — a large adult snake, thick and glistening with black scales. Its eyes reflected the beam like twin beads of fire.
It raised its head, opened its jaws, and lunged toward me.
Panic took over. I swung the shovel wildly and ran. My heart hammered so loudly I thought I’d collapse. I didn’t stop until I reached my neighbor’s house, where I pounded on the door, gasping for breath.
When the specialists arrived later that morning, they were stunned. Under the porch lay a massive snake nest — dozens of adults, hundreds of eggs. They explained that the warmth from the house and the moisture from the soil had created the perfect environment for the reptiles to breed.
It took hours to remove them all safely. The experts assured me that no one was hurt, but the memory still haunts me.
Even now, when I step onto my porch, I can’t help but listen — afraid that one night, I might hear that faint, whispering sound again. 🫣
