I pulled out my phone, snapped a photo of the strange growth I noticed on the wall — a fuzzy, grayish patch that looked like it had been there for a while, unnoticed until now. I sent the picture to a biologist I know, hoping for some reassurance or at least a clue about what it might be. I expected a quick response, maybe a few words of reassurance, but a couple of hours later, my phone rang with a call from him. His voice was serious, and as he examined the picture, he explained what it looked like.
He said it resembled a colony of fungus, with visible mycelium sprawling through the wall. That wouldn’t be so unusual, especially in tropical climates or poorly ventilated spaces where humidity and warmth foster mold and fungi. But then he added something that sent a shiver down my spine: he said it could also be parasitic insects, possibly even living within the caulk and using the heat of the walls as a habitat. He explained that such colonies often develop slowly over years, feeding off the building materials and creating a dangerous environment for anyone nearby.
He told me that mold and fungi like that can produce spores that, if inhaled over time, could damage my respiratory health—or worse, cause a more serious problem. In some cases, ongoing exposure to these fungi can lead to respiratory illnesses, allergies, or even infectious diseases, especially if the colony harbored insects or other pathogens. The fact that it had likely been there for years, quietly growing and spreading, made it even more unsettling. When he said it could be dangerous, I honestly felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. I was living right next to that wall, unknowingly breathing in whatever was lurking there.
Without hesitation, I packed up my things and moved out immediately. My landlord, however, isn’t answering his phone anymore. I’ve tried calling several times, leaving messages, but nothing. There’s a strange silence now, almost like he’s disappeared or is avoiding the issue entirely. The more I think about it, the more I can’t shake this gnawing suspicion — what if that wasn’t just fungus? What if there was something more sinister hiding behind that wall?
Why was he in such a hurry to scrape it away? Why did he refuse to have it checked further? Those questions echo in my mind, swirling with doubt and a growing sense of unease. It’s as if he knew something I didn’t, something he didn’t want to discuss or didn’t want revealed. Maybe it was just a routine repair and he didn’t want to fuss, or maybe he saw something that terrified him but didn’t want to admit it. Either way, his silent retreat and apparent avoidance only deepen my fears.
Now, I find myself lying awake at night, imagining what might be hidden inside that wall. Could it be just fungus, or is there something else—something completely unexpected and much more alarming? I feel like I’ve uncovered only a small part of a much larger secret, and now I’m desperately curious and terrified at the same time. The thought that there could be something in that wall I’d rather not know about is haunting me. I keep asking myself: what if I was right to get out, or worse, what if I ignored something that was dangerous all along?
It’s hard not to jump to worst-case scenarios. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but once you realize the potential dangers lurking in the smallest spots — mold, parasites, or who knows what else — it’s impossible not to feel a little paranoid, especially when the person responsible for it is silent and unresponsive. I only wish I knew what was truly behind that wall, or at least had someone who could tell me whether I should be truly afraid or if I was just letting my imagination run wild. Meanwhile, I can’t help but wonder if I might have walked out just in time—or if I left behind something I’d really rather not come across.
