The night I saw underworld...

On Sunday night, I was attacked.

Not in the metro. Not in some auto. Not out on the road.

In my own home. In my own room.

It was late. I had just finished dinner at around 10 PM, which is diabolical, I know. Who eats this late?

After washing my utensils and having a heart-to-heart with my sibling, I entered my room because I needed some camera equipment to film a video.

And there it was. Right under my desk.

I immediately rushed to the kitchen to retrieve the best weapon I know.

When I came back, it had already changed position and was clearly calculating its next move. It went behind the desk, but I saw it and attacked first.

Or at least I thought I did.

Then it vanished. Completely.

As if it had never existed. I don’t know which sky swallowed it.

I waited in complete silence. No fan. Peak summer. My heart racing so fast I could hear it.

But it never came out.

I couldn’t even film that night. If anyone’s wondering, I tried. The emotions simply wouldn’t come out. I was too traumatised.

Eventually, I gave up and went to bed around 2 AM, convinced the battle was over.

Oh, how wrong I was. I spent the entire night dreaming about the next encounter and all the ways I would defeat this enemy and reclaim my home.

The next morning, it was nowhere to be found. My entire day was spent in fear. I carried my weapon everywhere and moved around my own apartment like a hostage negotiating with fate.

As night fell, and after far too many conversations with my saviour ChatGPT, I finally convinced myself that it had probably returned to whatever wall cavity it originally came from.

And just when belief started taking over, there it was.

Waiting.

On top of the wall.

This time, I was ready.

I grabbed my weapon, stood on a chair like the brave soul that I am, and launched the attack.

It rushed towards the curtains. I followed.

It moved towards the sliding door. I followed.

It fell to the ground. Victory felt close.

Then the clever little bugger climbed straight back up the curtains.

By now I was standing on chairs, couches, and tables in search of a tactical advantage while my legs shook violently.

Then, after a brief period of no movement, I shook the curtains again.

And it flew directly onto the couch. Right beside me.

I don’t know what it feels like to see God or the underworld. But I came pretty close to seeing the latter.

I jumped off that couch with the pure instinct of prey being hunted by a predator.

For a brief moment, I genuinely considered abandoning my apartment altogether and knocking on my neighbours’ doors in search of political asylum.

Instead, I climbed back onto a chair with a wiper, trying to knock it off the couch.

That’s when it started jumping. Like a frog. Because apparently the situation wasn’t terrifying enough already.

Thankfully, it didn’t jump into my bag, which was also on the couch.

When it finally reached the floor, I continued spraying until it was half gone. Then I squished it, which made me want to crawl out of my own body.

But even then, this resilient creature refused to surrender and somehow crawled underneath the couch.

At that point, I called our building guard, who is now permanently listed in my phone as an angel, because I was far too scared to move the couch myself.

When he arrived, however, the enemy had already departed for the afterlife.

The battle was over. I had won.

I was simply too traumatised to claim the victory myself.

Oh, and before anyone asks…

The attacker was a baby lizard.

Yes.

A baby lizard.

I have no further comments at this time and kindly request the media to respect my privacy while I recover from this traumatic incident.

#Survivor