That morning something felt wrong before I could explain it. I walked onto the veranda and noticed the wall was not still. It was moving—not cracking or shaking, but shifting in a slow, unsettling way, as if something alive were trapped inside. Fear rose quickly. My mind jumped to the worst possibility and my body wanted to step back, yet I stayed frozen, watching a small shape struggle within a narrow crack.

Step by step I forced myself closer. What I saw was not smooth or silent. It was frantic, awkward, almost desperate. Then the truth became clear. It was not a snake. It was a skink—a small lizard whose tiny legs scrambled as it tried to free itself from the tight space. In that moment the fear began to fade. What had seemed terrifying now looked helpless. The creature was not dangerous; it was simply trapped and exhausted.