It began like any other morning. The air was calm, the street quiet, and the day ahead seemed predictable. As the narrator prepared to leave for work, something unusual caught their eye beneath the car. At first glance, it appeared harmless — maybe a crumpled plastic bag or a scrap of cloth blown there overnight. Nothing about it suggested danger, just an ordinary inconvenience before a busy day.
But then, it moved.
A faint shift in the shadows sent a ripple of unease through them. They hesitated, searching for a logical explanation — perhaps a stray cat, an old toy, or a gust of wind. Yet the longer they watched, the clearer it became that whatever was under the car was alive.
Cautiously, they crouched for a closer look. That’s when instinct overpowered curiosity. They froze — then screamed.
It wasn’t debris. It wasn’t a cat. It was a crocodile.
Small enough to fit beneath the car but large enough to terrify, it lay coiled in the shade, eyes gleaming, tail flicking against the gravel. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to the sound of their own heartbeat. Panic surged; their hands trembled as they stumbled backward, the realization crashing in all at once — this was no misunderstanding. It was real.
Fumbling for their phone, they called emergency services, their voice unsteady. The dispatcher’s surprise only deepened the sense of disbelief — they even asked if it was a prank. But the caller’s trembling insistence left no doubt.
What began as an ordinary morning had turned into a scene of pure unreality — a crocodile lurking where no one would ever expect it. The driveway that once symbolized routine now held a story they would never stop telling: the morning they met fear, face to face, beneath their own car.
