I noticed a strange patch of soil in my yard—almost as if someone had deliberately scattered tiny white balls across it.
At first, I assumed it was debris. Maybe Styrofoam. Maybe something the kids next door had dropped. But something about it didn’t sit right with me.
The ground looked disturbed, freshly turned in one small area, as if something had pushed its way up from underneath.
Curious—and already uneasy—I walked closer and crouched down.
That’s when I froze.
They were smooth. Perfectly round. Pale white and faintly translucent, almost glowing in the sunlight. They looked eerily like pearls pressed into the soil.
My stomach tightened.
They didn’t look manufactured. They looked… alive.
I grabbed a pair of gardening gloves and carefully knelt down, brushing the loose dirt aside. The balls weren’t hard like stones. They were soft. Slightly springy. Almost jelly-like beneath my fingers.
The sensation sent a chill through my spine.
One horrifying thought pushed its way into my mind.
Eggs.
But whose?
Birds wouldn’t bury eggs like this. Insects laid eggs in clusters, but these were too large. Too uniform. Too… intentional.
Trying not to panic, I gently dug deeper. The farther I went, the more I uncovered. Dozens of them, tightly packed together, hidden beneath the surface.
I pulled my hand back quickly, my heart pounding.
Something about this felt wrong.
The Moment I Turned to the Internet
Against my better judgment, I scooped a small section of soil—eggs and all—into an old container and brought it inside. I placed it on the kitchen counter and held it up to the light.
That’s when I noticed something that made my breath catch.
Inside several of the white spheres were tiny dark dots.
Not dirt.
Not shadows.
Something forming.
My hands shook as I opened my laptop and began searching. I typed everything I could think of:
“White jelly eggs in soil”
“Round translucent eggs found in yard”
“Clusters of white balls underground”
Image after image popped up.
And then I saw it.
The Answer Made My Skin Crawl
They were slug eggs.
Specifically, eggs belonging to large garden slugs—some species capable of laying up to 100 eggs at once.
The dots inside?
Developing embryos.
My stomach flipped.
I slammed the laptop shut and pushed the container away, suddenly feeling like my kitchen wasn’t clean anymore. I couldn’t stop imagining what would happen if I hadn’t noticed them—if they had hatched unnoticed beneath my yard.
But just as I was calming myself down, thinking it was “only slugs,” something didn’t add up.
These eggs were larger than any photos I’d seen.
And there were far more than expected.
When Things Got Worse
That night, I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured the soil moving. Dozens—hundreds—of soft bodies pushing their way up through the earth.
In the morning, I went back outside.
The patch of soil had changed.
It was wider.
And worse… more of the white spheres were visible now, closer to the surface, as if something had shifted during the night.
I felt a wave of panic.
I grabbed a shovel and, heart racing, began digging deeper than before.
That’s when I uncovered something I hadn’t seen online.
Beneath the eggs was a hollow space in the soil—a pocket, almost like a nest. And inside it were trails of thick, dried slime, far more than a few garden slugs should leave behind.
Then I noticed something else.
The soil was warm.
Not from the sun.
From within.
Calling for Help
I immediately called a local pest control service and sent them photos. When the technician arrived, his reaction confirmed my fear.
He went quiet.
“These aren’t just common garden slugs,” he said slowly. “This looks like an invasive species.”
He explained that certain invasive slugs can devastate gardens, attract predators, and multiply at alarming rates. Left alone, a single nest could spread across multiple properties within weeks.
And then he added something that made my blood run cold.
“You’re lucky you found these before they hatched.”
Aftermath
The area was professionally treated and sealed. The eggs were removed and destroyed safely. My yard had to be monitored for months afterward.
Even now, every time I walk outside, I catch myself staring at the ground.
Listening.
Watching.
Because sometimes, the most horrifying discoveries aren’t loud or dramatic.
Sometimes, they sit silently beneath your feet—waiting.
