One early morning, just as the sun was beginning to stretch its golden rays across the yard, I stepped outside with nothing more in mind than watering the plants. It was peaceful, the kind of stillness you get only at dawn — birds beginning to chirp, the air crisp, the ground still damp from the night. I held the watering can and moved towards the flowerbed, still half-asleep. But then, something odd caught my eye, and in an instant, all the drowsiness vanished.
There, right next to the flowerbed, partially obscured by the grass, was… something. At first glance, I thought maybe an animal had curled up and died there — the shape was unnatural, almost grotesque. I inched closer, and what I saw made my heart skip a beat. It had an elongated, almost skeletal skull, a wiry, stretched-out body, and bizarre limbs that were too long, too jointed, too alien. Its skin — if you could call it that — was a strange grayish-brown, with these eerie veiny patterns running across its surface. I froze on the spot. I didn’t scream, but my whole body stiffened with an overwhelming wave of fear and disbelief.
My mind raced. Was it a dead animal? Some weird decaying plant? Or worse… was I actually looking at an alien? A mutant, maybe? I even thought, absurdly, “Is this how those abduction stories begin?” I honestly considered running inside and locking all the doors. The thing looked like it had crawled out of a sci-fi horror movie.
Then a slightly more rational thought came to me — maybe it was just a mushroom. A weird one, sure, but fungi can grow in some really strange forms. But even that explanation didn’t sit right. The figure looked too humanoid, too detailed, like something sculpted rather than naturally grown. Still too stunned to touch it, I snapped a photo and sent it to a few friends.
The replies came quickly. One friend wrote, “RUN!” — clearly not helpful, though it did make me laugh nervously. Others just asked, “What the hell is that?!” No one had a clear answer, and I wasn’t about to poke it with a stick to find out.
Out of desperation (and curiosity), I posted it in a nature and gardening group online. Most people were just as confused. A few suggested it might be the fruiting body of a rare fungus, but no one was sure. Then one comment stood out. It simply read: “Put on gloves. Don’t touch it with bare hands.” That alone sent shivers down my spine. What kind of thing is so suspicious that even strangers on the internet urge caution?
For a moment, I imagined hazmat suits, flashing lights, government officials sealing off the yard. It was all starting to feel surreal. But then, finally, someone more experienced chimed in with a confident ID.
“It’s ginseng,” they wrote.
I blinked. Ginseng? As in the medicinal root? I dug deeper and, to my amazement, it checked out. Wild ginseng, when fully matured, can develop into extremely intricate and bizarre shapes. Sometimes it even takes on a vaguely human-like form — long limbs, a body, even a head-like structure. It’s rare, it’s valuable, and apparently, it can look straight-up terrifying when you’re not expecting it.
I was stunned. All this drama, all this fear — over a root. But not just any root. A prized, slow-growing, oddly magical one. I went from being terrified of discovering extraterrestrial life to feeling like I had stumbled upon buried treasure. Honestly, it was a little disappointing that I hadn’t uncovered proof of aliens, but on the other hand, how many people can say they’ve found wild ginseng in their own backyard?
That morning turned out to be unforgettable, not because I met a visitor from another planet, but because I discovered something just as mysterious — and perhaps even more magical — growing quietly beneath my feet.
