This morning, I saw a pinkish lump on my wall and called the landlord right away

Something Is Growing Behind My Kitchen Wall—And No One Will Tell Me What It Is

This morning began like any other, until I noticed something strange in the corner of my kitchen—a pinkish, oozing mass pushing its way through a crack in the wall. At first, I thought it might be some kind of spill or old caulking, but as I stepped closer, the sight made my stomach turn. The texture was wrong—bulbous, semi-translucent, and wet. It pulsed slightly, almost as if alive.

I stood frozen for a few seconds, trying to process what I was looking at. It didn’t look like mold. It didn’t look like anything I had ever seen before. The closest thing I could compare it to was something out of a sci-fi movie—a mix between flesh and jelly, as though it was trying to push through from the inside.

I rent the apartment, so my first instinct was to call my landlord. To his credit, he showed up quickly—within thirty minutes. But the way he acted was… off. He took one look at the mass, barely touched it with a tissue (which did nothing to clean it up), and said flatly, “Just old insulating foam. Nothing to worry about.” Then, without another word, he pulled on a pair of gloves, scraped some of it into a plastic bag, and left. No questions, no concern, no explanation.

His calm but rushed exit made my gut twist. Why gloves if it was just foam? Why leave without giving me a clear answer—or a cleanup plan?

Feeling uneasy, I took a few close-up photos and sent them to my friend Chris, who’s a biologist. I didn’t tell him much—just that I found this thing in my wall and didn’t believe it was insulation. A few hours later, he called me, and the tone in his voice instantly made my skin crawl.

He said it looked biological. Possibly fungal, maybe even laced with mycelium, the rootlike network fungi use to spread. Worse, he said it was active. There was a visible spore structure in the photo I hadn’t even noticed. He warned me that in enclosed, moist environments—like the space between drywall—certain fungal colonies can grow unchecked for years. Some species are toxic. Some are invasive. A few, he said, have even been known to attract or harbor parasitic insects.

That was enough for me. I packed a bag, opened all the windows, and left the apartment immediately.

Since then, I’ve called and texted my landlord multiple times. No answer. No replies. Total silence. The man who rushed out so quickly and confidently now won’t even respond to a single message.

I keep replaying the scene in my head—his odd expression, the way he avoided eye contact, how he seemed to recognize whatever it was and wanted it gone fast. The pink mass is probably still there, quietly growing, hidden in the shadows behind the wall. I can’t shake the feeling that this is more than just a maintenance issue.

The unknown is what terrifies me most. What is it? How far has it spread? And why won’t anyone tell me the truth?

Until I get real answers—or an inspection—I’m not setting foot back inside that apartment.