It began like any other quiet morning. I stepped outside to water the flowers, breathing in the still air — until an awful, heavy odor stopped me in my tracks. The smell was sharp and sour, unlike anything I’d encountered before. I looked around, expecting to find spoiled food or perhaps an animal that hadn’t survived the night. Then, near the flowerbed, I noticed it — a strange red mass glistening faintly in the grass, pulsing ever so slightly. My breath caught. It didn’t look like a plant or an insect. It looked alive.

The thing was bright crimson, with long, fleshy shapes twisting outward like fingers reaching through the earth. Its surface was slick and shiny, and the smell grew stronger the closer I stepped — thick, pungent, and almost unbearable. For a moment, I considered calling someone, but curiosity got the better of me. I took a picture and searched online, typing what came to mind: “red mushroom bad smell.” The results appeared instantly, and my heart skipped. I’d found my answer — Anthurus archeri, better known as the Devil’s Fingers fungus.

Despite its name, this eerie-looking growth is completely natural. Native to Australia and Tasmania, it begins inside a white, egg-like sac before bursting open into four to eight red arms covered in a spore-filled substance. The foul odor it releases isn’t meant to frighten humans — it attracts flies, which help spread its spores to new places. Though unsettling in appearance, it’s simply one of nature’s more dramatic ways of ensuring survival.

To this day, I still avoid that corner of my garden where it first appeared. Every so often, a faint memory of that smell comes back when the soil is damp, reminding me how strange and unpredictable nature can be. What began as a moment of unease turned into a quiet fascination. It taught me that sometimes, the world’s most mysterious sights aren’t from another