The security camera footage from in front of my house captured a moment I’ll probably never forget.
That afternoon, I had just driven home from the supermarket. Everything was normal, like any other day. I parked my car in front of the house, opened the trunk, and painstakingly took out each shopping bag. In front of my house was a dense coniferous forest—a place so familiar that I almost forgot it was still a forest, still the territory of wild nature.
Suddenly, from deep within the forest, a strange movement appeared.
A tiger emerged.
In an instant, before I could even understand what was happening, a low growl echoed. I looked up—and that moment froze. The tiger lunged, so fast that instinct couldn’t even think.
There was no time to panic.
There was no time to run.
I quickly jumped into the trunk, using all my strength to pull myself into the cramped space. My heart pounded, my breath caught in my throat. The tiger lunged, but thankfully, it couldn’t reach me.
It let out a loud, angry roar. The sound echoed across the yard, sending chills down my spine. Then, seething with frustration at its inability to catch its prey, it turned, slowly retreated, and disappeared back into the coniferous forest—its home.
The camera captured it all.
And I… survived.
I had lived here for so long. So long that I had become complacent. I had never seen a tiger near my house, so I had forgotten how fragile the boundary between humans and nature truly was.
That day, in just a moment, I understood:
how incredibly lucky I was to still be standing here, telling this story.