"Chaac, with his mighty axe, struck the cloud, rain fell to the earth bellow while thunder lit up the heavens" - Bob Crock's Study of Mayan Myths
I slid the book back onto the book shelf, "Guess tomorrows class is going to be about Chaac." I mutter to myself before moving to my desk. I open my laptop to start creating a lesson plan, glancing down to my left wrist I realize its bear, I shift my gaze to my computer screen, the background of me and my parents from 3 years ago, the time framed between us, 11:30 PM. Realizing the time, I get to work on the lesson plan, I teach summer classes on mythography at the local community college. I finally have students interested in mythology and not just the credits, I am not to let them down.
The house was quite like always, only thing that was heard was the faint Clicking of the keyboard and sounds of old memories. An extra person in the study typing next to me, my mother creating her own lesson plans as I prepare to graduate next year. The clanking of metal coming from the garage as my dad creates another one of his swords. The happy birthday wishes coming from the kitchen, the hugs for the last time. I pause in my work and glance down at the time, 11:59 07/26/26.
Thats why there back, in a minute I will turn 26 and it will be 2 years since my parents passed.
I turn back to the lesson plans, pushing it to the back of my mind as long as I can. I pull up new tabs and add more rescourses, I start finishing up the review quiz for homework when something pulls my attention. I hear a tapping in the hallway, right outside the study, it sounds like someone is walking on stilts. I pause and close my eyes, focusing on what I can hear, a faint clacking on the floor, a rumble that resembles a hungry belly, and a faint growel.
Did some animal get into the house? My thoughts rush. Burgler maybe, whatever it is I don't want to find out.' I stay quite before hearing the sound of sniffing then "BANG BANG BANG." The door shook and the ferocious roar of a Lion was heard outside. I scrambled, tossed my chair to the side and dragged the desk over, scratch marks from it marred the floor as i moved it but i didnt care. I now had a defense between me and whatever was out there, i grab my phone and try calling 911.
"Fuck" I whisper, as i swipe through my phone, "Why dont I have reception? Wheres the wifi?" I look around, im alone, no service, no help, I need something to fight. Then I see it on the bookshelf, my dads gun safe, I get up and type in his code as theres another bang. Opening I find his revolver, I pick it up, its been 2 years but dust hasnt touched it, its mostly black except for its hammer and trigger. Another bang and a loud crack is heard and i turn quickly. The door is split, in half horizontally, the right side of the door tilts backwards and falls into the hallway revealing the thing.
Fierce golden eyes, A main of yellow, and ferocious teeth. 'It can only be a lion' I think before a black insectoid leg moves to climb the desk. I lift my gun watching as it squeezes through the door. 'Black insectoid forlegs, a thorax, what the fuck.' The beast roars and I shoot, Its head launches back and then its eyes turn to me. It scrambles through the partaily broken door faster, the gun, may savior might've hastned my end.
I fire two more shots hoping to by myself some more time as the beast continues to try and climb through the half door. Moving to the bookshelf I grab it, and pull on it and it starts tipping towards me. I barley managed to dodge out of the way, but the lion ant thankfully didnt. I heard a pop, then looking at the desk I see a pale yellow liquid coming from the beasts crushed ant half, the lion head lets out a final whimper before its movements stop.t
"What the fuck" I say falling back against the opposing book shelf, checking my left wrist for the time. "12:17, what a great birthday gift." My left hand falls to my side and I look for the revolver I discarded on the floor in my scramble. I crawl to it and pick it up, its weight a comforting present in my hand. Laying on the floor I start taking deep breaths like im starving for air, i feel myself starting to spiral.
Taken another breath I try grounding myself. Five things I can see, monster corpse, scatered books, my dads gun, a shattered door, and a yellow liquid. Four things I can feel, the warm barrel against my skin, a cold sweat running down my brow, the scratches on the floor below me, and my heart, wanting to pound out of my chest. Three things I can hear, my heart beat, the plop of a liquid falling onto the floor, and the ticking of my watch. Two things I can smell, gunpowder and the faint coconut smell. One thing I can taste, a faint sour taste in the back of my throat, a taste I associate with fear or a sense of doom.
The ethereal sensation slowly starts to fade away as the weight of my body and mind regain their place. "What the fuck" I repeat once more before I stand. With another breath I stand up and walk back over to the safe. Taking the ammo box I remove three bullets and restock the ammo in my revolver back to 6. Holding the box in one hand and the gun in the other I slowly approach the corpse and look carefully.
It looks dead, no breathing or movement, the place on its neck where the carapace meets the corpse is disturbing. Carefully I poke the spot with my gun, the beast doesn't move, doesn't flinch, I'm confident its dead. Putting the ammo box on the desk I brush my left hand over the connection, its soft and ridged at the same time, like partially cooked pasta almost. This thing was certainly not evolution, looks almost like how a Myrmecoleon from the book of job.
Resting the gun on the desk I push the book shelf back in place, moving any fallen books away from the pale yellow fluid to try and salvage them later. I can now see clearly cracks forming on the carapace of the ant body where the fluids coming from. Dragging the desk back into place and pushing the corpse to the floor I am my gun at it again. "Bang" The shot hits and falls flat, looking at the bullet its still maintained Its shape yet all the damage just fell flet. The impact was clear earlier but how the hell does a book shelf work better than a bullet.
"Do I have to use wood or is it just guns that are ineffective?" Wondering, I go to the kitchen and grab a meat mallet, some knives, and one ceramic knife. I bring these tools to the garage and place them on my dads old work bench, untouched I brush away a layer of dust. Returning to the study I grab the Myrmecoleon and drag it across the house into the garage as well. Grabbing some rope I tie its hind legs up and hang it from the rafters before walking to the bench and grabbing the meat mallet. I swing with all my force at an uncracked portion of the abdomen. With a sound reminiscent of tearing paper towels a fissure in its shell forms.