She's Really Back!

Juliana's POV

My knees buckled when a familiar face greeted me with a smile.

“Juliana.” Ate Maribel coyly looked at me. “It’s been a while. How are you doing?”

I rushed to her and hugged her so tight I wasn’t sure if she could still breathe. “I miss you so much, Ate. Where have you been all these years?”

She stroked my hair with love. “Sorry if I left. I did it for you and Nana. If I didn’t leave, they would pester you.”

“Who?” I asked, noticing Nana walked to the kitchen.

“You don’t need to know. It's for your safety.”

As she said that, my mind travelled back to the time when a cryptid monster snatched her. I will never forget each bat wing that expanded to about a meter in length and the half-human torso of a female carrying Ate while flying.

When I told Nana about what I witnessed, she collapsed in fear. Since then, we had thought that she might be dead after being victimized.

“A manananggal took you,” I mumbled.

Ate stopped stroking my hair. She gently pushed me so she could see my face. “You saw that?” she whispered, making sure Nana, who was in the kitchen.

The Manananggal, notorious for its terrifying nature, was one of the creatures a person wouldn’t want to encounter at night. They would hide among the thick forest before applying pungent-smelling oil on their bodies during the full moon to hunt for prey. Once they finished their oil ritual, their upper torso, from the waist up, would grow bat-like wings and separate from their lower half.

Their diet consisted of human organs, including the heart and the liver, from men they lured to inconspicuous areas, as well as pregnant women. They would hover on the roof of the house where an unsuspecting sleeping victim lived. Then, they would poke a hole big enough to dangle their long, proboscis-like tongues through the roof and puncture the woman’s stomach to suck the fetus from the womb. They were also believed to prey on old, sickly people, consuming their phlegmatic discharges, which was gross!

I did my research about the creature I saw that snatched Ate.

I nodded at her question and tried to look at her straight in the eye, but she averted her gaze.

That was unusual.

She never avoided my stare before that incident. She said that she loved my eyes; she loved looking at them because they were so expressive.

‘If you want to know what a person’s real feeling towards you, look them in the eye. Eyes don’t lie even if the mouth does.’ She would often tell me that. But why was she avoiding my gaze?

Her behavior intrigued me. Likewise, I could smell something weird coming from her. It wasn’t body odor, though. She didn’t have that flaw even if she didn’t use deodorant. She used to have the scent of roses with hints of sweat from being under the sun, but she never stinks. The awful odor her body was releasing was a mix of rotten meat and not taking a bath for days, although she looked clean.

I almost gawked, but I stopped myself to avoid offending her.

“I’m not sure, though,” I said. “The sky was covered by the mango trees’ canopies that time. My brain must’ve played tricks on me that night.” I lied, especially when her facial expression switched from sweet and caring to defensive and secretive. “Don’t worry about it. Welcome home!” I gave her the sweetest smile I could strike to mask the suspicion I was feeling then.

**

Dear Diary,

I just arrived at Nana’s place to start a new psychological thriller novel about the two traitors. I was greeted by my long-lost half-sister, Ate Maribel. I miss her so much! But something’s off about her. Meeting her again after several years makes me feel like I know and I don’t know her at the same time. Same face, but different people. Weird, right?

Do you think it’s time to explore a new genre? How about I write a mystery novel instead?

Guess I need to be cautious and vigilant around her.

I set my diary aside. It was a habit of mine to take notes about my daily activities and happenings because I sometimes use them as a reference for my stories.

I slammed my exhausted body on my bed, seeking warmth amidst the icy night. We didn’t need air conditioning units in the province. The trees surrounding our humble abode served as our cooling systems.

The stillness of the night, in synch with the chorus of singing crickets and croaking frogs, was lulling me to sleep. But as my eyes were getting droopy with heavy lids, a loud thud on our roof threw me awake.

“Nana?!” I called as I ran out of my room, not minding the creaking sound of the bamboo floor.

As I ran to my grandma’s room, I bumped into Ate Maribel. She had just come out of Nana’s room.

“Why are you in a hurry?” she asked. She was holding a small basin with a soaked towel in it. She used to wash Nana before going to bed.

“Something landed on our roof!” I said. My heart was erratic, and my knees wobbled in fear.

Ate chuckled. “What were you thinking about before running here? It might be a ripe mango fruit that fell.”

“The mango tree has fruits?”

“Uh, huh. We should check it tomorrow. Let’s climb it like we used to before,” she said before tapping my shoulder. I tapped her back, which surprised her. It was just an impulse because I read that if someone suspected of being a manananggal tapped you, you have to return it to them. Their tap was so powerful that it could put unsuspecting victim under a spell or hypnotism and lure them to their demise. “What was that for?”

I coyly smiled at her, saying it was just a habit I had adapted from the people in the city. She let it slide, though, and didn’t pay much attention to it.

“I'd better go to bed now. I’m so exhausted,” I said before turning my back to her, only to look at her again to say, “Thank you for looking after Nana.”

When I stepped into my room, I hurriedly grabbed my diary and scribbled:

PS

Ate tapped my shoulder, so I returned the tap. Am I being paranoid? Or am I just reading too much about folklore?

Whatever!

I have decided to write a mystery novel since it’s what I’m in the mood for.

Looks like I need to be a spy from now on.