The Manananggal’s Kiss

A Bloody Valentine for You

It is time for a bloody valentine in the form of a short story. Consider this story my official warning to all my beasties out there not to go to the bar on Valentine’s Day. I repeat, do not do it. It’s amateur night and people will get hurt. Stay in and read horror instead. If you must go to the bar, be sure to travel in packs.

This tidbit of fiction is inspired by last week’s monster, the Manananggal. I’m experimenting with a darker style in this story. This is probably just the beginning of a longer story but I am still undecided. The part of the Manananggal folklore that freaks me out the most is the part where a normal human can be transformed into a Mananangal by a mouth-to-mouth interaction between the human and the monster. This interaction involves a transfer of something natural, yet very unnatural. This is the part of the folklore that reminds me of a vampire, not the angsty, sexy kind, but the brutal and horrific kind who took everything from a mortal. For this story, the focus will be on that interaction and that type of monster.

*Warning - there is a bit of body horror and a slightly erotic/horror scene (tame). So, if that’s really not your jam, don’t continue. Instead, you can check out one of my all ages graphic novels full of snarky monsters and magic or go find me on Bluesky. I’d love to connect with you there.

If this type of story is your jam, by all means, continue reading!

art by RenzZero

The Manananggal’s Kiss

It starts like it had started every night for the last few weeks. A tickle begins way down in my throat. Then, I can’t swallow. Something is blocking my airway. I am certain that my throat is going to close up forever. I panic. This is how I die. Alone in my apartment. Betrayed by my own body.

Except, I don’t die.

What happens is much worse.

I stumble to the mirror and open my mouth as wide as I can, leaning in and pulling my neck inward as I attempt to see as far down my throat as possible. A pair of black bird eyes gaze back at me as sweat drips down my forehead. It chirps. I choke. My vision blurs and when it clears again, the eyes are gone.

I can breathe again. Then, I can swallow. The itch slides back down my throat until it is a dull pain in my abdomen. But, now, I’m so, so very hungry. Famished. This ravenous appetite started two weeks ago with a desperate kiss. I’m filled with the kind of hunger I won’t be able to ignore much longer. The kind I wish I had ignored the night of that kiss.

As I struggle to catch my breath, I recall that horrible kiss I should have never given and the stranger who gave it back. She was beautiful and grotesque all at the same time, morphing from goddess to monster as she slinked across the dive bar to my stool. Repulsion is the first thing I felt. I should have heeded it. She was way too old for me, but impossible not to look at, impossible not to talk to, and ultimately, impossible not to kiss.

It was easy to get me to have that third drink, in fact it was my idea. Even easier to get me to go outside behind the bar alone, desperate for touch of any kind but absolutely starving for hers.

Her tongue was too thin, unnatural, alien in my mouth, and then she thrust it so far down my throat I was sure the tip of it touched my intestines before it retracted. When it did, I swear it pulled a part of me out. I recoiled, staggered back, but then I wanted her to do it again. Begged her even. She did, over and over, until I clung to her shirt, pleading to take me anywhere to finish, however that end transpired I did not care. There was only a dark need. She shook her head and brushed my lips with hers, covering them completely to form a seal. I waited for that horrible tongue to penetrate again, longed for it. It never came again. I whined and pushed into her. An entirely new sensation followed. She sucked my tongue into hers and it touched the back of her throat. I moaned as something slimy and feathery latched on to its tip. I may or may not have tried to pull my body from hers, but she held me firmly against her with a supernatural, irresistible strength. Against every rational thought, my tongue pushed deeper as the thing inside her clawed onto it. Her lips clamped harder onto my mouth, sucking and bruising my face, as something slimy and unnatural crawled down my throat to fill the void she had just scooped out of me with her insect-like tongue. I gagged and whimpered yet I wanted that void filled. Her seed writhed and wriggled down my throat to burrow into a hiding spot deep within. Every muscle in my body constricted and contracted as the moment of disgust and horror climaxed and transformed into waves of pleasure and pain, rolling over my insides, causing my body to shudder and spasm. My knees buckled and she lifted my limp, trembling, body against her. We were one monstrous yet sensuous, throbbing cluster of nerves until the last wave crashed. She slowly peeled her lips away from mine and dropped me at her feet. I whimpered and my body slumped to the ground. I spit several times, wiping our combined hot, sticky saliva across my cheeks. I gazed up at her as she wiped her swollen lips. Before she turned and disappeared into the dark alley, she leaned down close and whispered, “There is no god at night.” At the sound of her raspy voice, I wanted her all over again and thrust my body off the ground towards her, lips parted, clawing at her legs, an offer of complete submission. She blanched and pushed me away with the same repulsion I had first felt when I saw her watching me from across the bar. My hands slapped against the dirty concrete, and when I finally caught my breath and lifted my head again, she was gone.

I stumbled home, completely unraveling, swearing never to go to a dive bar desperate again. God would never have sanctioned that kind of soul-shattering kiss, the kind that only happens late at night to the very broken. I made promises to be better as I plunged into a restless sleep the moment I crashed onto my bed, so grateful for making it back whole and safe.

Except I didn’t. I was no longer whole. That kiss had split me in half and repulsion and hunger were my new constant companions.

A cracking sound resonates against the interior of my skin, vibrating my muscles, rattling my bones, and chilling my blood. This process always follows the appearance of my new monstrous companion - the tiny black chick in my throat - the gift given with that horrible kiss. As the chick crawls back down my throat, my body convulses, and I double over, stumbling, nearly crawling out of the bathroom toward the front door of my small Craftsman home.

Flinging open the front door, I bellow up to the stars, and the skin on my back expands and tears. Giant bat wings unfurl out of my shoulder blades like a black chick from its shell. When they fully expand, they pull me toward the night sky away from my home. My toes lift off the inside doormat as I fight to stay inside. I wail in agony. Veins bulge to the surface of my face, blackening as my eyes redden and teeth sharpen. My hands grip the door frame pulling against the beating wings. A fingernail breaks, and one hand loses its grip. My body jerks upward. I howl. A bloody slit forms across my waist, and blood drips onto the worn wood of the porch as my torso tears from my lower half like elastic silly putty before it snaps. My feet plop back to the ground. My bottom half sways in the doorway as if wishing me a bon voyage. My breath is ragged as the door slams shut, and the wings lift me away from my better half and toward the hunger, bloody entrails dangling like kite tails.