The Australian Outback is a vast land of mystery, where silence stretches across red deserts, eucalyptus forests, and hidden swamps. But it's not just the harsh terrain that keeps people cautious—it's what lives beneath it.
In Aboriginal lore, there's a creature spoken of in hushed voices: the Bunyip.
A being of water, bone, and darkness.
---
I arrived near the Murray River, a place dense with wetlands and ancient energy. Locals warned me to avoid the swamps after sunset, especially Billabongs—those calm, isolated ponds where the Bunyip is said to lurk.
An old Aboriginal man named Warrin agreed to speak with me. His people had guarded the tale for generations.
"The Bunyip is not just a beast," he said. "It's a spirit. A watcher. A punisher. Some see it as a giant dog-like creature, others a serpent, or a seal with tusks. But all agree—it drags the disrespectful under."
---
That night, I went to a billabong by myself. Foolish, maybe, but I needed to see. The air was thick, almost too still. The frogs had stopped croaking. Even the wind hesitated.
Then I heard it.
A low, gurgling roar. Like a growl underwater.
The surface rippled. Once. Twice.
I stood frozen.
A pair of yellow eyes emerged above the waterline—only for a second. Then, silence again.
Suddenly, my recording device glitched and shut off. My flashlight flickered. Something brushed my ankle.
I ran.
---
The next morning, I found wet, claw-like impressions in the mud beside mine. No one else had been there.
Warrin later explained:
"Bunyip means 'devil' or 'spirit' in some old tongues. But not all Bunyips are evil. Some protect the waters, the land. If you take too much, if you break balance—they remind you not to."
---
Australian settlers in the 1800s reported bones of strange creatures they believed were Bunyips. Some say they were extinct megafauna. But others—especially those who've heard the roars at night—believe the Bunyip is still watching.
Still waiting.
In the mud, in the water, in the silence between breaths.
---
To be continued…