Image: Mark with @any1mark66.
My mother would shriek telling us the bunyip would get us if we didn’t behave.
We loved to play along the creek that ran behind our place. It was an adventure wonderland as there was no end to the exploring we did and the things we found.
One day she’d discovered we’d used her best bed sheets to dump mud from the creek on. We argued there might be gold in the creek, but mum just roared all the louder.
“He’s gonna get cha,” she yelled at us dragging her best linen into the laundry.
We went back to the creek and noticed there was something different. The water was more murky than normal.
I picked up a rock to lob into the brown water just as a scaly hand shot out and then everything went black.
My brother John and I had become statues on the creek bank. In the distance, mum was singing to herself. Birds flew round us, and a large duck crapped on my head.
Our new lives had begun.