Creature of the Blue Mountains

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My name is Thomas, and I am going to share my Monster story with you. This story is set in 2012 and I was a lot younger than I am today, this was in a place called Blue Mountains National Park in Australia and I remember this as clear as day.

My Grandparents lived in the Upper Blue Mountains in a place called Blackheath, a beautiful place with deep gorges and high cliff-tops. My father, me and my Mother visited them in around Winter 2012, we stayed at the house they lived at and it was very cold. The national park had a variety of wildlife, ranging from Kangaroos to Wombats to Possums, you could easily get lost in the dense, thick bush.

On the last night of our stay at their house, me and my Dad went “Bunyip-hunting”, because of my Australian heritage, Bunyip meant a creature which would live in a swamp, and was a mythical, dreamtime story by the Aboriginal People, the Natives of Australia. Me and my Dad didn’t take that much with us, since we planned to be back at say around 7.30 at night. We set off in our deep ocean blue car at 5.30 and the sun began to set and we reached a cliff-top where we looked off into the valley at about 6.00 PM. There was still a little bit of daylight left and the oily pink dotted the sky.

Me and my Dad sat there as we talked about life and other things, we looked off and the valley was quiet, and the high cliff-tops were becoming blue. Then, we heard a loud crack through the bush, my dad stood up, and I followed. Another crack whipped throughout the bush and me and my dad shared looks of being confused, terrified and curious.

All of the sudden, more crashes began in the bush and then, we saw the branches move. I wasted no time and began to run, run until I was back at my car. My dad followed and we sped as fast as our legs would carry us back to our car. We then switched it on and drove off down the pitch dark roads and off to my Grandparents house.

When we got back to my Grandparents house we were out of breath and we told everyone what happened. My Grandpa did not respond, instead he went nervous. He was a cyclist in the Blue mountains and took the road to a lookout called “Evans Lookout”. He had seen some strange stuff, but he had heard nothing like our story.

Whatever that thing was, i’m glad I didn’t take a look at it.

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