Dark Waters: Mothman vs the Bunyip

Note from the authors:

This story was a joint effort between Actingup and PennyThompson. Some parts will clearly be the work of one or the other, and some parts have blurred together so much that we can't even remember who wrote it... It was probably the bunyip. All characters and cryptids are fictional, but readers are still advised to avoid swimming alone. Thank you Nynah for beta-reading and cultural sensitivity assistance!

Although written as a stand-alone story, this is partly a continuation of Penny's Mothman is Real, He's My Boyfriend, in which Melanie Mallette has an intimate encounter with a cryptid, the psychic interdimensional creature known as The Mothman, which she names Franklin.

Ingredients list (mild spoilers):

3 cups epistolary fiction

2 cups consensual monsterfucking

1 cup non-consensual monster mindfucking

1/2 cup fear and dread

1/4 cup lesbian sex

14 millilitres driving on the other side of the road

1 tablespoon creative supervisor relationship management

1 dash time zone shenanigans

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

3 March

Dear Dr Mallette,

My advisor has suggested that I write to you to ask if you can suggest some directions to explore in my research. She's also told me to be concise and to not come across like a stalker given the subject matter. Please excuse me in advance if I get that wrong - I'm a bit nervous about this and I hope I'm not bothering you too much.

Anyway... I read your paper on, um, cryptid intimacies (I need to get this email through the university content filters). I thought it was really interesting and it made me think about some intersections with things I'm looking at. My PhD work is about the gender biases within colonial accounts of Australian settlement and views of indigenous culture. One thing led to another, and I started wondering about how indigenous stories were sanitised or maybe misinterpreted depending on who was telling the story and writing it down, including on intimate matters.

I'll try and cut to the chase. I'm attaching a picture that looks like a blaxploitation monster movie poster, except it's from 1890. The giant panther looking thing bursting out of the water is meant to be a bunyip, a traditional indigenous monster that lived in billabongs and creeks. The naked young woman in its jaws is meant to be an Aboriginal woman.

To editorialize on this picture a bit, the woman's mouth and eyes wide with fear or ecstasy, her nipples drawn so prominently erect, her intimate parts buried in the lips of the monster... this bunyip is very different from the infantilised, Disney-type depictions of bunyips in later literature.

Now, this drawing was probably made by some white guy disguising erotica as cultural knowledge. But was it pure speculation? What would it look like if a woman had painted it? And what would it look like if an indigenous woman had painted it, compared to an indigenous man? I haven't found any direct source material yet to answer that question, but I wondered if I could extrapolate from the overseas experience to speculate what an indigenous woman's view of the bunyip might be, if it had a sexual element. To be honest... it seems to me that a dark and dangerous monster living in quiet waters near me could hardly fail to have a sexual element, regardless of cultural background. At least, I know what I would feel...

I really have to stress that I'm acutely aware of cultural sensitivities here. I'm a young white woman trying to put myself in the place of Aboriginal women drawing on millenia of cultural oral traditions that have largely been lost to history. My plan is to use this to construct a hypothesis around a gendered view of monsters and intimacy, and then basically attack myself with any evidence (or lack of) that I can find, and then see where that lands and what can reasonably be concluded. Finding an actual bunyip would help, of course, but in lieu of that I plan to visit some areas of western Victoria and see what I can find out.

Okay, so my question... based on your subject interview experiences, and the further research that you mentioned in your paper (I hope that's going well?), do you think that it might be possible to extrapolate from male accounts of a monster to a female view, if that female view has largely been unrecorded? And perhaps to speculate about different cultural interpretations? I hope that makes sense for me to ask. There's nobody in Australia that seems to have any insights like yours. That's not me trying to pump up your tyres: your research seems to be genuinely unique from what I can work out.

Thanks in advance for any time you can spend in replying and sorry again for bothering you when you probably have many other things to be doing!

Kind regards, Miranda Appleyard (PhD candidate)

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

4 March

Hi Miranda,

Well, this was a surprising email to read first thing in the morning! First off, please call me Melanie. I've only got my MFA and I'm still debating whether or not to pursue a DFA. You'll be a doctor before I am!

I do appreciate your interest though, this kind of made my day. My thesis on monster erotica hasn't generated very much conversation, other than some very explicit emails from a couple of creeps. It barely even got published, and that was after a ton of revisions... Sorry, you don't need to hear about my dissertation trauma.

Anyway, I think your research sounds absolutely fascinating! My research and... experience is mostly focused on modern European and North American monsters and erotica, so I don't know much more than a shallow Wikipedia dive's worth about Aboriginal Australian creatures.

I've tentatively explored some Indigenous American mythology though, and this puts me in mind of the Wendigo. A Native American writer (Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer, 2013) and researcher speaks of them as a creature with undying insatiable hunger, and uses it as a metaphor for extractive capitalism and ecological exploitation. But I don't feel I have enough cultural expertise to speak with any authority about the topic, so I'll leave it at that.

To try and poke at your question, I do think a lot of insight can be gleaned from monster erotica and cryptid folktales. Often that insight has more to do with the worldview of the person and culture recording or re-telling the story than with any underlying reality.

Aquatic monsters in particular have a few different implications!

One narrative lens with which to view aquatic monsterfucker stories is the predatory, thalassophobic viewpoint. The Siren, or Selkie, or Creature from the Black Lagoon represents a fear of the unknown, a fear of being pulled to the depths through either seduction or force, consumed by the waters and never seen again. Undeniably sexual.

Can I ask more about your understanding of the bunyip? From what I've read, it seems like there's no singular agreed-upon physical description of it. Some tales describe it as a monstrous aquatic mammal, like an otter or a sea lion. Some describe it as more amphibian, or reptilian, or fish-like.

It makes me wonder if this amorphous nature comes from the original Aboriginal narratives, or if it comes from the settlers' perception? I'd love to hear more about what you're planning, research-wise!

Sincerely,

Melanie Mallette, MFA

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

5 March

Dear Melanie,

Thank you so much for your reply! It means a lot to me. I'm sorry to hear about the creepy emails that you got. I know how that feels.

'Thalassophobic' - I admit that I had to look that up, but I think you nailed it. It's deeper than just a fear of water - it's the vastness, the deep terror, the immensity of the unknown ocean. Physically, bunyips are meant to live in smaller bodies of water - creeks, billabongs, rivers, but I think the way some of the descriptions work, the use of the bunyip in telling children not to go to forbidden places, and the vague (amorphous, as you say) descriptions suggest that the bunyip is like a projection of something much deeper from the unknown world. I'm really not an expert on this, but the sense that I get is that if you've encountered a bunyip, you've been taken by the supernatural. And it's interesting that a couple of the settler accounts from different places specifically mention 'an Aboriginal woman got taken...'

You mentioned that Hokusai print in your article. It's one of my faves - I was really disappointed when it wasn't included in a big Hokusai exhibition here recently, but perhaps they didn't want to scare their sponsors. I think I know your answer, but just to confirm, do you get a sense from your research into.. okay, I'll say it and see if it gets through the filters... monsterfucking... that there's an encounter with a projection of the wider, more dangerous universe in a sense of the gods? (And I say 'projection' advisedly :-)) And an injection of that unknown, into the body of the lucky recipient, with the possibility that it might change their fundamental nature and also plant a literal seed in their womb and therefore change the human species? It seems to me that (contrary to Greek myth?) the mysterious, terrible unknown probably doesn't actually give a damn what an ordinary man might contribute if it's a male-to-monster interaction, but a monster-to-female encounter is a very different thing. And it might make me want to explore my own family tree more carefully.

To answer your question on the settler's perceptions: yes, absolutely. The early Australian settlers were a mixture of convicts, desperate economic immigrants, sealers and whalers, gaolers and half-decent people. Kind of like my ex-boyfriend. In some cases there was an obvious intent to erase Aboriginal culture, and in some cases ignorance did the job, but in all contexts I think that overwhelming Western cultural lens would have been a huge factor in the way that stories were recorded.

At the moment, I'm spending a lot of time in the reading room at the State Library in Melbourne. It's a wonderful space. I'm finding out everything I can about bunyips. I'm going to go to the Royal Society of Victoria as well, as they may have something in their old journal collection. Lots of whiskered men staring down from the walls in that space! But sooner or later, I'm going to go bush, I think, find a place near a billabong, and start listening to whoever I come across and to what the wind through the trees might tell me. I need that in my life anyway right now (I won't bore you with the details).

Once again thanks for writing back to me!

Have a great day,

Miranda

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

9 March

Hi Miranda,

Mmm, I love a good library! The big historic ones with cathedral-like spaces are a special kind of intoxicating.

I needed to think about your latest question for a while, the one about monsterfucking being a glimpse into a world other than our own, whether that's primeval creatures, or gods, or other dimensions. There's a lot of precedent for that in mythologies worldwide.

Even the Abrahamic religions have references to the Nephilim, which seem to be the result of human and fallen angels coupling, "injecting," a bit of godly essence into human wombs, giving birth to giants and culture heroes.

Of course, we don't usually have any primary source documents from the woman's perspective, of what it might be like to make love to a fallen angel, or even if those couplings were consensual.

I don't know very much about the Australian Aboriginal "Dreamtime" cosmology, but it seems like that could be relevant to this conversation and to your interest in the bunyip?

I don't need to know personal details if you don't want to share them, but I do appreciate the need to get out of the stacks and into the natural world! Just... be careful with your field research. Until recently I would have treated this topic as just an interesting literary or academic exercise, but these days... Well, "More things in heaven and earth," and all that.

♥️Melanie

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Professor Greta McGraw (supervisor)

9 March

Dear Professor McGraw,

Just to let you know that I contacted Melanie Mallette as per your suggestion. She responded straight away and she's really lovely. She's already got me thinking more deeply about things. There's something else too - she's kind of hinted at a 'hands on' component to her research, which I find intriguing. Out of respect for privacy, I think I'd better not speculate too much, and if you don't mind, I'll keep my emails with her private unless there's something really important. But anyway, thanks for your great suggestion to contact her!

Miranda

PS - Yes I know I'm late with the literature review. Nearly there, I think. Just lots of interesting side-alleys keep cropping up.

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Professor Greta McGraw

11 March

Good to hear, Miranda, and just to be clear, I don't need to know any details of what Ms Mallette is doing unless it's directly relevant to your own research. She could be having sex with real monsters for all I know, but unless you're proposing to put that in your own ethics approval as a proposed approach, I can't conceive of any situation where it would be good if I knew any details of that. She's at another University in another country, and they do things differently there. I should know - my first postdoc was not far from her. That said, I do appreciate you checking in with me. Just get the bloody literature review done. As I tell my nieces, the quest for perfection is the enemy of everything that's good in the world. And if they press me further, I say that if they can find somebody who makes a good hot chocolate in winter and is nice to snuggle with in bed, they should marry them immediately. Even if they've got fur. You may tell Ms Mallette that if it seems appropriate in the conversation.

Greta

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

11 March

Dear Melanie,

You've got me really intrigued now! But I don't want to pry.

My own situation is pretty straightforward really. I suppose my ex is a decent enough guy, but he's just a bit crass and boring.

I might just be chasing the strange a bit at the moment as an antidote to that. And point taken - I should be careful. Whatever you've been up to, it's good life advice. Still, if I want to explore the big wide world of the unknown, I suppose that now's the time to do it.

Yes, I think the 'Dreamtime' stuff is relevant. I'm just not sure how it all fits together and I'm really no expert, but it does seem to have a lot in common with other global experiences, just older. I mean, really, really old - the commonly quoted figure is around 65,000 years of Australian settlement. That's a heck of a long oral tradition to maintain.

Something you said... 'even if those couplings were consensual'. It got me wondering whether you can ever really have consent when there are wild imbalances of power. Does one consent to being ravished by a supernatural being? Really? Are there monsters with advanced ideas about respect out there? Are some monsters more primitive than others?

And thank you again for your provocative and interesting replies!

Ciao, Miranda

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

13 March

I mean, I think that idea of opening yourself up to something bigger or stronger than you, or something unknown or mysterious, is often part of the erotic allure of monsters. Love is risk, desire is risk, every new relationship is a brush with danger. But yes, I do believe that there can be consent and respect within a power imbalance.

So, Miranda...

The way we're talking about this subject. The way you're asking these questions. It feels more than just academic?

I want to ask something, and I'm worried that you're either going to think I'm delusional, or you're going to think that I think you're delusional...

Do you believe the bunyip could be real in some way? Not just an oral tradition or a tall tale?

♥️Melanie

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

13 March

I mean... maybe, Melanie? I can't deny the thrill of the possibility, nor that there's an erotic element to that. But rational me says it's impossible. Maybe it's time I go bush, and try and ground myself, and see where that leads.

If you're delusional (which I doubt), then you've still got a peer reviewed publication to show for it. I can make no such claim about myself!

What are the necessary and sufficient conditions for a respectful monster relationship, if a power imbalance is tolerable? Asking just in case I meet a bunyip.

Xx Miranda

PS My supervisor seems to think that the ability to make a good hot chocolate and cuddle is enough, but I don't know that she's serious. She has infamously high standards.

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

15 March

I'm with your supervisor, the ability to cuddle is certainly one critical aspect of a good partner, human or otherwise!

From my research (and... experience) the inherent danger and risk of accepting a dangerous and powerful lover is impossible to escape. At the risk of creating a whole new monsterfucking framework...

It's as if there are a series of doors that any relationship needs to open one at a time, and behind each door is another risk.

The non-consensual monster ravishment fantasy involves the beast ripping down the very first door, not bothering to knock. The big bad wolf huffing and puffing and blowing the house down, devouring the little piggy within.

If you willingly invite the monster into the first door -- maybe because of attraction or curiosity, maybe because of trickery or seduction -- you get the vampire fantasy. The alluring creature who invites or seeks invitation before possessing and having its way with you, even if you come to regret it.

I suppose the "respectful monster" is the one who asks to be invited in, and once inside, continues seeking permission. Being capable of taking what it wants, but choosing to restrain that power. Consent as conversation.

In a way, the respectful monster is also taking a risk. Accepting the possibility of rejection or denial. Willing to walk away if a door remains closed.

But just like with humans, it can be hard to know what kind of monster you're about to open the door for. Just know that if you find anything out there in the creeks and billabongs -- even if it seems hard to believe -- I'll believe you.

♥️Melanie

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

16 March

Wow Melanie. I have to be honest here - I just had a good little cry. You haven't even met me, but conceptually you're willing to trust whatever I say about something that even the most credulous Truth reporter would struggle with. That is so very generous of you. From what you've hinted, I'm feeling like you have powerful evidence for a world that few people believe in.

I'm heading out in two weeks. As you know, I don't really expect to find anything. But you know what? If you can trust me, then I can at least trust you about the potential for respectful monster relationships. I suspect that your (understanding? situation?) might be quite special though - I don't get a sense from anything I've read that bunyips do the 'respect' thing. I think we're more in 'possess and ravish' territory.

I'll keep you posted.

Miranda

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

14 April

Sorry for the gap in transmission, Melanie. I haven't had much to report. I've been moving around some little towns in Victoria's Western District. It's mostly volcanic: lots of volcanoes that just erupted once and left little hills all over the place. Beautiful, rich farming country, although the drought is bad this autumn so it's not very green.

Incidentally, because it's so dry, there's very little standing water, so the creeks and the billabongs are quite low. But there are still places where you can access standing water, and hopefully we'll get some rain soon.

I've got mixed news. I've got lots of little bits of information about my general theme -- the gendered nature of storytelling and the ways that that affects our telling of history. Nothing groundbreaking though, other than to correct some of my misunderstandings and convince me of the importance of strong social networks, particularly here in the bush. Those Country Women's Association ladies -- oh boy, they are totally across all of that, and I've collected lots of anecdotes. And yeah, all the gender stuff is real and I've been given lots of examples.

The local libraries haven't got much on bunyips other than what I'd already seen. But I did manage to get a cup of tea today with some fabulous women, and I showed them that picture that I sent you. It started quite a saucy conversation, and there was general agreement that it is potentially a common fantasy in general but that they wouldn't discuss it with the men. Then one of them suggested I talk to a traditional owner who lived nearby.

Just briefly - a traditional (aboriginal / indigenous) owner is somebody who has an established and enduring connection to 'country' (land and water, cultural memories) and is empowered to speak for it. I don't really understand all of this and you don't want to hear about our politics, but there are all kinds of legal and cultural minefields here as the British made the happy simplification of declaring Australia uninhabited when they arrived, despite the people living there at the time. That's the mess we've all inherited!

Anyway, I wasn't sure what to expect from her - perhaps to be yelled at for cultural appropriation. But she was nice. It was sad though, because she said that almost all of the language and stories from the area had been lost. She did suggest one particular spot in the Grampians (a National Park not far from here) where she thought that if bunyips were real they might live. This spot is a bit off the tourist trail. Maybe she was laughing at the dumb city girl, but she was upfront that she thought I was probably chasing a myth but that this spot was worth a look before I give up. She did ask me to be careful though: said to run if I sensed any danger, and she wasn't joking. She also asked me to check in with her on the way home.

She was actually really interesting. She explained about the recent changes in the ecology due to climate change, with more fires and less rain, and the impact of land use changes. She encouraged me to try and achieve something positive for the area rather than just be another 'white colonial do-gooder' (her words!). And she teased me about my blonde hair and fair skin and said that I needed to be wearing a hat even in mid-winter. Of course her skin is a lovely dark brown.

Anyway, it hasn't all been in vain. I'll go there and think about bunyips for a few days.

Miranda

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

14 April

Hi Miranda, I'm really happy to hear from you again! I thought about checking in the last couple of weeks, but I figured you were probably deep in Lit Review Hell or something.

I'd love to give those Women's Association ladies my monsterfucker survey instrument, ha! It's interesting that the women you talked to said that erotic bunyip fantasies were common knowledge in that area. And I'd love to meet the traditional owner one day of course, but she probably wouldn't have time for yet another international researcher knocking on her door.

In my research monster erotica is usually a fairly private, isolated interest except when shared in online communities. Maybe there's "something in the water," so to speak? A local memory or a shared experience of some kind?

Grampians National Park looks breathtaking, at least on Google Maps. Just be careful out there, it doesn't look like there's much cell service in some parts of the park.

♥️Melanie

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

15 April

An invited talk about monsterfucking over scones, cream and jam sounds like just the ticket for a Thursday afternoon at the Country Women's Association! Perhaps you should come visit sometime!? Qantas have got a big sale offer at the moment through LAX to Melbourne.

I've found a little bungalow near Dunkeld, just south of the National Park, to base myself for a few days. There are not many people around: it's quite nice, and full of wildlife. Kangaroos and wallabies grazing, possums hunting for scraps at night. Last night the koalas were also mating and making a ghastly amount of noise as they did so: who knew that koala sex was such a thing? I must have been listening to them when I fell asleep, because I had the most vivid dreams all night. Maybe thinking about bunyips every waking hour for weeks is starting to affect me!

Listen, I don't want to creep you out, but would you be okay if I sent you some explicit dream details? If I get any more, I'm going to try recording a narration of them as soon as I wake up, and I'd rather not waste time searching for euphemisms like 'his monsterhood'.

It's a lovely morning here. I'm heading to the billabong now. Have a great evening.

♥️ Miranda

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

15 April

Umm yes please, sexy dream details! For research purposes, of course. You never know what could be relevant when it comes time to write the narrative.

I do actually have some airline miles saved up from conference travel... I'm knee-deep in work at the university right now, but it would be amazing to take an Australian vacation after my school year is over. But then it's your winter season... Maybe a visit during my Christmas break? Hemispheres are weird.

But I think I'd enjoy hanging out with you quite a lot. Maybe you could even meet my boyfriend, Franklin... I think you'd like him!

♥️Melanie

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

15 April

Hey MM, just a quick update before I go to bed. I found the billabong (more like a rock waterhole than anything). It's a couple of km (a bit over a mile) off the road, and it's not too hard to get to if you know it's there, although it's weird that it's not marked on maps. It's got water in it. It's quiet, perhaps a bit spooky; it has a particular quality of stillness. A small sandy beach, but otherwise it's surrounded by rocks and trees, and deep in shadow for most of the day from the ancient mountain range just nearby.

I sat there for a while and didn't see anybody or anything. Definitely no people, which is understandable if there's no path to it, but no lizards or wallabies either, which is a bit strange as there aren't many other water sources around at the moment. No animal tracks on the beach either.

When I say 'a while', I completely lost track of time there! I must have dozed off or something, because I thought I'd only been there an hour, but then suddenly the sun was starting to set and I had to rush to get back to my car while there was still some light.

I also thought about having a swim, but chickened out. I'll spend more time there tomorrow, absorbing the vibe, and writing up some of the other field trip conversations.

♥️ Miranda

PS I'd love to meet your boyfriend, of course! I hope he approves of the whole monsterfucking line of research - some men are not so broadminded, as you know. And you can come anytime, and I'll show you Melbourne and take you and your boyfriend to the cricket or the footy, and maybe to meet a bunyip!

PPS The dream last night... sorry, I feel a bit wiped out, but I'll try and give you the gist now. First, I had a clear image of the waterhole, which is funny because I'd never seen it. Second, there was no bunyip as such in the dream, but there was... something. It's a bit hard to recall the rest of the dream now, but when I woke up, I was very, um, moist, down below, my nipples were forming little volcanoes, and I was nude (I normally sleep in a t-shirt and knickers, but they were on the floor). The door was locked, but you'd have sworn a lover had just left, and left me wanting more. I know it sounds a bit Stranger Things (adult version) but there it is. Let's see what happens tonight. I'm going to count bunyips as I go to sleep and ignore the randy koalas if I can.

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

16 April

Wow, Bunyip Billabong sounds like kind of a magical place! Going back to some of our earlier conversations, there are stories in almost all cultures about what the ancient Celts called "thin places". Places in the world where the boundary between the material, waking world and the supernatural, dreaming world is porous. Places where mortals could commune with spirits or gods, receive visions... couple with monsters.

Rationally, scientifically, I would wonder about physical explanations for these feelings. A trick of the light, magnetic fields in the minerals, subsonic vibrations in the ground, or... I don't know, fucking mushroom spores or something. But who knows, maybe there's more to it than that.

As for your dream... I've been there! When I was deep into my monsterfucking research, I had some very vibrant wet dreams. Dreams of being touched and caressed by monstrous hands, held down gently but firmly, pressed against my bed by an unknown presence. Like sleep paralysis, but sexy instead of scary. I literally woke up in the middle of a mild orgasm, once.

Eventually I figured out that there was more to it than just a dream, but...

That's probably over-sharing, sorry! Dream journaling can definitely help if you want to remember the details, either writing them down by hand or recording a voice memo.

♥️Melanie

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

17 April

[Voice memo attached, AI transcription follows]

Hi M'randa let me get this down quickly. Last night's dream was quite different and more like what you described. What I remember at the start is that scene at the billabong again. Just dark, still water surrounded by trees, nothing much happening. The moon was in the sky, so it it was night. I was standing there, just dressed in jeans and a top, and there was uh some weird shift behind me. It felt like my limbs were moving around on their own and just taking off my clothes and then they were on the sand behind me. Then I was lying down on the little beach at the pool, ankles in the water, legs REALLY widely spread, head lying back on my clothes. And I was kind of humping upwards, but I couldn't see anything. And I had that throbbing inside that you get when you've got a large man inside you and it's all working well. In in the dream is was really powerful and also my nipples were hurting. And I was scared in the dream so not quite like yours. But like you I woke up with a real orgasm, except it felt strange. It just went on, and on, and on, and I heard myself howling. I never make much noise during sex but this was more screaming than anything. The intensity was just so much. My vag was just rippling up and down, my clit was on absolute fire. I was naked again. I'm going to have to change the sheets too and I'm not normally a squirter either. Anyway, it was monsterfucking and I can't describe how I know but it wasn't just a fantasy it felt very real and my body is still throbbing as I record this. As soon as I've got the washing on I'm heading to the billabong to see if I can meet it. Let me know if you have any ideas what to do next but I have to go there very soon so I'll read your reply tonight when I have phone coverage again. I might have to go back at night as well. PS I just can't talk to my supervisor about this. She would go apeshit and order me home and I CAN'T. I have to try and meet the monster properly.

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From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

17 April

Miranda I just listened to your voice note, are you okay?? You sound really manic. Given what's happening, I think I need to come clean with something here.

Monsters are real. Cryptids are real. At least, some of them are. I've met one, a Mothman. He's the boyfriend I was telling you about. I know that sounds completely ridiculous, but it's true. And he's good, and kind, and I trust him, but I don't think they're all like that. What you're describing doesn't sound good and kind... It sounds hungry.

I think we need to slow down and think about this, I don't think you should go back to that pool alone. I'm putting my phone number at the end of this message, call me and we can talk? Please?

Melanie

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

17 April (Two hours later)

Please answer me, Miranda. Let me know you're alright. Email me or call me or text me or something.

This is all my fault, I was encouraging you to take risks like this was a fucking blind date reality TV show, and it's not.

Melanie

From: Quantas Airlines

To: Melanie Mallette

17 April (One hour later)

Attached is your electronic ticket receipt.

Flight QF 94, Boeing 787-9 Dreamliner, Basic Economy Class

Madison (MSN) - Los Angeles (LAX) - Melbourne (MEL)

Depart 9:15PM (UTC-5) April 17

Arrive 8:20AM (UTC+8) April 19

(22h 15m travel time)

No return flight scheduled.

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

18 April (early morning, US, six hours later)

I'm on my way to you. I'm at LAX now on my layover before the last leg to Melbourne. Franklin -- my cryptid -- will meet me there. He can't take an economy class flight obviously, but he travels in different ways that I don't totally understand. He'll be there with me.

I'll message you again when I touch down, I hope I've heard from you by then.

Best case scenario, I overreacted and I blew my airline miles impulsively and now I'm going to take an unexpected vacation in Australia to visit a new friend. We can do tea, or go to a rugby game, or whatever it is you do over there, haha!

Worst case scenario... I'm coming, and I'm bringing backup. I'm so sorry I pushed you into this situation, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you the whole truth right away. I hope it's not too late. I hope I'm not too late. I love you, Mir.

♥️Melanie

From: Miranda Appleyard

To: Melanie Mallette

18 April (early evening, Australia)

OMFG!!

Melanie I have a bit to process here. I left you a brief message - you must be on the plane now. I was a bit incoherent, sorry - you can delete it if you've read this.

Deep breath...

First, I feel terrible that you've had to give up your air miles to worry about me. I understand why and I really appreciate it, but I'm a grown woman and accountable for my recklessness. If I get ravished and consumed, it's my misadventure, not your fault.

Second, my head is spinning about your cryptid revelation. I believe you, of course. It all makes sense, but it's just a lot.

Third, yes I'm alive obviously after today. I went back to the pool, and yes I was still buzzing from the dream and the orgasm-on-wake. I did the 2 km walk from the road, and all was still when I got there. I had a little chair with me and some snacks, and I just sat and wrote in my diary for a while. It was just as still and quiet as previously.

Perhaps the bunyip is nocturnal? Most Australian native animals are, so it would make sense if the bunyip was too.

Anyway... I'll see how I sleep tonight. I won't rush there tomorrow, but I do want to see this through, I'm sorry. I'm stubborn like that and maybe I'm a bit possessive of this monster. But I so appreciate you coming out, and I look forward to meeting your Mothman (and I'll expect you to be rightfully possessive of him). When we've worked this out I'll gladly show you around Melbourne and take you to an Australian Rules Football (not rugby!) game. Mothman sounds like he'd do quite well with that game - can he jump high and can he kick with either foot while running? We have one American import, name of Mason Cox, playing with the club I support, but he's going to need to retire soon so the talent scouts will be looking.

I'll probably plan to stay well into the evening at the pool tomorrow to see whether the (presumed) bunyip is nocturnal. Drive safely and I'll see you soon.

And thanks, really ♥️♥️♥️ You're wonderful. I'll make this up to you somehow. I'm so sorry for buggering up your week! You did say you were busy and I know this won't help.

Miranda

Miranda's diary

19 April (morning)

This is a fucking mess. I'm angry, I'm aroused, I'm spinning out of control. I've made myself sit down with breakfast and capture my thoughts after last night. I'm not showing this to Melanie - it would absolutely freak her out.

I didn't have some simple, sexy dream last night. I had long, cruel nightmares. Visions of women, men, animals being drawn into that billabong over thousands of years, raped and then consumed by a raging, amorphous dark mass. Melanie's right: this is a dangerous monster. And it's real, it's got to be real, even though it's preposterous.

I think I'm right that it's nocturnal, and that's how it's stayed out of sight of our safe, modern civilisation. Nobody goes missing there any more, because nobody's allowed to camp overnight. It would take some imbecile, some ignorant, modern twat like me to stumble around there day after day, drawing its attention ever closer to me, finding where I am at night and reaching out its mind-tendrils to try and draw me towards the water.

So this morning when I woke up, I was naked yet again, but I wasn't on the bed. I was outside, bent over the car bonnet, car keys in my hand like I had been about to get into the car and drive to the billabong, but the monster couldn't work out how to control me well enough to make that happen. So instead I was being fucked from behind by a raging phantom phallus, torso plastered to that bonnet and unable to move, feet spread wide on the ground and fluids running down my legs from my arousal. And it was genuinely terrifying, but it was also thrilling in a weird way to feel that total loss of control and to have my whole body shaking, pulsing, exploding again and again in orgasm as it kept at me. I was screaming, I know I was, and I could also feel its climax coming. When it did come, it was like a whole wild, triumphal yell sweeping through my system, using my own voice to vocalise, before it withdrew and left me shattered and crying.

I'm not going to retreat. Nor am I going to surrender at the edge of the pool like some weak, pampered girl scared of getting out of her depth. Fuck that. This is clearly a battle of mind more than of body. I don't want to wait for Melanie either - it's not fair on her. I know the monster is weaker during the day, so I'll go there this afternoon and yell my defiance. It's attacked me while I've been sleeping, so I will stay awake this evening and watch it rise from the pool to get me if it dares. If I strip, if I offer my body, I will be awake, and it will learn some fucking respect.

I'll leave a note on the door for Melanie. Of course I welcome her help, but it's my fight. My fight. Hear me roar.

From: Melanie Mallette

To: Miranda Appleyard

19 April (late morning)

I just touched down at Melbourne International a few minutes ago. I'm waiting in line to get a rental car right now. I got your last message, I'm glad you're okay... or at least, you were okay last night.

Will you call me, please? I don't even know if you have cell reception out there.

I'm going to drive to that town you mentioned earlier, Dunkeld. Hopefully I can figure out where you're staying. I've never driven on your side of the road before, and I couldn't really sleep much on the plane, so hopefully I won't get into a wreck...

You probably think I sound nuts right now. I hope I am.

♥️Melanie

April 19 (evening)

Voicemail for Miranda Appleyard:

[AI Transcription follows:]

Miranda it's Melanie. I'm here, I'm close. I found the cabin you were staying in, I got your note. The lady at the check-in desk had a vague idea of where you'd gone in the park, I'm driving on what is this. Stoney Creek Road. Franklin is here with me. I've only got one bar of coverage so I don't know if you'll get this. [unclear] What? You what? Miranda. Franklin says he can feel something bad out here, something strong and evil. Fuck I'm scared. He can't pinpoint it, he doesn't know where it is. [unclear] Miranda if you get this I need you to think about me, think about me and Franklin. I need you to to um feel as hard as you can, strong emotions. Imagine safety, warmth, imagine being safe in the powerful arms of a kind monster. He's protective, he's loving, he would never hurt you. Imagine that as hard as you can, and Franklin will be able to find you like a lighthouse. Oh God please get this message, Miranda.

[End of message. To call back, press or say one. To delete message, press or say two.]

Excerpt from Melanie Mallette's Journal

April 20 (afternoon, fifteen hours later)

Miranda's still sleeping, she's been out of it for almost twelve hours now. She seems alright physically, some scrapes and bruises, nothing too serious. We're back at her cabin rental outside the park. Franklin flits in and out of our world every few minutes, appearing and disappearing like a mirage, pulling guard duty in two realities. He's hurt as well, but says that it's nothing to worry about. I've asked him to rest, now.

I'm not sure how well I can put this down on paper, how to make sense of it. But like waking up from a dream, I can feel it slipping away one image and sensation at a time, and I need to write it out before it's gone. Maybe Miranda can put down her perspective when she wakes up, and we can piece it all together.

The sun was setting as Franklin and I were slowly driving down that dirt road deep in the park, nobody around for miles and miles. Kilometers, I mean. I had no idea what I was looking for, how I'd know if I found it, what we'd do when we got there. I had been calling and texting Mir's number, always sent straight to voicemail or dropped entirely. My service kept cutting in and out every time we turned a corner or went up or down in elevation, I had no idea if it was even getting out. Or if she had her phone with her, if she could get to it, if she was even alive.

But then Franklin's antennae perked up, and he swiveled in his seat, his huge body barely able to move in the little rental car. He told me -- his voice in my mind told me -- that he felt her, felt her emotions. She was close, and she was hurt, and she was scared.

His big clawed fingers fumbled with the passenger door, then he was gone in a silent rush of air before I could even hit the brakes. His voice stayed with me though, told me to keep driving, when to turn off the road and into a rutted path. Soon I found a small hatchback parked on the side, which I assumed was Miranda's car. It was empty. I parked behind it and scrambled through the bush as best I could for more than a mile, following Franklin's mental directions, using my phone to light the way as the darkness deepened.

I was scratched and bruised by the time I got to the pool, but I still had some breath -- this was a lot more intense than my usual night jog. It was completely dark but the moon was waxing, and the sky was filled with more stars than I've seen in my life, illuminating the pitch black water.

There was a thin, blonde girl standing on the shore, facing away from me. She was completely naked, clothes in a heap on the sand nearby. She seemed to be straining, legs braced apart as she pushed back against some hidden force. I could see the muscles in her legs, bottom and back flexing and heaving with the effort. It was hard not to notice how beautiful she looked from behind, but she was also clearly in crisis judging from her panting and gasping. I hesitantly approached her from the side, not sure what was happening. Franklin appeared out of the darkness and joined us from the other side, silent, watching.

Her expression was screwed up in pain or anger, her fingers balled in tight fists.

"Miranda?" I asked.

"Melanie?" She gasped, her voice ragged, eyes locked on the pool of black water, not looking at me. "I'm... trying to fight it," she said through clenched teeth.

"How can I help?"

"Join me. Touch me, hug me, lend your strength... please."

I hesitated for a moment. Then some... instinct, or intuition, told me that I needed to touch her body with my body, her skin with my skin. It was like dream logic, it made perfect, unquestionable sense. I stripped down quickly, piling my shoes and clothes behind me, and throwing my right arm around her waist as we faced the pool together. She was cold to the touch, but she responded by clasping her left arm around me and pulling me closer.

The instant we touched, I felt the forces of the battle running through me. There was an incredible, inexorable pull towards the pool. Tendrils of dark desire started climbing through my groin, pulsing deeply, moving upwards. I felt myself moisten, my nipples hardening, perspiration over my body. It was thrilling, even if it was a battle of our lives.

The stakes were suddenly crystal clear. The bunyip, or whatever it was, was a sexual monster, an ambush predator. It was trying to force us into the pool where it would have physical power over us. If we went into that water it would fuck us, kill us, and eat us, and maybe not in that order.

But Miranda had proudly displayed her body on her terms and was trying to draw it in with her own sexuality, forcing it to come onto land. It seemed like a hopeless battle, but here she was, and now I was with her. Maybe there was a chance, ludicrous though it seemed.

And I thought I had a difficult path through peer review the first time, I remember thinking to myself. If we survive this, good luck with the write-up.

I squeezed her tightly and pushed my naked thigh between her legs, bracing us against the soft earth. With me supporting her, I felt Miranda relax a fraction, but she was clearly nearing the end of her strength. The pull of the bunyip's willpower was overwhelming, and I could feel its mind tendrils battering at my own defenses. I have no idea how she had lasted this long by herself.

But I could also feel the bunyip's influence changing. It was becoming more angry, more desperate. I think it was weakening, running out of energy. Clearly the locals didn't come near this place, it was ravenously hungry. And we were too tasty for an ancient, starving horror to ignore.

I think Franklin could sense the turning point as well, and his calm voice entered my mind.

«Melanie. Miranda. We must stop this. Please move further away from the water. Now. »

Miranda gave a start next to me, and I realized that she had heard Franklin as well.

"Trust him, please," I said, and together we made a mighty effort to move three steps backwards, the monster's mind fighting us for every inch.

Franklin squared off facing the water, his digitigrade claws planted firmly in the sand. His beautiful moth wings were spread wide, swaying gently, and his hands were at his side, claws extended. The crimson patterns and whorls of his wings flashed and swirled hypnotically, like a matador trying to draw the attention of an enraged bull.

Suddenly, something emerged from the surface. I'm still not really sure what I saw. It was big, dark, bigger than a human, bigger than Franklin. It had arms, or claws, or limbs of some kind, reaching towards us as it lunged out of the pool, but... it fades and jumbles in my memory even as I try to remember it. Panther. Crocodile. Piranha. Humanoid. Something else.

It had a face, I know it did, but I can't picture it. It had bright white teeth shining under the moon. Eyes, predatory, intelligent, full of malice and lust.

We saw it for no more than a second. As it burst out of the water, Franklin intercepted it like a high velocity linebacker, limbs clasping, wings flapping rapidly. They rolled together into a ball of snarling, spitting venom, and then suddenly flickered and disappeared into the night. Silence abruptly returned, the only sign of the fight some ripples still spreading across the pool.

Miranda and I collapsed together on the sand, still clinging to each other. Endorphins were still surging through me: the adrenaline of battle, my desire, the echoes of the monster's darker lust, and relief. Miranda was quivering in reaction as well.

Eventually she spoke.

"Melanie, I take it that that was your monster boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Franklin. He's nice, although I've just realized that he's got a slightly jealous streak. Not that I mind, a girl likes to be appreciated."

"I'd say he's a keeper," she said dryly. And then she put her head on my shoulder and started crying. We sat there, holding each other in the cool night air, waiting to see if Franklin would return.

Excerpt from Miranda's Diary

April 20 (afternoon)

Melanie's begged me to write everything down while it's fresh. I've made some quick notes about the fight, but I'll go back to those later as so much was a blur and my head is still thumping. Here I want to write about what happened after the fight.

Let me start with the bit that I really want her to read. Melanie is a kind, brave, considerate, strong and wonderful person, as well as being as funny and cute as I pictured. And thank God she's a fitness fanatic, because if she hadn't made it and stood with me last night, I don't know what would have happened.. Franklin Mothman is also kind, brave and cute, even if he is a tall moth monster with weird eyes and those amazing wings. We haven't had the chance to talk much yet all together. They are outside at the moment, taking a walk through the bush, although they're not too far away, and I can feel Mothman just touching my aura occasionally to check that I'm safe.

It was a surprise realizing that Mothman could talk to us both at once, although I guess it makes sense. And before I get too delusional, it's very clear that Franklin is here for Melanie, and I wouldn't do anything to interfere in their relationship even if I could. I seem to attract the wrong kind of monster anyway.

After Franklin laid his fantastic, Cryptid-Of-The-Match tackle on the bunyip, they disappeared into another dimension or something. We sat together for a while, my heart thumping and my mind in pieces, and Mel kindly let me cuddle her until I felt up to standing up to put on my clothes. It's strange, meeting somebody for the first time when you're naked, and I guess we were both a bit shy when we dressed in front of each other. Melanie is very attractive, with a finely featured face, hazel eyes that match her hair, a pixie nose, and a petite body that's obviously made for running. Naughty thought - any boyfriend of hers should love to have those muscular thighs wrapped around his hips or head! I hope you're still reading, Melanie...

After we were dressed, it wasn't too long before Mothman appeared out of nowhere. He was looking a bit bedraggled, with wings a bit out of shape and little marks all over his body. There were also a couple of jagged cuts with ichor (or is it haemolymph?) oozing out of them.

Franklin seemed exhausted, but he told us through mind-speech that the bunyip was no more. He was very definite on that point, but wouldn't give details of what happened. Perhaps he was wanting to spare us from the gory details of monster-fighting.

He then astounded me by specifically praising me, and then Melanie, for what we did. He said that it was clear that the bunyip was greatly weakened by its battle of wills with Melanie and I, and that that was the only reason that he was able to overcome it. He said that it was a... how did he put it... a reflection. A shadow of a monster from a previous era. That it was old, really really old. Sitting half outside of our world, half in that pool surrounded by ancient mountains.

After that, we didn't talk much more. We all limped slowly back to the cars in the dark, and we drove carefully back to the bungalow, had a snack, and then slept the rest of the night and until lunchtime today. They both look much better today, but we're taking it easy for now. I guess we'll talk tonight.

Excerpt from Melanie Mallette's Journal

21 April

This part is going to be a weird thing to write down, but given how out of character it was for me, I decided I needed to record it for posterity to remind myself it really happened.

After the climactic battle, after sleeping for hours, Miranda was feeling better, got out of bed and ate some food. We decided to stay at her rental for at least one more night to recover before heading back to Melbourne. I was still tired and jetlagged myself, and didn't trust myself to drive a long distance in the rental car.

I was feeling pretty awkward around Miranda, moving around this tiny one-room bungalow, trying not to brush against each other too much, having been nakedly intertwined the night before. I think she was feeling the same way, laughing nervously whenever we made eye contact, murmuring nervous little nothings as we ate the last of her supplies or shared tea.

She kept sneaking glances at Franklin too, seemingly entranced by the patterns of his wings, finding excuses to touch his fur or breathe in his sagey scent. My Mothman, for his part, seemed content to sit at the bungalow's little round table, reading an old pulp about Australian cowboys -- stockmen, he gently corrected me -- from the bungalow's shelf of wretched books, gently turning its pages with his big clawed fingers.

Franklin and I took a walk outside in the late afternoon, giving us all some space. The mountains were mysterious and beautiful in the light, casting long shadows across the surrounding plains, and the animals in the bush around us were starting to stir. I was nervous about leaving her alone, but Franklin reassured me.

«The bunyip is gone, and will not return. She is physically safe. I can sense her mood and she appears fine, apart from what you call... unresolved sexual tension. »

"She's not the only one!" I said with an embarrassed laugh. There's no hiding your feelings with a Mothman.

By evening it was getting kind of intolerable, and I was feeling just... desperately horny. The bunyip might be dead or scared away or severed from our world, but I think a lingering trace of its lustful influence was clinging to both of us like a residue.

Miranda and I were standing near each other at the little kitchenette, washing up the two sets of cabin dishes and tidying up, when her hand brushed mine. Impulsively, I leaned over and kissed her pale cheek. To my surprise she turned to face me and returned a full kiss on the mouth, which quickly became more passionate than I was prepared for.

Soon we were both breathing heavily, her thin arms around my waist, her thighs pressing into mine as I leaned back against the counter.

She pulled away from me in embarrassment. "Fuck, sorry, Mel... I don't really know what came over me," She said, looking over at Franklin, absolutely mortified. He was observing us placidly, his antennae twitching with curiosity.

"It's okay, Mir, really!" I responded quickly. "I... I think you needed that. I kind of needed that too."

We stood in silence for a moment. Unsure, I think, of what should happen next.

«Melanie. Miranda. I sense a strong sexual desire from both of you. » Franklin's thoughts intruded into ours. «The last two days have been very difficult and stressful. Would it give you pleasure if the two of you mated? »

I looked at my Mothman, then back to my friend, then back to my Mothman. A very vibrant mental image came to mind.

«Ah. You would... like me to join you? » Miranda nodded wordlessly, took my hand, and led me over to the bed in the corner. Franklin followed.

That's probably enough recorded for posterity.

Excerpt from Miranda Appleyard's Diary

21 April

I'm sitting outside as the dawn chorus washes over me. Kookaburras laughing joyfully, making the announcement of another day, magpies warbling as they organise their households, bell birds starting to sound their soft, beautiful chimes. It feels like everything has been born again, and somehow I know that down at that billabong not far away, the same sounds are ringing across the water, and the wallabies and wombats are coming down to drink at what used to be a silent, deadly pool.

Melanie told me that she was just going to write a brief diary note about last night. She was happy but embarrassed, and of course I get that. So it's up to me to record things in what to her might be excruciating detail.

Let's start with an unexpected but longed-for kiss as we did dishes together (Franklin didn't eat, and wasn't the best at holding a slippery plate). I'm not the type to fall into bed quickly. But after all we had been through in such a short time, it just felt right, and I could feel my body swing into full 'fuck me sideways, front and back' mode. There was a moment of acute embarrassment of course, and I'm still worried about messing with their relationship, but it was quickly smoothed over.

When a gorgeous friend and her monster suggest a threesome, what's a young woman going to do? They didn't cover that in finishing school, but the obvious answer is to roll with it.

Anyway, the dam broke, and pretty soon Mel and I were both naked, tangled together on the squeaky bed with the raggedy quilt, fingers and mouths exploring each other's bodies.

Mel decided that I was in greater need of immediate relief than she was and got me on my back, leaning over me, her muscular thighs straddling one of my knees. With little desire for foreplay, she stuck her tongue in my mouth as her fingers gave my pussy an enthusiastic twiddling. Thumb pressed gently into my clit, index and middle massaging my g-spot, it didn't take long for an orgasm to ripple through me, leaving me whimpering into her open mouth.

She slid over and lay down next to me on the bed, tracing a finger along my stomach as I caught my breath. "Fuck, I needed that. Thank you, Mel..."

I reached towards her to reciprocate, but Melanie gestured with her eyes across the bed to the Mothman, who was watching us silently from a respectful distance. "I think Franklin needs something too... if you're both interested..."

The big grey cryptid didn't have facial expressions that I could interpret, but his current state of mind was not in doubt. Emerging from between his legs was a large, pink member, unlike any human cock I had any experience with. Tendril-like and alive, it swayed back and forth like it had a mind of its own, like it was looking for something.

I looked back at Melanie, undeniably hungry, but not wanting to take from her plate without asking. She grinned and nodded. "Franklin... why don't you have a seat on the couch," she said to her boyfriend.

Monsterfucking. She said it was a real thing, and I said I would believe her. Well now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Franklin the Mothman stalked over to the couch and sat down, his big, beautiful wings spread out like a work of art behind him, the red and grey patterns swirling sensuously. His huge, unblinking red eyes watched as I approached him. I climbed up onto his lap facing him, my legs straddling his soft-but-muscular legs, his cryptid cock sticking up behind me, nestled between the cheeks of my bottom, undulating softly.

Not wanting to rush what I assumed was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I rested my head against his powerful chest and wrapped my arms around his torso, feeling his strength and warmth, feeling the last of my tension and fear evaporating from my body like morning dew.

The Mothman seemed to know what I needed in that moment, and drew his wings around me like a blanket, wrapping me in a soft embrace. God, I was so envious of Melanie and Franklin, but so thankful to share what they had, if only for an evening.

"Fuck me, please?" I whispered. He wordlessly obliged, and his prehensile cock slid between my legs and gently probed the opening of my pussy, before slowly entering. With every step of penetration, his wings vibrated gently along my back, down and then up again, bringing fabulous shivery delight to my spine. I moaned loudly as his inhuman length finally penetrated me fully. He was a perfect fit.

"Jesus, what's going on in there?" Mel quipped from outside of my velvety wing-cocoon. Not expecting a joke at that particular moment, I was overcome by a giggling fit as I started bouncing up and down on Franklin's lap, relishing the sensations enveloping me, inside and out.

"You'll... find out... soon enough," I moaned to my friend. "We've got... all night!"

From: Miranda Appleyard

Greta McGraw (supervisor)

21 April

Dear Professor McGraw,

I'm just checking in - sorry it's been a while. I had a wonderful surprise - Melanie (and her boyfriend) came out to join me doing the field work in Western Victoria. It's all been pretty uneventful so far and I've collected lots of useful data, and also learnt some interesting research techniques from Melanie. Her boyfriend is into mixed martial arts, so that removed any lingering risk management concerns about working alone in the bush as a young female student.

Incidentally, regarding that 'bunyip' line of enquiry, I did get directions to a small waterhole in the Southern Grampians with an evil reputation. I checked it out, with help from the other two. I can state categorically that there's no bunyip there.

I'll see you back on campus next week. We need to drop in to a traditional owner on the way back, and we're taking things a bit slowly. I'm going to show them a little bit of the volcanic country too.

Kind regards, Miranda

From: Professor Greta McGraw (supervisor)

To: Miranda Appleyard

22 April

Thanks for that, Miranda. It does help me demonstrate that I fulfil my duty of care when you check in with me at least once a month. Please invite Ms Mallette to drop past my office with you if she has the time: I'd be interested in hearing about her experiences with the ethnographic approach, and any observations she has about the northern hemisphere context. I assume her mixed martial arts boyfriend can entertain himself at the gym if we have a girl's lunch in Lygon Street? Unless you think he's so interesting that I should meet him too?

Greta

29 November

The Bunyip Will Take You: A gendered reading of Australian cryptid mythology

M. Appleyard and M. Mallette

Abstract. This study uses insights from recent ethnographic analysis to reexamine the gendered narratives of cryptids during the colonial settlement of Australia in the late 1700s and early 1800s. Historical accounts of 'bunyip' tales, sourced from indigenous oral traditions and settler legends, are evaluated using a critical schema. Portrayals of the cryptid are classified into three categories: 'Normative Hegemonic' (cautionary tales used to reinforce social norms and patriarchal compliance), 'Passive Sanitized' (depictions of the bunyip as a family-friendly, cuddly, clownish mascot figure), and 'Subversive Erotic' (a dangerous, highly sexualized, male-coded monster that stalks and consumes female victims). Examples are given of each type, and compared to some North American analogues. The authors argue that these categorizations are consistent with contemporary examples from the Global North, and could be used as a lens for intertextual analysis of other mythologies.

PRESS RELEASE

15 December

New walking track for Gariwerd (Grampians) National Park

Parks Victoria have announced today that a new walking track will be constructed to a previously unmapped rockpool in the southern Gariwerd (Grampians) National Park.

"The pool was known, but not mapped for cultural reasons," said Parks Victoria CEO Nathan Jones. "After a reassessment and consultation with traditional owners, that restriction has now been lifted. The pool is an attractive, cool swimming spot nestled south of the Victoria Range, and easily accessible from Dunkeld. The area is now teaming with wildlife following a recent shift in the local ecology."

Construction of the new track is expected to take six months. The pool has been named by the traditional owners as 'Appleyard's Tarn', for reasons that have not been disclosed.