Norman Park Hauntings

It's been some time since my first posting here on YGS, so I offer my apologies for my tardiness in setting out another eerie story from my youth (life gets in the way of things as we know).

This tale takes place 5 years after the events of the New Farm ghost story I had posted earlier.

So settle in with a beverage of your choice and a snack and I'll begin.

It was around May of 1984 and I had not long turned 19. My Father, little brother Robert and I plus my Father's drinking

Buddies Kevin and Johnathon had moved into another rental house, this time in the Brisbane suburb of Norman park.

This was a high set Queenslander weatherboard house on stumps about 15 feet above the ground, built around 1900.

All in all, not a bad place to live for once I thought, far better than the previous low rent slums my alcoholic Father and his

Mates procured. This house was not only clean and airy but also well maintained.

My room was at the front of the house, part of a converted verandah with lovely street views through the many large

Windows and it wasn't long before I had decorated it to my tastes. Life seemed good there for a few weeks, then the strange

Occurrences began.

Now I'm a very particular person and like to have a place for everything and everything in its place. Perhaps I'm a little OCD and was always in the habit of placing my wallet and keys neatly on my bedside table, never just somewhere random. I was also into making plastic models so all my equipment was set neatly and stored so I could lay my hands upon brushes and paints, glues and cutters at will with no need to hunt about.

One afternoon while working on a model I decided to take a break and go to the local shops and buy some snacks. Rising from my chair I went to my bedside to collect wallet and keys only to find my keys missing. I thought this was rather odd seeing I remember placing them where I always do, patting my jeans pockets just to be sure. The only other place I had been was the bathroom when I first returned home earlier.

Puzzled, I went to look there, knowing full well I wouldn't have set my wallet down without my keys. Just as I had thought, no keys in the bathroom, so scouring about I made my way back to my room. On entering my bedroom, there, plain as day on the bedside table, next to my wallet, were my keys.

Naturally this threw me for a moment but I pushed it from my mind and off to the shops I went, I was a hungry young man so food took precedence.

Returning from the shop with my bounty of drinks and junk food I placed my keys and wallet in their proper place. I sat at my modelling "desk", an old His Masters' Voice radiogram 3 in 1 and listened to a little New wave music as I admired my handiwork and snacked away contentedly. I then did a little more prep work on the model Avro Lancaster bomber before it was time for dinner.

Once dinner was finished and the dishes done, I decided to wander off to the bottle-shop and buy some beer, seeing as Dad and his cronies were drinking I thought I could do with a couple myself. Off goes I to my room for wallet and keys, well you could have knocked me down with a feather, keys are gone, again. Now I was beside myself, I knew they were there just before I went to eat. Searching about my room, checking besides the bedside and under the bed I found nothing. Frustrated, I glanced back to where I had first put them, only to find them right there, beside my wallet. Now I was feeling a little uneasy and definitely needed a drink so snatching them both up I headed out. My keys did their little vanishing act a few more times over the next month or so with various modeling tools following suit for good measure, always turning up exactly where I had left them. By this time I knew what was going on, though mentioning it to my Father always brought a negative response. Needless to say I was slightly on edge by this stage, especially after laying in bed and feeling as though I wasn't alone. I often had the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes while living there and the uneasy prickling over my body telling me that something wasn't quite right.

Not very long after the caper of the keys and such I was sitting on the couch with Kevin's small black and white cross breed dog called Toho laying at my feet.

I remember it was a Friday night and I was watching Rage, a music video show. It was about 1am and the house was still, everyone else had been asleep for a few hours. I was enjoying the show, catching the latest clips from the likes of Madonna and other up and coming musicians. Suddenly, Toho jumped up beside me, his hackles raised as he looked beyond the lounge room into the dining room and kitchen that were in darkness just beyond the lounge room door. Familiar prickling engulfed my body as the dog began growling quietly, looking as though he wanted to confront whatever was there though was afraid. I glanced up from the dog towards the doorway and froze in shock. There, moving from the dining room into the kitchen I saw a dark shadow in the shape of a person. I was stunned and for a moment thought it was a burglar. I launched myself from the couch and was in the kitchen in a few seconds, slapping the light switch, flooding the room in stark brightness.

The room was empty, I nervously looked about noticing the window was still locked and all was as it should be. My heart was pounding and my hands were trembling as I switched off the light and hurried off to my room, Toho at my side as I hurriedly climbed into bed. In the morning I mentioned what had happened to Dad and his pals. My Father just gave me that look of his and told me to get my hand off it, Kevin and Johnathon said nothing so I thought it best to keep quiet.

A few nights later I awoke needing the bathroom and throwing on some shorts I sleepily made my way down the hallway, through the lounge room then dining room and into the bathroom. I turned on the light then lifted the lid to the toilet. Standing there going about my business I noticed the toilet brush started swaying back and forth in its' white plastic holder. Slowly at first then faster and faster like some demented metronome as I tried to hurriedly finish whilst in the depths of sheer terror. The manic toilet brush then came to a sudden stop and I was glad I had just finished or there would have been an untold mess. I bolted back to my bed and cowered under the blankets. Needless to say I didn't mention this to my Father lest I set off his violent temper, though I did mention it to Kevin and Johnathon. Kevin told me to keep it quiet but he had seen the exact same thing about a week before and had also found his dresser draw open on a few occasions. After having had previous experiences, that Kevin and Johnathon were also aware of, offered me little comfort.

For the next few weeks a sense of calm reigned over the house, beside the odd vanishing and returning item or the occasional feeling of being watched.

One Saturday night not long after, at about 2am, I was laying in my sleeping bag on the lounge room floor watching Rage. I somehow felt safer in that old sleeping bag and was enjoying the show when there was a loud knocking at the front door. The knocking continued as I clambered out of the sleeping bag and dashed for the door.

The knocking was very loud and I recall thinking it was mates of mine and how they'll wake everyone up, then I'll be in for it. This knocking, this pounding at the door continued all the while, stopping only once I threw the snib on the lock and flung the door open. Nothing, not a soul, only the cool night air.

There is no way anyone could have stopped knocking and gotten away without being seen or heard. There were a long set of stairs to get down or a 15 foot drop had they decided to jump with nowhere to hide in the front yard. I nervously closed the door and locked it then went to bed, needless to say I had little sleep that night.

The usual missing and returning routine went on but I didn't mind that compared to the alternatives.

Not long after this we suddenly moved out, before the lease had ended. Dad had found a place opposite the beach in a bay-side suburb. Strange for him to break a lease and lose precious drinking money doing so. I had often wondered if he had seen things too and decided to get out?

After moving into the new place near the beach I asked my little brother if he had noticed anything strange, he stated he hadn't. I didn't want to mention anything to him while we were there as he was only 11 years old and would have lost the plot being the softy he is. Around this time, Kevin told me he grew up in that area not far from the haunted house. There was apparently an elderly lady who lived there in the early 1950's but passed away when Kevin was young. Perhaps it's her?