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Queenie's True Ghost Stories #1

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I've always been fascinated by ghosts/spirits.  I never thought I'd have my very own, personal ghost story though.

My SIL was murdered quite a few years ago now.  She and I were both 21.  She was what I'd call a bad-ass, kind of a troublemaker.  She loved to go out partying and hanging out with her friends, coming in at all hours of the night.  One night her body was found on the side of a road, she had been shot in the head.  My grandmother's first words to me were, "well, are you surprised?"  Actually, no.  I was beyond devastated though.  She was the first person I knew who had been murdered.  No one knew what happened, and there were several people who could have been mad enough to have wanted her gone.  

The strange occurrences started happening almost right away.  A day or so after her funeral, I walked into the house and as I got into the living room, I heard her call me from her upstairs.  My immediate thought was "COOL I'll be able to ask her what the hell happened!"  I started to run up the stairs, got halfway up and realized she was not there, she was dead.  Damn I must have a good imagination.  

A couple of days after that, I woke up in the morning and her mother asked me where I had been coming from last night in high heels.  She said she heard me in the middle of the night.  Huh.  Not me, I had only been wearing tennis shoes.  She just said “oh, must have been Annie coming home.”  She said it with no surprise, no panic, nothing.  

I started having strange dreams.  We all regularly playing the street numbers (before lottery came out), and if you dream about something you look it up in a “dream book” and it tells you which numbers to play.  So I dreamed about her and played her numbers.  Sure enough I hit.  Then it started happening more often.  People at work would gather around my desk every morning and asked what I dreamed, and THEY all started hitting the numbers every time I dreamed about her.  The best time was, I dreamed I went to a party, and someone was showing me pictures of her funeral.  That was on a Sunday night.  I played numbers representing her name, the party, the pictures, and the funeral.  On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday I hit!   Her mom said, “I don’t know why she always comes to you and not me…” My thought was that I pay attention, and also played the numbers in the box and not just straight like she did.  From then forward, every time I dream about Annie I play her name, and then when I hit I make sure to give her mom a little money.

One of my favorite times was quite a few years after she had passed away.  It was her mother’s birthday.  I was walking into the store, and I said out loud, “Hey Annie, it’s your mom’s birthday, let me hit the lottery and I’ll give her a birthday present from you.”  WHAT THE HELL the number came out, straight.  I won $500.  I took $100 over to her mom and said “here’s a present from Annie for your birthday.”  Again, she was not surprised, just happy.  

Many, many instances of feeling her presence happened.  I’ll tell just a couple more.  

I had an album that she and I had listened to quite a bit.  I was playing it, sitting in my living room, thinking about her.  I shut my eyes, listening to the music and I swear I could feel her there.  As I got up and walked out of the living room, it was freezing!  When I went into the next room, it was a normal temperature and I couldn’t feel any weird “vibes”.  I walked back into the living room, it was freezing and I could feel her again! I kept going back and forth, room to room, cold to normal, just to see if it was my imagination.  By this time I knew she was probably around.  And of course I hit the number in the days after that.

Last but not least (for purposes of this story).  At least a couple of years after she passed, I was driving down the street near the cemetery where she was buried.  In my head, something said “go see Annie”.  No, I don’t think so, I have things to do.  NO GO SEE ANNIE, came through again.  I literally felt like I had to grip my steering wheel to keep the car from driving over there on its own!  So I gave in and went to her grave.  As I sat there talking (sobbing) to her, I asked her to please, please let me know what happened.  As I left, a thought popped into my head, “call the detective.”  We hadn’t had any contact with the police for quite a while.

When I got home, I told my grandfather what had happened.  The first thing he said was “you better play that number!”  I did, and of course I hit.  J 

The next day I made a call to the Sheriff’s Department.  There was a new detective on the case who had just received it and he was quite pleased to have someone to ask questions of.  We talked for a good half hour about her friends, her habits, and what had happened.  He told me that they were pretty sure her (married) boyfriend killed her, and he had failed a lie detector test.  She had last been seen breaking out the windows in his car, at the plant he worked at.  The detective said they couldn’t prove it, and that they just couldn’t figure out how her body got out on the side of the road in the far-out ‘burbs.  And his boss said he was at work the whole time.  This is where the blessing comes in.  I just happened to know that his boss, was his cousin.  And his cousin had a different junk car every week.  They didn’t even know that his cousin was his supervisor (who was the one who verified he was at work).  And there had been so many cars, you’d never be able to figure out where and which one he had at that time.  The detective felt that this was the information that explained what most likely happened.  I was so grateful and so at peace to at least have some idea what actually happened.  I really felt like she answered me when I asked her to help me find out what happened.  If she wouldn’t have said to call the detective, I would have never known.

The boyfriend was never charged with her murder, as there was still not enough evidence to charge him.  However, one day about 15 years after she died, I picked up my free neighborhood newspaper and there was a story on the front about the boyfriend!  Turns out he had become addicted to crack, and was caught robbing old ladies outside the grocery store.  He spent time in prison and the last time I checked he had absconded while on parole.  

It’s been a long time now since I’ve dreamed about her.  I like to think that her spirit is finally at peace.  

Hope you enjoyed!


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