The Diary Of Amy Street (deceased)

The Diary of Amy Street
(Deceased)

Friday 22nd April
11:45 pm
Today I died! I was murdered as I walked home from work; I had been on the night shift again.
I didn’t have time to see who it was, it all happened so quickly. One minute I was hurrying down the road, the next I was on the pavement bleeding to death.
I did hear a voice as the person ran away. It said ‘now who is the big star?’ what shocked me the most was that it was a woman’s voice. I thought I had imagined it but I was sure I recognised the voice, couldn’t place it though.
I think I am a ghost because I am still here, I can still see, hear, smell, taste and feel everything around me and it’s almost like being alive apart from the strangest feeling of not quite being all there. Oh and the out of body experience was a bit of a giveaway as well! One minute I was led there wishing someone would find me and hoping the pain would go away and the next, whoosh, I was in the air looking down on my body and all the pain was gone.

Part of me wants to stay with my body, you know, just to see what happens to it and part of me wants to find out what cool things I can do now I’m a ghost, and the rest of me just wants to know who it was that killed me. Hmm, dilemma.
I think I will stay with my body for now, because if I am a ghost then I am going to have all the time in the world to do all those other things.



Saturday 23rd April
7:31 am
Someone found me! Some poor old dog walker out in the early morning found me and called the police. I’m surprised the lady didn’t faint or something because I have to say it, I don’t look a pretty sight this morning! She must have a strong stomach for all that blood.
The police are on their way now and I think they said an ambulance was coming to move my body off the street.

8:57 am
Well the police turned up and have put one of those white tent things over my body and have closed half of the road off. And there is a forensics guy taking pictures of my body and the scene and there are loads of men in those funny white overalls examining me and the crime scene.
Wow, I never thought I would be involved in a crime scene! Haha, not as a ghost anyway.

9:23am
Hmm, there is a young copper interviewing the woman who found me, he is quite hot, what a shame I am dead!
I really don’t know how all those forensic people can do their jobs; I know I couldn’t do it. I hate the sight of blood and trust me there is plenty of it all over the place.

11:11 am
Ooh, I think they have found a bloody footprint. Why didn’t I spot that earlier? They have got a little measuring thingy out so they can find out the size of it . . . size 6, well that’s a pretty common size. Looks like a dolly dap shoe to me; there isn’t much grip or anything by the looks of it. They are just taking pictures of it now.

I wonder if they will find the murder weapon, I didn’t find it earlier but then I didn’t go very far from my body.
I think I’m going to go for a wander down the road a bit. Or should that be float?

5:18pm
Well they have finally moved my body; I’m sat in the back of the ambulance with it on our way to the pathology lab.
I wonder what the police think about my murder and all that. Maybe I’ll go and sit in their car for a bit.

Whoa! That was weird. I was just thinking about sitting in the police car and then suddenly I was there. That is so cool, being able to just wish myself somewhere!
The police appear to be quite confused. They are saying they will have to find out about the ‘victim’s’ history before they can decide if this was a gang attack, a revenge killing or a completely random murder by a psychopath or a mass murderer.
Well I’m voting for revenge killing, given that I recognised the voice, but they will never know that because I am dead, Bummer! I am, somehow, going to have to make sure I give them a shove in the right direction so we can both find out who did murder me.
... Although, it would be pretty awesome to say that I was killed by a mass murderer! Not that I could physically tell any living person. Man, this sucks! I am going to have to find a way of communicating with the living otherwise this could get very lonely . . . unless I find another ghost to keep me company, but I have no more idea than fly as to how to find one. Perhaps there is some sort of place where ghosts all hang out? I wonder if there is one nearby. Man, it’s harder than it sounds, being a ghost, and this is only my first full day of being one! Never mind, at least I have forever to learn everything (!)

Anywhooo! Back to dealing with my murder mystery (he he, sounds cool). That voice is really bugging me now, I know that I know the voice from somewhere but I still can’t place it, it’s so frustrating!! I just cannot think if anyone who would hate me enough to do that to me. I’m just racking my brains to think of any such woman in my acquaintance who sounds like that and is possibly evil enough to act out revenge on me. I guess I will just have to wait to see if the police come up with anything, when they go digging around in my past. I’m not sure I like the sound of them doing that! Mind you, I’ve got nothing to hide, and I’ve done nothing wrong. Squeaky clean, I am! He he! Seriously though, I have a perfect record, nothing at all. No crimes, nothing, model citizen I am.


Sunday 24th April
I wonder if my family know I’m dead yet? I just suddenly thought, I haven’t heard anyone mention contacting my next of kin yet.
OH MY GOSH! Bertie! Oh poor Bertie, I totally forgot about him. How could I forget about my lovely little Bertie? I must go and check on him; else flipping Moira will be ringing the RSPCA again. Then, because they can’t contact me, poor little Bertie would have to go to the dog’s home. I wonder if Dave will have him back. He is still registered as part owner. Does Celeste like dogs? Can’t remember. Oops!
Right, must go check on Bertie, like ASAP. Actually how would I get Bertie to Dave’s? Or Dave to Bertie?
Damn, didn’t think of that. Grr. Why is everything so darn difficult? It’s quite stressful being dead you know!
Will Bertie be able to see me? I think I heard once or read somewhere that animals can sense supernatural things. But will he know it’s me? I really hope he doesn’t start howling and crying. That would really upset me. I wonder if he senses it already . . . I heard a tale once that, oh no wait, the dog was beside their owner when they died.

Aww poor Bertie is starving, I’ve found that I can pick things up like poltergeists can (which is awesome), and so I put some food down for him. I think he knows it’s me. When I first came through the door, all the hairs stood up on his back and he started whimpering, but I softly called to him and he settled down straight away. He even looked straight at me so I guess that Bertie can at least sense I am here, if not actually see me. He did look puzzled when I put the food down for him, but his need to fill his stomach over-rode his puzzlement.
He is now sat stuffing his face while I am sat at the kitchen counter trying to figure out a way of either getting him to Dave’s or possibly my parents , although I don’t know if they would be to happy to find Bertie on their doorstep with no explanation from me.
Ooo I have just noticed that I have an answer machine message, let’s have a listen . . .
Awwww that made me cry. It was from my dad, he was just checking I was okay. I was supposed to go to my parents for Sunday lunch today. He was a bit worried because I didn’t turn up and I didn’t contact them to say I wasn’t coming. Mum will be cross; she hates it if I stand them up with no excuse.
This, of course, means that they don’t know yet. Surely by now the police should have contacted them. It’s not even been on the news yet. I hope the police contact them before it appears on the news. When is it going to appear on the news? It must do eventually. Big white tents and half the road closed off can’t escape media attention for long, not in a city.
Oh what am I going to do about poor little Bertie?
If I just leave him here, at this rate it’s going to be days before he gets re-homed, either by the RSPCA or by the police. If I take him to Dave’s or my parent’s, how will they know that they need to look after him without me there to explain? I could attach a note to his collar explaining, but I can’t guarantee that they would read it, and if they did find it how would they react? Think I might chance sending Bertie and a message to Dave, I don’t really want to give either mum or dad a heart attack. But what do I write is the next question? ‘Hi, I’ve died, look after Bertie, from Amy’?! He will think it’s a practical joke!
Right then note is written. It says ‘Amy is in trouble, please look after me, or take me to Amy’s parents. Thanks.’
Now I’ve just got to get Bertie to Dave’s house and see what happens. Getting there may be a problem. Luckily we both live near train stations. If I time it just right no one should spot Bertie sneaking onto the train.

Well we got here okay, was a bit weird when no one got off at the same stop as me and Bertie, must have looked odd to see the door open of its ‘apparent’ own accord and Bertie happily trot out!
Stood on the doorstep now waiting for Dave to answer the door, wonder what his reaction will be?

He looked straight through me, and then spotted Bertie. He groaned and asked Bertie where I was. Bertie just whimpered and put his head down, Dave then spotted the note. He read it and cursed. He then patted Bertie and said that he couldn’t stay at his because Celeste hates dogs, so he must go to my parents.
I felt really cold all of a sudden, and then Celeste came to the door and asked ‘what is that ugly mutt doing here?’ Good old Bertie growled at her. Dave explained that Bertie was my dog and that he still had part ownership of him. Celeste said ‘we aint keeping the damn thing, I don’t need any more things that are going to remind you of her.’ Bertie was still growling at her. Dave said he was going to take Bertie to my parents and went back into the house to get his keys and put his shoes on. Celeste stood on the doorstop looking at Bertie, who continued to growl at her. She then called him a f***ing stupid mutt, just like his owner and kicked him! I was so enraged I picked up the nearest thing and threw it at her. Poor little Bertie was howling now, and Celeste screamed as the flowerpot I had thrown hit her in the chest. Good shot I thought smugly! Serves her right!! She was covered in mud and bits of plant but I took no notice of her crying as I tried to calm Bertie down.
Dave came to the door to find out what all the noise was about. Celeste blamed everything on the dog of course. But Dave didn’t believe her for a second.
‘How can Bertie have thrown a flowerpot at you? I know you hate everything that has anything to do with Amy but you cannot blame a little dog for something as stupid as that!’
Celeste just stormed into the house and slammed the door.
So now we are sat in Dave’s car on our way to my parent’s house. Of course only Bertie knows that I am in the car.