Somewhere in Redhill (Singapore) one midnight, a Chinese bloke was returning home after having a couple of bottles of Carlsberg beer at the nearby hawker centre, and as he staggered his way to his nearby flat – he noticed a Chinese woman in her early 20s at the foot of the block, near the lift landing area.

As he approached her location, she coughed badly and began to speak to him, matter of fact, though he could sense a piteous urgency in her voice, as she spoke in Mandarin.

“Excuse me, are you from Malaysia,” she asked.

“Why … uh … yes, how do you know,” he replied in Mandarin, startled.
She was dressed in black – a loose black blouse and black jeans, and a black rubber sandal – and claimed she’s from Malaysia too.

“Please, can you spare me some change,” she asked again, shyly.

She had needed some taxi fare so that she could go to work at a bar in Geylang, and had pleaded with him to spare her some money, and had even promised to return him this token.

He was still sober, and sensed the urgency in this fellow Malaysian’s voice, and gave her ten dollars, out of sympathy, and smiled, telling her at the same time that it was alright, and she did not have to return him the money.

She gave him a piece of paper, with a telephone number written on it, and promised to return him the money without fail.

“C’mon, it’s just ten dollars,” he had retorted.

But she insisted, and her face gleamed with emotion and gratitude – but he was on his way up the staircase, and staggered on.

He had not thought much about this incident, but some days later his roommate had noticed this piece of paper with a phone number written on it, and went about in their flat, searching high and low for a similar piece of paper written on it.

He had noticed the commotion and asked him what was wrong, but he merely smiled and went about his business, and shouted in bewilderment.

“What’s wrong,” he had commented.

But his roommate began to wept, and explained his story.
His roommate had also seen this poor Chinese woman, dressed all black, many nights before, and their encounters were similar in details.

They deliberated, and he began to weep too, and both had come to this conclusion, that she’s a ghost.

Why?

Well, she must be one, they believed, and as they pored over the Chinese newspapers for the 4D lottery results for the past several weeks, the case was clearer, as those who wept began to smile, and laughed, and then cried again.

The telephone numbers on the two pieces of paper were the same 7 numbers, and after each encounter, the winning numbers for the first prizes of the Singapore 4D lottery were the first and last 4 numbers of the same 7 numbers on the 2 pieces of paper that this ghost had given them.

They were stunned!

Note: This story was told by a Chinese-Malaysian who lives in Penang, Malaysia – and he later recounted how he found out that there was a Chinese-Malaysian woman in her 20s who had rented a flat (like he did) in the Redhill area; and she had worked at a bar in Geylang, and was constantly abused, tortured and tormented by her Chinese-Singaporean boyfriend (who lived off her meager earnings) to the extent that she could not tolerate her miserable life story anymore, and had chosen to commit suicide by jumping off the 10-story flat (dressed all black – in black blouse, black jeans and black rubber sandals) where she had lived with her Chinese-Singaporean boyfriend, a member of the 24 Ang Koon triad group in Singapore.

ML in Denmark