The Deal

The Unluckiest Friday

The fear of Friday the 13th does not stem from just one legend or a single lore, instead it is the accumulation of instances regarding the number 13 and Fridays that have garnered much fear on that fated day.

The number 13 has been forsaken for generations; omitted from hotels, snubbed in the Code of Hammurabi, and seen as a harbinger of death. These beliefs may stem all the way back to The Last Supper and its original 12 guests –the 13th? Judas. This monumental event made dining with 13 guests a bad omen, until that number began to leak into every part of life.

Some believe this superstition was spurred on by the fact that women have roughly 13 menstrual cycles in a year, a witch's coven conventionally has 13 members, those with 13 letters in their name are inherently evil (Charles Manson, Jack the Ripper, Adolfus Hitler to name a few).

The fear of this infamous date really grew to flame in 1307 when the Knights of Templar –a powerful religious group- were arrested on trumped-up charges in France on Friday the 13th and executed. The tragedies didn't end there as more people have faced their ends on this day; Kitty Genovese, Tupac Shakur, and the bombing of Buckingham Palace.

After this, the date was popularized by novels and Hollywood film franchises that demonized the date and struck fear in everyone's hearts. Superstitious or not, everyone tends to be a little more cautious when the 13th day of the month falls on a Friday.

Which would be today.

Like a military leader I have been strategically preparing for this day since I saw it pop up on my calendar at the start of the year.

The ritual began last night with a deep sage cleansing of the home and hours of meditation with Nan before the clock struck 12 and she went home to board herself up in preparation for today.

As I did with my mother's death anniversary, the mirrors are covered in fear of spirits pulling me through the dimension and to the other side. The ants have congregated in the corners of every room in the house and the windowsills where Nan helped me sprinkle sea salt last night.

Sea salt in the corners of the home and the windowsills put a protective seal around the perimeter and keep out evil spirits.

Above this windowsill in the front room hangs a Hamsa Hand ornately painted in a brilliant blue that reflects the sunlight in streaks across my furniture.

A symbol from the Abrahamic faiths, the Hamsa Hand when hung right-side up wards against evil. It is a powerful protection amulet that wards against evil thoughts, insecurities, and jealousy. In this position, the fingers are spread apart to stop bad luck in its tracks and ward off the Evil Eye.

Among many other measures taken, these two are the most important and usually the most effective in protecting me from harm on this notorious day.

This day, the anniversary of my car accident eight years ago. A day that also landed on a Friday.

As always, when I wake up, it is because of the tingle that courses down my spine and pinches the nerves there –reminding me of that day and the shard of glass that found it's home there and stopped my lower half from moving for nearly a year.

The anniversary of the worst day of my life and a Friday the 13th.

An involuntary shiver courses through me at the thought and my mother's heavy presence bears down on me like a weighted blanket. Instead of suffocating me, the feeling is almost comforting.

My phone is lit up with messages from the only three people to ever text me:

Nan: Allumer la bougie blanche. (Light the white candle).