triskaidekaphobia
Who’s got a scary story?
Image Credit: skalasinc
Categories: arts & entertainment, history, language
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Who’s got a scary story?
Image Credit: skalasinc
Categories: arts & entertainment, history, language
Hoyden About Town 
Not a scary story so much, but I’ve broken up with/been dumped by three boyfriends on Friday the 13th.
I imagine that would make the date possess a certain frisson of apprehension though, Keri.
Do you morph into a black cat on Friday the 13ths and scare them off, or what?
I have no idea. The first time, it was the first boyfriend I was really serious about, and he never really explained why.
The second was the man I thought was the love of my life, and it was his yearly freak-out.
The third I found out had been cheating on me, and got shown the door pretty quickly.
I’m not seeing my current paramour today, so I’m hoping the phone doesn’t ring!
I’ve always wanted to have a scary story. I loved all those supernatural tales when I was a child and would lie awake at night willing myself to see some apparition or make something fly across the room. I’m a bit miffed that it never happened. I consider it a personal failing that I apparently lack the imagination to even summon a small poltergeist. Joanna Lumley told a cracking ghost story in which the ghost told her to get out of the house on moving-in day and threw a bunch of roses at her (well the scent thereof anyway) when she finally left.
As it happens today is the anniversary of the death of someone I was close to and it was a Fri 13 when they died in 2003. Checking the weather today I noticed that the wettest and driest Junes on record here occurred in the years of my birth and his respectively. Not even remotely scary or significant. *sigh* sometimes it is boring being a skeptic.
I remember spending a while as a teen being scared during our camping trips with the bushwalkers because of reading/seeing some slasher fiction about a man with an axe attacking people asleep in their tents. Nothing quite like waking in the middle of the night while everyone else is asleep and nervously listening to the noises of the bush and imagining the lurking worst. Especially if it’s one of those moonlit nights with scudding clouds that keep occluding the moon so that it looks like things are moving outside the tent.