Black Friday

There’s something deeply unsettling about Fridays that fall on the 13th of the month. And no, I’m not talking about that fleeting moment of dread when you realize payday is still a week away. I mean the real chill, the one that creeps into your bones, triggered by whispers of bad luck and ancient curses. Black Friday—no, not the shopping frenzy kind—is a day steeped in superstition, a cauldron of dark myths and strange tales.

But why? Why does this day hold so much power over our collective imagination? Honestly, I’ve asked myself the same thing. I remember one particular Friday the 13th, sitting in my grandmother’s creaky old kitchen, the smell of sage burning faintly in the air. She swore the date was cursed. “You don’t cut your hair, you don’t travel, and for God’s sake, child, don’t look at your reflection in the mirror after dark.” A superstitious relic, maybe, but she said it with such conviction, such fear, that even now, as a grown adult, I hesitate before making plans on this ominous day.

A Day Born of Fear

Let’s start at the beginning—or as close as we can get. The fear of Friday the 13th, or paraskevidekatriaphobia (try saying that three times fast), seems to be an unholy union of two separate fears: the dread of Fridays and the anxiety around the number 13. Both have sinister reputations in their own right. Combine them, and, well, you’ve got yourself a superstition cocktail strong enough to knock out even the most rational of skeptics.

In Christian lore, Fridays are notoriously unlucky. It’s the day Jesus was crucified. Add to that the fall of Adam and Eve, supposedly on a Friday, and the execution of the Knights Templar on Friday the 13th in 1307. Coincidence? Maybe. But try telling that to someone clutching a rabbit’s foot on this cursed day.

Then there’s the number 13. Oh boy. It’s been called the “Devil’s Dozen,” and honestly, the whole world seems to agree it’s trouble. Hotels skip the 13th floor. Airlines avoid row 13. Even in Norse mythology, Loki—the mischievous god, the one who brought chaos—was the 13th guest at a dinner party in Valhalla. And that meal? Yeah, it ended with death.

So, when these two unlucky forces collide—bam!—you’ve got a day that practically oozes bad vibes.

The Legends That Linger

What fascinates me the most, though, is how these fears seep into our stories, how they shape the way we see the world. Every culture, it seems, has its own version of the Black Friday myth.

In Greece, for example, it’s not Fridays but Tuesdays that get the side-eye, especially when they fall on the 13th. Why? Because Tuesday was the day Constantinople fell to the Ottomans. It’s like history itself conspires to give us reasons to fear certain dates.

Then there’s the tale of the HMS Friday, a ship that was supposedly cursed from the start. Legend has it that, in the 19th century, the British Navy wanted to dispel sailors’ superstitions about Fridays. They launched a ship called the HMS Friday, hired a crew on a Friday, and even set sail on—you guessed it—a Friday. The ship and its crew were never seen again. Did this really happen? Probably not. But the story has lived on, passed down as a cautionary tale, a grim reminder not to tempt fate.

And who could forget the connection to horror movies? Jason Voorhees, the masked killer of the Friday the 13th franchise, has turned the date into a pop-culture phenomenon. But it’s not just about gore and jump scares. These stories tap into something primal—our fear of the unknown, the uncontrollable.

Why Do We Believe?

Here’s the thing: superstitions like Black Friday endure not because they’re logical, but because they’re emotional. They thrive on uncertainty, on that tiny voice in your head whispering, “What if?”

It’s human nature, isn’t it? To look for patterns, to try to make sense of chaos. We want to believe we’re in control, that we can outwit misfortune if we just avoid walking under ladders or stepping on cracks. Superstitions give us a sense of agency, a way to fight back against the randomness of life.

But they also connect us. Think about it. How many times have you bonded with someone over shared superstitions? “You’re afraid of breaking mirrors? Me too!” It’s like a secret club, one where the membership fee is just a little irrationality.

A Rational World Still Haunted

Even in our modern, hyper-logical world, the myths persist. I mean, have you ever noticed how quiet it gets on Friday the 13th? People cancel meetings, avoid major decisions, maybe even stay in bed. Insurance companies report fewer accidents, not because the day is safer but because people are too afraid to risk anything.

And yet, there’s a part of me that loves this irrationality. It’s like a small rebellion against the sterile, data-driven lives we lead. For one day, we let ourselves believe in something bigger, something darker. It’s almost romantic, in a way.

Breaking the Spell

But here’s the twist: maybe the bad luck of Black Friday isn’t real. Maybe it’s self-fulfilling. You expect the worst, so you notice every little mishap. You stub your toe, and instead of brushing it off, you think, “Of course. It’s Friday the 13th.”

I’m not saying we should dismiss these legends entirely. They’re a part of our culture, our history. But maybe, just maybe, we can reclaim the day. Turn it into something positive. After all, isn’t it kind of beautiful how much power we’ve given to a single date? How our imaginations can take a random calendar square and turn it into something magical, even if it’s a little spooky?

What It All Means

At the end of the day—or the end of this rambling essay—the myths and legends of Black Friday aren’t really about the day itself. They’re about us. Our fears, our hopes, our desperate need to find meaning in the chaos. They’re a mirror, reflecting the stories we tell ourselves about the world and our place in it.

So, the next time Friday the 13th rolls around, maybe light a candle. Say a little prayer, or toss some salt over your shoulder if it makes you feel better. But don’t let the fear win. Remember, it’s just a day. A day we’ve decided to imbue with meaning, for better or worse.

And isn’t that kind of wonderful? That even in our most irrational moments, we’re really just trying to make sense of it all, to weave our own myths, our own legends. Maybe Black Friday isn’t cursed after all. Maybe it’s just… human.