I remember when I was a young’un I used to be terrified of Friday the 13th. It wasn’t even so much the movies that scared me though a couple of times I crashed in my mom’s bed within a day or two of seeing one of them. I’ve always had very intense and graphically violent nightmares for as long as I can remember. While to this day I still love horror movies, they rarely even startle me so good luck trying to scare me, back then seeing those movies probably wasn’t the best thing for my young creative mind to soak up. Fortunately, I prefer to sleep by myself and don’t suffer from night terrors or some chick would’ve been pressed charges on me. I don’t think I ever had a nightmare when I was sleeping next to my mom. She was like my personal dream catcher or something.
Detroit used to have two small local theaters called the Mercury and the Norwest. Friday the 13th movies were a pretty big deal. People would literally be lined up around the block to get tickets to see it. It was an event. Maybe it was what sparked my love for going to the movies in the first place. My sister had this weird thing where she’d cover her ears whenever they played that creepy music while Jason was stalking people right before he killed them. She didn’t cover her eyes while this was happening, just her ears because the music freaked her out.
I was more scared of the actual day, Friday the 13th. I had paraskevidekatriaphobia, which is fear of Friday the 13th as opposed to triskaidekaphobia, which is the fear of the number 13 (13 is acutally a lucky number for me). Well, more specifically the night. In the back of my mind what would start as a stupid prank would end up with me or someone I cared of getting murdered. Don’t even let my mother try to go outside that night because I was her shadow’s shadow. Where you going? Why? Can’t somebody else do it? I’m glad my mother is not me because I would’ve staged some horrific prank and scared the piss out of me. She finally had to sit me down and explain that nothing was going to happen. At worst someone might soap a window, no biggie just get the hose and wash it off. Nothing ever happened. No pranks, no murders, nothing.
Eventually, like most childish things I outgrew that fear. I outgrew a lot of things once I became more mature, jaded, cynical, and logical. Sometimes I miss those days of innocence and gullibility. Anyway, Happy Friday the 13th! May your vicious murder be creative and memorable!