Friggatriskaidekaphobia? I don’t think so. If anything, I suffer from Friggamoria. Friggatriskaidekaphobia, is the fear of Friday the 13th. As for me, 13th or no, I love Fridays. In fact, if the day can summon enough ghosts to have declared holidays, all the better is my notion.
As teenagers, we often outdid one another in extra-ordinary ways (the euphemism for dumb). One time, we got it into our heads that the one thing that would make us all invincible was if we summoned a ghost. Yes…a ghost. I am not sure whose idea it was exactly, for we were clearly not very bright. Once we’d decided to summon the ghosts, all that was left for us was to decide which one. Some ghastly research later, we agreed that it had to be someone who had an untimely death – somebody who would have to have some reason to lurk around. Some unfinished business and someone famous.
If you are going to go through the trouble of inviting a ghost, it might as well be someone you can get an autograph from.
I don’t know whether you have summoned a ghost before, so let me walk you through the process.
– Some gullible teens
– A candle
– A matchbox
– A solitary stool
– A white sheet (You need to give the ghost an illusion of company – duh!)
– A corridor nearby (required for the time when you run shrieking like a demented banshee)
Preferred Date & Time: Friday, the 13th. Night (around midnight is perfect for this exercise)
You dim out the lights – the moonlight, streaming in through the open windows, should be just enough to throw eerie shadows. Place the candle on a solitary stool, away from other furniture. (This point is life-saving when you knock the candle out and run screaming) Leave the windows slightly open, so there is a mild breeze. Nobody talks, nobody smirks. The quietness in the room is constricting to the point that the cool air from the open windows brings in not shivers, but profuse sweating. Then, one of you drapes the white sheet over yourself and the chanting begins.
Slowly, everybody enters a sort of trance. Sit facing the candle and concentrate with all your might on the tip of your nose thinking about the name of the person whose ghost you are summoning. All is quiet for a few minutes.
Suddenly, there is a distinct flicker of white – the candlelight almost dies out with that speck of white. A loud gasp from all assembled. The concentration on the tip of the nose breaks, and the white disappears only to have the piano start playing by itself.
After this, there is not much to record. The hearts raced and prodded the legs on to run as fast as possible. The corridor was filled with shrieking violets, who put a rampaging herd of bisons to shame. Nobody knew whether they were holding their own hands, or the ghosts hand, or their hearts in their hands. JUST RUN!
PS: It turns out that one person got bored with staring at her nose and sneaked off to play the piano.
PPS: Part Fiction