Friggatriskaidekaphobia

Friggatriskaidekaphobia: fear of Friday the Thirteenth. We’ve all heard of it. But why?

There are multiple theories on the origins of Friday the 13^th as a day of bad luck. A common Christian belief is that it originates from the painting of the last supper, with Jesus and his 12 disciples. The day after the meal, a Friday, he was crucified. But fear of the number 13 may go back far earlier. Just as many hotels skip a floor 13, the ancient Code of Hammurabi skipped the number 13 when setting out its list of laws. In Western culture, 12 is often a number of completion: 12 apostles, 12 days of Christmas, 12 to a dozen, 12 dozen to a gross, 12 tribes of Israel, 12 labors of Hercules, 12 shillings to a pound, and so on. So maybe the number after “completion” just meant messing things up. Odds are, we’ll never know for sure. (Pun intended)

As for adding Friday into the mix, the Bible is often pointed to again with the crucifixion and other bad stuff occurring or speculated to be occurring on Friday. Freya or Frigga, the goddesses referenced in the word Friday neither have any association with bad luck, so it wouldn’t come from there. If we had a Lokiday in the week, then we might have cause to believe the stories. Or, if the association came about later, the Knights Templar were disbanded (and generally sentenced to death) on Friday, 13 October, 1307, which was a pretty big deal at the time.

Superstition doesn’t need a reason, of course. It’s self-propagating. Over time, anything bad on a Friday the 13^th was used to shore up the belief.  Sept. 13, 1940, Buckingham Palace was bombed, Nov. 13, 1970, a cyclone killed over 300,000 people in Bangladesh, a Chilean Air Force plane disappeared somewhere in the Andes mountains on Oct. 13, 1972, Tupac Shakur was shot on Dec. 13, 1996 and a cruise ship, the Costa Concordia crashed of Italy, killing 30 on Jan. 13, 2012. All of those were Fridays. Add in the fictional horrors, and you’ve got a pretty well-entrenched superstition.

While I’ve never written a book set around a Friday the 13^th, (although now I may have to—it’s a great idea!) I have used a holiday that's also rife with superstition: Halloween, coming up later this month. My very first erotic romance story, formerly titled Between a Rock and a Hard-On, was set at Halloween 2007. In the spirit of the holiday, I’ve re-released it this month as an Amazon exclusive. I had so much fun writing this—I did it in one weekend, giggling maniacally the whole time. I hope you enjoy it too—it was also my first shifter dragon story. And you know I loves my dragons!

Best of luck on this Friday the 13^th, and Blessed Samhain or Happy Halloween as you prefer!

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Between a Rock and a Hard Dragon

By Cindy Spencer Pape

Story #1 in the Love Me Like a Rock collection.

On Amazon

What happens when you mix a half-dragon, a pixie and a little sex magic in a wooded park on Halloween? Neither Bram nor Twyla have any idea but when it all comes together the magic explodes in a frenzy of hot sex and sizzling romance.

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Major sources used above:

History.Com

New York Historical Society

What are your Superstitions

My Grandmother and her Superstitions

I’m starting a new book where one of the heroines is charming, but ruled by her superstitions. There are two heroines since the two heroes are twins. This one is going to be fun. And it set to my to thinking a lot about my grandmother.

My grandmother insisted her grandchildren call her Kate. It was surely the only modern thing about her. She so strict I hardly dared call her anything at all. Once I came home from the corner store with a carton of root beer. I had to take it back because it had ‘beer’ in the title. I hope she’s in heaven but hasn’t bothered to check my current life style! Oh, and if one gave you a purse you better find some money in it, although even a penny would do. If we went out the door, forget something and turned back, we had to circle a chair three times and then sit in it for a moment for being allowed back out. Oh yes, and you didn’t give anybody a knife because that would cut your friendship in two.

The one thing I remember with pleasure is that she had beautiful white hair which fell to her waist when she set it free from its tight bun. She occasionally let me brush it, and as a child I dearly loved doing that. She seemed a little fey at times. Once when we were on a visit she took my mother aside and told her to get me to a doctor, something was wrong with Jean. We laughed about it on the way home but a few days later I suffered an acute appendicitis attack which necessitated an emergency operation.

Mostly she was such an aloof figure I had little interaction with her. But I certainly remember that austere woman who somehow had my best interests at heart.

I’d love to know your superstitions. We all have some, even if we try to dismiss them as nonsense. Come on, tell me yours. Please?