Friday the 13th has a peculiar talent. It can turn otherwise sensible, spreadsheet-loving adults into cautious tiptoers, moving through the day as if the universe were auditioning for a low-budget horror film. We scoff at superstition, of course—until a black cat crosses our path, a ladder looms overhead, or the saltshaker betrays us at precisely the wrong moment.
You may laugh. I do too. And yet… somewhere deep down, a tiny voice whispers: what if?
Today is Friday, the 13th. There’s something undeniably atmospheric about Friday the 13th. It feels like a day that arrives with its own background score—low, suspenseful, with the occasional shriek of a violin when you misplace your keys or spill exactly thirteen grains of salt. Coincidence? Entirely possible. Suspicious? Also, possible. Today, the line between the two feels delightfully blurred.
For the uninitiated, allow me to introduce a word that sounds less like a fear and more like an overambitious pasta dish: paraskevidekatriaphobia. It is, quite officially, the fear of Friday the 13th. The term draws from Greek—paraskevi (Friday), dekatreis (thirteen), and phobia (fear). Pronounce it correctly—para-skev-EE-dek-a-tri-a-pho-bia—and, according to Dr Donald E. Dossey, who coined the term, you may well cure yourself. Rather like garlic and vampires, or optimism and Mondays.
The roots of this unease are often traced to religious and mythological narratives. Thirteen guests at the Last Supper, followed swiftly by the Crucifixion—hardly a glowing endorsement for the number. Norse mythology offers its own cautionary tale: Loki arrives uninvited as the thirteenth guest at a banquet, and things unravel spectacularly. Long before WhatsApp invites and RSVP reminders, humanity was already wary of that one guest who shows up unannounced.
Yet superstition, like cuisine, is deeply regional. Italians reserve their apprehension for Friday the 17th. Greeks and much of the Spanish-speaking world eye Tuesday the 13th with suspicion. To them, our anxiety today must seem faintly theatrical. Friday the 13th? Just another perfectly good day for coffee.
An interesting calendar quirk: whenever a month begins on a Sunday, a Friday the 13th is guaranteed to follow. Some years offer as many as three such occasions. Thankfully, 2016 is merciful—we get only one. No need to panic excessively. Moderation, even in superstition, is advisable.
Ultimately, belief or disbelief aside, Friday the 13th does gift us something universally comforting: the promise that the weekend is near. And for those in the Middle East, where the weekend begins today—well, envy is a perfectly rational response.
So go gently. Avoid cracked mirrors if you must. Walk around ladders instead of under them. And above all, resist the most dangerous temptation of the day—the urge to say, “Nothing can possibly go wrong.”
Some things, after all, are better left unsaid.
So much of information about 13th…you seem to have researched about it a lot 🙂
Thank you…I didn’t know about the word, and the history behind 13th being ominous!
Thanks Alok. 🙂
I think we are just tracing some bad luck to a cause and Friday the 13 happens to be a deeply rooted culture fear stemming from the last supper. We humans become paranoid over calendar numbers due to traditions, beliefs and happenings in history which instills fear for the unknown…great post that set my thought process active on a superstitious day 🙂
Thank you! Yes Sunita, we get superstitious from myths, traditions or past events. Some accidental coincidence embolden the belief.
Thanks for throwing at us a new word (at least for me). I am still trying to figure out how to pronounce it. 🙂
The movies and stories have highlighted the myths and superstitions regarding Friday the 13th.
Was not aware of the term paraskevidekatriaphobia! উচ্চারণ করতে দাঁত ভেঙ্গে গেল… 😀
Friday the 13th… nice I hope I don’t caught paraskevidekatriaphobia phobia… thanks for teaching us to pronounce it… we now know how to cure ourselves from this phobia!!
Paraskevidekatriaphobia – That’s quite a mouthful word. I read at the breakup twice to understand how to pronounce it. Wasn’t aware that the reason for 13th being ominous in many cultures goes back to the last supper. Thanks for sharing.
Thankfully, when I am reading this post, on Wednesday the 27th in May 2020, Friday the 13th of 2016 is history 🙂
Hahaha! Thanks for like.
I’ve been reflecting on the section of your blog where you deconstruct paraskevidekatriaphobia. There’s something wonderfully ironic about a word that sounds like an overambitious pasta dish being the very thing that—according to Dr. Dossey—might cure the fear itself. It’s as if by giving the shadows such a complex, rhythmic name, we strip them of their power to haunt us Your dive into the ‘RSVPs of antiquity’ was particularly striking. Drawing that line from the Last Supper to the uninvited chaos of Loki at the Norse banquet reminds us that our modern anxieties aren’t just quirks—they are echoes of stories we’ve been telling ourselves for millennia. You captured the idea so well: that before we had digital calendars to manage our social lives, we were already counting the chairs at the table with a sense of impending doom. I also loved the linguistic pivot to the Mediterranean. It’s a brilliant ‘reality check’ to realize that while we’re dodging ladders on a Friday, the Greeks and Spaniards are saving their caution for a Tuesday, and the Italians for the 17th. It highlights how much of our ‘fate’ is really just a cultural dialect. Your writing doesn’t just explain the history; it invites us to see the humor in our collective human baggage. It’s a beautiful reminder that whether it’s a Greek root or a Norse myth, we’re all just trying to find a narrative for the days when the salt spills and the keys vanish.
Thank you—this is one of those comments that feels less like feedback and more like a conversation continued. I love how you caught the irony of naming fear into submission; there’s something deeply human about believing that a sufficiently elaborate word can tame the unknown.
Your reading of the “RSVPs of antiquity” made me smile—counting chairs really might be one of humanity’s oldest coping mechanisms. And yes, that Mediterranean detour is always my favorite reminder that fate, like language, changes accent as it crosses borders.
I’m grateful you found both humor and resonance in the piece. If nothing else, it reassures me that when our keys vanish and salt spills, at least we’re carrying our shared myths with a lighter step.