5 Superstitious Stories for Friday the 13th


This Friday the 13th, watch out for deep sea serpents and deathwatch beetles, and even something as innocent as a rainbow. The origins of Friday the 13th are murky, with possible connections to Judas being the 13th guest at the Last Supper, or the Knights Templar being condemned on a Friday the 13th. Just like the holiday, many superstitions have mysterious origins. We often hang on to old ideas without knowing how they came about. Explore these five stories of superstition, from human sacrifice to the rise of sleep paralysis demons.

by Kensy Cooperrider

You should never, ever point at a rainbow—at least that’s what people used to say. In Indonesia, it was once widely believed that pointing at one of these colorful arches could bend your finger into the same shape. Across the world, many cultures have held their own superstitions around pointing at rainbows, causing ones finger to become mangled, rot, or fall off altogether. In some parts of Australia, communities believed the act would bring harm to one’s mother. But don’t worry, there are a slew of remedies as well, including sticking the affected finger in all sorts of unsavory places—from a pile of buffalo dung to one’s own anus.

by Roxanne Hoorn

The long, spiny fish have a reputation just as freaky as their appearance. Reaching over 30 feet in length, it’s quite a site when one of these deep sea dwellers washes ashore on a beach, but their size isn’t the most concerning part. According to Japanese legend, the sight of one is an omen of earthquakes. In 2011, the legend was reignited when 20 oarfish washed ashore in the months leading up to Japan’s most powerful recorded earthquake, which caused a devastating tsunami. While lots of animals are known to act up before earthquakes, scientists don’t see any real connection between these deep sea serpents and cataclysmic events.

Oarfish sport red spine-like fins on their head and a long dorsal fin running the length of their body, as well as two oar-like pelvic fins, giving them their name.
Oarfish sport red spine-like fins on their head and a long dorsal fin running the length of their body, as well as two oar-like pelvic fins, giving them their name. Rvalette, CC BY-SA 3.0/Wikimedia

by Sam O’Brien

Just one of several mock sacrifices associated with the ancient Celtic festival of Beltane, the 18th-century ritual of the burnt Beltane bannock and the cailleach Beal-tine was meant to appease the gods for the farming season ahead. Standing around a massive fire, people pass a hat with slices of bannock, or griddled oatcake, around. Everyone gets a slice, until one lucky person plucks out a charcoal-daubed morsel, deeming them the human sacrifice. Just as they are about to be thrown in the fire, they’re rescued. While records of the tradition aren’t totally clear, it’s possible these sacrifices were once very real.

by Alice Vernon

A frozen, weighted (and often terrifying) feeling when waking from slumber is known as sleep paralysis. Science has long described this as a natural part of the sleep cycle that some of us are unlucky enough to wake up for. It’s a comforting thing to be able to explain, but when this scary feeling actually comes over you, it’s easy to imagine a more supernatural explanation. In recent years, the rise of sleep paralysis demons in horror movies are reigniting old superstitions about the least-welcome sleep state.

Henry Fuseli's <em>The Nightmare</em> (1781) taps into superstitions about sleep paralysis, a kind of parasomnia, or sleep disorder.
Henry Fuseli’s The Nightmare (1781) taps into superstitions about sleep paralysis, a kind of parasomnia, or sleep disorder. Tulip Hysteria, CC BY-SA 3.0/Wikimedia

by Roxanne Hoorn

In 17th-century England, a tapping noise emanating from the walls was a sign of death approaching. The rhythmic patter was attributed to the Grim Reaper’s clock. The faster the ticking, the closer death was. The real culprit is often a wood boring beetle, aptly named the deathwatch beetle. “In the days before electricity, rural people would get up with the dawn and go to bed with dusk,” says entomologist Maxwell Barclay, collections manager of coleoptera (beetles) at the Natural History Museum in London. “There’d be no good reason to be awake at that time of night, so the only time they heard them was when somebody was sick.”





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