Friday 13th November 2071
Friday the 13th, the holy day of good luck, was here. It was a holiday, and unless you were in the religious, entertainment or food industry, it was a day off. But, no matter what, everyone attended the sunrise service at their local temple to give thanks to the 13. Then after, the carnival.
People queued to walk under ladders. Children jumped on cracks on the pavement. Mirrors were broken and chain letters burnt. Black cats were everywhere: on t-shirts and bags, toys were prizes in raffles, and guardians of pet cats were given gifts by their neighbours…
Sammi Cox is from the UK and spends her time writing and making things. Her poetry and short fiction have been published in various places online and in print. Her first collection of tiny tales, One Turn of The Wheel was published by Three Drops Press in 2017. Find her at: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/
Felix waved to the painter as he ducked beneath the ladder that stood over his front door. The broken lace of his shoe swung as he stepped on the crack in the sidewalk. In the entryway, Felix opened his umbrella and hung it on the coatrack.
Making his way to the kitchen, he scooped up his black cat, Lucky, who came to greet him.
On the wall, sandwiched between two cracked mirrors, a calendar hung with red x’s checking off the days. Felix added a mark over Thursday, November 12th.
“Ah, tomorrow’s my birthday,” he said with a contented smile.
McKenzie Richardson lives in Milwaukee, WI. Recently, her work has been featuring in various anthologies through Black Hare Press, Iron Faerie Publishing, Dragon Soul Press, and Eerie River Publishing. She has also published a middle-grade novel, Heartstrings, as well as a poetry collaboration with Casey Renee Kiser, 433 Lighted Way.
Selected by the editor as a featured submission, March 2021.
As a new convert to rationalism Bill proudly announced to Martha that he didn’t even realize that yesterday was Friday the 13th until he got up this morning. “And nothing went wrong yesterday!”
Martha wrapped her arms around him. “You’re cured! You finally realize that the only days worse than Friday the 13th are all the other days in the month.”
“You mean today could be worse than Friday the 13th?”
Martha rapidly nodded her head, “Yes! Yes! Statistically today could be awful.”
“I wonder what could go wrong?”
“Well, for one, today’s Friday, not Saturday.”
Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois. He has appeared in The Lyric, Snakeskin and Ancient Paths Literary Magazine. He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.