Journal #7 Superstitions

I do not particularly believe in superstitions. There are many different superstitions that other people believe in though. There is, of course, Friday the 13th. There are black cats, walking under a ladder, opening an umbrella indoors, braking glass, throwing salt over your shoulder, stepping on cracks, and a lot of other things. There is also the number 666 that people believe has to do with the devil. I guess you could also say that believing that the world will end in 2012 is a superstition.

So pretty much I think all superstitions are dumb. I do not think any of them are true. I will admit though that I do not walk under ladders. I step on cracks all the time though. Also, all that stuff about ghosts and goblins and witches and stuff are superstitions too.

I remember a story thing my friends and I used to tell when we were younger at sleepovers. We thought it was fun to tell ghost stories and do all that stuff like Bloody Mary, the thing where spirits are supposed to come and levitate you in the air, and this one story that I will tell.

I was at a friend's sleepover birthday party, and we were in her basement having fun, playing truth or dare, and telling ghost stories. My friend told us a story about a cat. To tell the story she needed a volunteer. The volunteer had to lay down with her head on the storytellers lap. The storyteller would then tell the story to everyone while massaging the volunteers temples. The volunteer also had to close her eyes. This is how the story went:

There once was a family that just moved into a new house. Every day the father would go out and get the paper, and he would see a black cat roaming around the outside of his house. He told his wife about the cat, and they soon decided to adopt the cat.

During the day the cat was good, but at night he did weird things. They cat started to really hate the father of the family, but he loved the mother. One night, the dad woke up and say the cat staring at him in his bed. All of a sudden the cat jumped on the dad and started clawing away at his face and body. He left three big slash marks on the father's back then ran away.

Once the story was finished being told, the storyteller made the volunteer sit up and lift up the back of her shirt. If the story was told correctly, there would be three huge red marks on the volunteers back.