Friday the 13th.

For you, it’s a day on the calendar. It happens when the month starts on a Sunday. In this year, 2017, it will happen twice. But that is what Friday the 13th means for you. And I am not you.

I am the last living descendant of a long line of noble leaders in a small country island in the Atlantic. I am Friday, the 13th.

I live a life of obscurity. The island that this family has ruled for millennia is largely unnoticed by the world. A few small fishing operations know we are here, but even that knowledge was gained by happenstance.

The townsfolk know that there is a leader of their country, moving the chess pieces of industry, keeping everything running smoothly so that their happy lives go undisturbed. But they do not know my face. They do not know what evil lies behind my mask, more should they ever be exposed to its horror. So I hide it from them.

Such deception and isolation makes any relationships difficult, to say the least. No romance. No brotherhood. Only hours by myself, until my elderly butler waits on me.
The obscurity of it all drives me mad. The loneliness births a hunger for human interaction. The mundane days and weeks makes my soul ache for the strange and bizarre.

I am Friday, the 13th, and on this day I will go out into the world and cause chaos.

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