It’s Friday the 13th. Time for a visit.
It’s not widely discussed. Those who have witnessed it firsthand are, for obvious reasons, reluctant to talk about it. These aren’t stories they are eager to tell.
But one hears whispers, rumors, stories told by the friends of friends. And those whispers, rumors and stories are too numerous and too eerily similar to be dismissed.
Something is happening. Something, it seems, happens every Friday the 13th, just before midnight.
The stories begin right around the turn of the 20th century, with the earliest reference I can find coming from August of 1897.
Capt. B.F. Auld of the Baltimore Police Department received a strange and surprising invitation to dinner at the home of Supreme Court Justice Henry Billings Brown. …
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