13 November 2026
Friday, 6.30 pm. Friday the thirteenth. The meter has been beeping since breakfast. Noreen says it beeps at the toaster. The toaster, I told her, is not under suspicion today.
8.15 pm. Lake Street unusually lively. According to the queue, things are falling over in the old room, and from the new room comes a run of screams in waltz time. I timed them.
9.10 pm. A young man came out of The Possession partway through, walked out by a member of staff, perfectly calm, with a cup of water. He had pressed what he called the button. Every room has one, he said: press it, someone fetches you, and the rest carry on. His team finished without him. He was relieved, and also furious.
I asked about the dark. He said there were moments of total black, then flashes, and that he will never again complain about the lighting in his flat. Recorded verbatim.
Across the road, the small figure waved from the upstairs window. On a Friday the thirteenth. I waved back. I do not know why. Noreen says that is how it starts.
— D. Crouch, Northbridge Paranormal Society (President, Treasurer and Members)
