We're creeping up on Friday the 13th, a day filled with horror, misfortune, and dread.

Be sure to stay inside, unless, of course, you want the thrill of a lifetime.

I'm Blair Bathory, and welcome to the Something Scary podcast.

Thank you for joining us as we descend into the shadows.

So, want to hear something scary?

Friday the 13th, dead by midnight.

Not every monster hides under the bed,

some wait where you least expect them,

like in this cautionary encounter recalled by Sam.

Have fun, but be in before dark, or else tall Betsy'll get you.

That was the warning Clay's father Charles Logan had always given him,

in a whiskey-laden voice that once made even the bravest men in Cleveland flinch.

It was Friday the 13th, a date that even locals spoke of in hushed tones.

Clay didn't care.

He had no use for old wives' tales.

Earlier that evening, Clay had been at the Nelson's backyard playing a late pickup game

of baseball.

He had a reputation as the best hitter in his class, and that night he proved it.

Each swing of the bat seemed effortless, each ball sailing higher than the last.

Don't you think it's time to wrap it up, Clay?

Terry Nelson called from the mound, squinting as the orange twilight bled away.

"'You've already hit five homers.'

...