Lucky Number Thirteen
Once upon a time, dear reader, there was a little town nestled deep into the mountains. In that town, there were many quaint traditions and beliefs, one of which was that the number thirteen was considered lucky. On special occasions, the church bells would toll thirteen times, and the townspeople would ask for good luck and blessings.
In that town, there was a boy, and there was a girl. They were childhood friends, and had spent many a summer afternoon staging mock sword-fights, as well as many autumn days when they went hunting for chestnuts. The boy did not know it, but the girl was very much in love with him, although she was much too shy to reveal her feelings to him. So, the boy remained unknowing and the girl continued to keep her secret.
Many years went by; the girl had grown into a young lady who was expected to learn to cook and sew and conduct herself like a proper young lady should, and the boy had forgotten all about his friend, the one person he had once promised was dearer to him than life itself. He found another girl, and how he loved her so! Still, his childhood friend continued to love him, even though her poor heart cried, heavy with grief.
Until the boy, now a man, announced that he would marry his lady love and move away, far away. How the poor girl, who was now a proper young lady, cried! Her tears flowed fresh and fast; she wept till she could weep no more. Yet still the wretched lass loved the boy who was now a man, and still she counted the days down to his wedding, and still she wept fresh tears, everyday. On the day of his wedding, the young lady would talk to no one, and not one of the townspeople could understand her reason for her silence, for not one of them knew that the reason for her mute suffering was the man who was fated to walk down the aisle that very day.
After the wedding ceremony, the church bells tolled thirteen times, as was the custom for good luck. The lady was nowhere to be found. And after the thirteenth peal of the bell had faded away, the townspeople finally found the lady - floating in the lake, facedown.
The mourning wails of her mother echoed throughout the town for days, and it was from then on, dear reader, that the number thirteen was considered an ill omen.
In that town, there was a boy, and there was a girl. They were childhood friends, and had spent many a summer afternoon staging mock sword-fights, as well as many autumn days when they went hunting for chestnuts. The boy did not know it, but the girl was very much in love with him, although she was much too shy to reveal her feelings to him. So, the boy remained unknowing and the girl continued to keep her secret.
Many years went by; the girl had grown into a young lady who was expected to learn to cook and sew and conduct herself like a proper young lady should, and the boy had forgotten all about his friend, the one person he had once promised was dearer to him than life itself. He found another girl, and how he loved her so! Still, his childhood friend continued to love him, even though her poor heart cried, heavy with grief.
Until the boy, now a man, announced that he would marry his lady love and move away, far away. How the poor girl, who was now a proper young lady, cried! Her tears flowed fresh and fast; she wept till she could weep no more. Yet still the wretched lass loved the boy who was now a man, and still she counted the days down to his wedding, and still she wept fresh tears, everyday. On the day of his wedding, the young lady would talk to no one, and not one of the townspeople could understand her reason for her silence, for not one of them knew that the reason for her mute suffering was the man who was fated to walk down the aisle that very day.
After the wedding ceremony, the church bells tolled thirteen times, as was the custom for good luck. The lady was nowhere to be found. And after the thirteenth peal of the bell had faded away, the townspeople finally found the lady - floating in the lake, facedown.
The mourning wails of her mother echoed throughout the town for days, and it was from then on, dear reader, that the number thirteen was considered an ill omen.
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