Every girl who's ever attended a slumber party knows her by name, and knows that she was once beautiful and young, that she was horribly disfigured by a jealous friend who wanted Mary's boyfriend for herself (or that her face was cut to ribbons when her drunken boyfriend rant them off the road and Mary flew through the windshield, or that her boyfriend went crazy and slashed her face to pieces, or that she bled to death where the same boyfriend slammed her face through a mirror.) They also know how to call her forth from the other side. The need for a darkened room, the mirror and the single red candle placed before it is all they need. And the chant, "Bloody Mary, come to us!" repeated thirteen times, gradually drowns out the whispers of those about the mirror peer into it for the first sign of her hideous face. It's a love hate relationship though. Not a single girl around the mirror really wants to be the first to discern her misty shape will be her first victim, the one to have her own face slashed to bloody strips! Why would anyone hazard such a fate? To belong, in addition to providing the scare factor necessary for the success of any good slumber party, it's been the initiation rite imposed on younger sisters and friends for at least half a dozen generations!