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Folklore: Stories by writers from the Comma Short Story Course, Manchester, 2024
This collection of short stories was submitted by participants who undertook the Comma Press Folklore Course in Manchester.
THERE’S A MISCONCEPTION THAT ‘folklore’ means old or ancient; that it’s preoccupied with the occult, the supernatural or the weird (or wyrd, if you prefer); that its truths are in fact superstition, supposition, or old wives’ tales.
But folklore is broader, much bigger, than that. We all have folklore, and we’re using, transmitting and participating in folklore in our daily lives, today, right now, often without realising it. When you pass on a story you heard at the school gates, when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake, when you cook the dishes your parents did. Folklore enables us to express ourselves, and it makes links with others as we do it. It encompasses our beliefs, our values, and our knowledge and skills.
It is no surprise, then, that folklore is of huge interest to the writer of fiction. Folklore allows the fiction writer to shed a character’s outer skins and shoot right to the soul, without the laboriousness of exposition – especially vital when up against the word limit of a short story. We’re always told to ‘show, not tell’, and folklore makes this possible, by enriching our fictional worlds with a sense of longevity and legacy, of connectivity, ambience and atmosphere. In short, folklore gives us the tools to draw a picture that is complex, layered, and, therefore, we hope, tantalising to our readers.
The course tutor would like to thank this wonderful group of students for their dedication and enthusiasm, and to Comma Press for making this such a fulfilling appointment.
THERE’S A MISCONCEPTION THAT ‘folklore’ means old or ancient; that it’s preoccupied with the occult, the supernatural or the weird (or wyrd, if you prefer); that its truths are in fact superstition, supposition, or old wives’ tales.
But folklore is broader, much bigger, than that. We all have folklore, and we’re using, transmitting and participating in folklore in our daily lives, today, right now, often without realising it. When you pass on a story you heard at the school gates, when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake, when you cook the dishes your parents did. Folklore enables us to express ourselves, and it makes links with others as we do it. It encompasses our beliefs, our values, and our knowledge and skills.
It is no surprise, then, that folklore is of huge interest to the writer of fiction. Folklore allows the fiction writer to shed a character’s outer skins and shoot right to the soul, without the laboriousness of exposition – especially vital when up against the word limit of a short story. We’re always told to ‘show, not tell’, and folklore makes this possible, by enriching our fictional worlds with a sense of longevity and legacy, of connectivity, ambience and atmosphere. In short, folklore gives us the tools to draw a picture that is complex, layered, and, therefore, we hope, tantalising to our readers.
The course tutor would like to thank this wonderful group of students for their dedication and enthusiasm, and to Comma Press for making this such a fulfilling appointment.
80 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 25, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
May 24, 2026
This collection doesn’t stroll in politely; it slips through the cracks in your everyday life like a whisper you’re not supposed to hear, and suddenly you’re looking at your own routines like they’re ancient rituals you accidentally inherited. One moment you’re reading about a writing course in Manchester, the next you’re knee‑deep in stories that feel like they’ve been living under your floorboards, waiting for someone to finally open the door.
The whole premise is delicious:
folklore not as dusty relics or spooky campfire tales, but as the living pulse of how we move through the world. These writers — fresh, sharp, hungry — take that idea and run with it like they’ve been handed a lantern and told, “Go find the truth hiding behind the wallpaper.”
And they do.
Oh, they do.
Every story feels like a tiny excavation site.
A memory.
A superstition.
A habit you never questioned.
A whisper passed between generations.
A recipe.
A warning.
A joke that’s older than you think.
What I love is how the collection leans into the idea that folklore isn’t some ancient, moss‑covered thing — it’s alive, it’s modern, it’s in the school‑gate gossip, the birthday candles, the way your grandmother cuts vegetables, the way you tell a story even when you swear you’re not a storyteller.
These writers use folklore the way surgeons use scalpels:
to peel back the surface and show you the beating heart underneath.
Short stories don’t have time for fluff, and folklore becomes the shortcut — the emotional shorthand — that lets them dive straight into soul‑level territory without wasting a single word.
There’s atmosphere for days.
Legacy.
Ambience.
Connectivity.
That sense of “something older than me is standing just behind my shoulder, and honestly I’m fine with that.”
It’s warm and eerie at the same time — like being wrapped in a blanket knitted by ghosts who love you.
And the tutor’s note?
Adorable.
Wholesome.
The literary equivalent of a proud parent at graduation, except the kids have written stories that could probably summon something if read aloud at midnight.
At only 80 pages, it’s a quick read, but it lingers.
Like folklore does.
Like stories do.
Like the things we pass on without realising we’re keeping history alive.
A tiny, potent anthology that feels like opening a door you didn’t know was there — and finding out it leads somewhere familiar, uncanny, and beautifully human.
The whole premise is delicious:
folklore not as dusty relics or spooky campfire tales, but as the living pulse of how we move through the world. These writers — fresh, sharp, hungry — take that idea and run with it like they’ve been handed a lantern and told, “Go find the truth hiding behind the wallpaper.”
And they do.
Oh, they do.
Every story feels like a tiny excavation site.
A memory.
A superstition.
A habit you never questioned.
A whisper passed between generations.
A recipe.
A warning.
A joke that’s older than you think.
What I love is how the collection leans into the idea that folklore isn’t some ancient, moss‑covered thing — it’s alive, it’s modern, it’s in the school‑gate gossip, the birthday candles, the way your grandmother cuts vegetables, the way you tell a story even when you swear you’re not a storyteller.
These writers use folklore the way surgeons use scalpels:
to peel back the surface and show you the beating heart underneath.
Short stories don’t have time for fluff, and folklore becomes the shortcut — the emotional shorthand — that lets them dive straight into soul‑level territory without wasting a single word.
There’s atmosphere for days.
Legacy.
Ambience.
Connectivity.
That sense of “something older than me is standing just behind my shoulder, and honestly I’m fine with that.”
It’s warm and eerie at the same time — like being wrapped in a blanket knitted by ghosts who love you.
And the tutor’s note?
Adorable.
Wholesome.
The literary equivalent of a proud parent at graduation, except the kids have written stories that could probably summon something if read aloud at midnight.
At only 80 pages, it’s a quick read, but it lingers.
Like folklore does.
Like stories do.
Like the things we pass on without realising we’re keeping history alive.
A tiny, potent anthology that feels like opening a door you didn’t know was there — and finding out it leads somewhere familiar, uncanny, and beautifully human.
March 11, 2025
Loved being involved in the project and discovering so many talented writers. It’s a joy to read the final version of their chapters.
March 6, 2025
Wonderful stories inspired by folklore. Promising writers!
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews