Folklore is the skeleton of culture, the stories and superstitions passed through generations like inherited scars. It is not history, but it shapes how we remember. It is not religion, but people have built shrines to it. It exists in the space between belief and invention, a communal hallucination we all agree to see or not see.

It is the tale of the woman in the woods, the spirit in the water, the trickster who steals names. It is why certain doors must never be opened, why some songs must always be sung. Folklore carries warnings disguised as wonders, truths hidden in riddles. It is both memory and myth, a living thing that outlives its storytellers.

Folklore is what remains when everything else is forgotten. Tell us of the folklore stitched into the bones of your country, your place, your home. Or, invent a new kind of folklore, one that might haunt us forever.