The Red Herring & Other Tall Tales was created with young people from across Inverclyde in community workshops delivered in The Beacon Arts Centre and Inverclyde Libraries.
There are lots of well known Inverclyde folk tales and Magic Torch Comics have been sharing those for years – the idea for this collection was to use some of the everyday things young people see regularly in Inverclyde today, and make them a little more magical, a little sillier or even a little spookier. From our sunken sugar ship and town centre car parks to the Kempock Stone and the regular sailings of The Waverley, we used some of the forms of folk and fairy tales to mash up new stories. And just like traditional folk tales, they are absolutely made up and not at all true. Probably.
Special thanks to storytellers Rory, Penny, Sam, Abby and Matt
The artwork for the book was created by Inverclyde artist Louise Carr, in collaboration with the young people in our workshops.
The project was part of Magic Torch Comics Storyworks project, supported by National Lottery Community Fund Young Start Programme.
First printed October 2025
All fishermen tell stories.
There’s the one about the sea monster who fell from the moon. Or the clockwork pirate ship, whose mechanical crew only steal time. Or the island full of singing statues all chanting out of tune…
Jack had heard lots of stories. He’d told some too. But the one that interested him most, was a story about buried treasure, hidden somewhere along the River Clyde.
Jack was tired of fishing and he’d decided the best thing to do about it, was to get rich quick instead. He’d been told there was a wise old fish, bright red, who had watched a pirate hide her treasure. There was no map for this treasure, but the herring surely had some clues.
You don’t get to be a wise old fish without spotting a fisherman a mile off, so Jack had spent all of his money on some magical bait he’d bought from an old wizard on the dockside. That way, he’d be sure to catch the fish.
That night, Jack sailed out with his rods and bait, ready to catch the fish and ask it a question.
Down beneath the waves, the Red Herring saw Jack’s hook, and the bait, and while it knew better than to be caught, it couldn’t resist the powerful magic of the wizards’ worms. So up it went.
“I’ve caught the Red Herring!” said Jack. “Now help me find the Pirate’s Treasure and I’ll throw you back in.”
“Of course,” said the Red Herring, “I’m here to help. There’s a cavern, hidden away in the hills. In that cavern, there’s a mouse with the key to the treasure chest. No point in you finding the treasure if it’s all locked away. Find the mouse, get the key, then you can steal the treasure.”
Jack threw the fish back into the river, rowed home and set off into the hills in search of the Mouse.
“I don’t know anything about a key,” said the Mouse. “I do have some nice cheese though if you’d like some.”
Jack was upset that there was no key. But he did like cheese, so he had some of that, and decided to sail out again the next night to catch the fish once more.
Once again, The Red Herring saw Jack’s hook, and the bait, and could not stop itself from being caught. So up it went.
“Back again?” said the Red Herring.
“Yes,” said Jack. “And that mouse you sent me to didn’t know anything about a key.”
“That must have been the wrong mouse,” said the fish.
Jack scowled, “Well I hope you can do better than that tonight.”
“Of course!” said the Red Herring. “I’m here to help. Maybe I was wrong about the key, but I do know, that the treasure is protected by many traps and puzzles.”
“I’m not great at puzzles,” said Jack.
“Well fear not,” said the Red Herring, “There’s a hat shop in town, which sells and repairs the finest hats in the land. Right now, I happen to know that there’s a magician’s hat in there, waiting to be collected. Under the hat is a secret, which will help you solve the fiendish pirate puzzles. Find the hat, get the secret, then you can steal the treasure.”
Jack threw the fish back into the river, rowed back to town and went straight to the hat shop to look underneath the Magicians Hat.
The Hatter who ran the Hat Shop, tried his best to be helpful.
“There’s no clues here,” said the Hatter, “but maybe some tricks?”
The Hatter pulled an angry seagull out of the Magicians Hat and it shrieked at him, bit him on the nose and flew away.
Jack was upset there was no clue, but he did laugh and clap at the trick because everyone likes it when animals do funny things. The Red Herring wasn’t funny though. Jack didn’t think the fish was funny at all, and he rowed out the next night to catch it again.
The Red Herring knew, that Jack would just keep coming until he ran out of bait, and the old fish could only survive being taken out of the water so many times. It was time to stop this nonsense, once and for all.
So up it went.
“There were no clues under that hat,” said Jack.
“That must have been the wrong hat,” said the Fish.
“I think you are just sending me to all the wrong places to do all the wrong things!”
The Red Herring shook its head. “Of course not! I’m here to help! I might have been wrong about the key. And the secret. But tonight, a shooting star will light up the river, and wherever that star falls, you will find treasure.”
“We’ll see,” said Jack. “But this time, I’m not letting you out of my sight”
Jack held the fish tight, and they waited and watched the skies.
To Jack’s surprise, a star did appear. Far away at first, then closer, closer, as it sped across the sky towards the river. Towards Jack and his boat.
“Hmm,” said the Red Herring, “that might be the wrong star. Sail closer so we can see.”
So Jack rowed closer. And the star flew closer and finally, when it seemed they could get no closer, the star crashed into the river with an enormous fizzing splash. Huge waves washed up on the fisherman’s little boat, knocking Jack, his rod and his bucket of bait into the freezing river. In the commotion, The Red Herring slipped from Jack’s fingers and dived back down into the depths.
A colder, wetter, wiser Jack made it to shore and learned maybe not to believe everything that he was told.
And The Red Herring? Well, the herring had many more stories to tell…
As everyone knows, the Catman lives halfway down Scott’s Lane, behind the rusty old fence.
Catman feeds all the stray cats in the town, and they help keep him warm on the cold nights.
The other thing which helps keep Catman warm, is his favourite top hat, which was given to him by a kind magician many years ago.
So you can imagine how upset Catman was, when he woke up one morning to find that his favourite hat…had been stolen!
Now, lots of cats stayed with the Catman down the old lane, but one of them, Misty, was a special cat. She had once been a witch’s cat, and she could see things that you and I cannot.
All the magical doors and secret side streets were open to Misty, and she knew, she would be able to get the Catman’s hat back. So she set off on her search.
Misty went to visit the Bin Wizard, who was hiding behind the supermarket.
“Do you have Catman’s hat?” she asked.
“No. I did see the hat,” said the Wizard, “I saw the Seagull Queen flying off with it early this morning.”
Misty went to visit the Seagull Queen in her messy nest, high on the roof of the town hall.
“Do you have Catman’s hat?” she asked.
“I did have the hat,” said the Seagull Queen, “but it was too awkward to carry and I dropped it over where the fairies are building a new playpark.”
Misty went to visit the fairy building site, and accidentally left some pawprints in the cement.
“I’ll need to fix that now,” said the Fairy Builder.
“Sorry,” said Misty. “Do you have Catman’s hat?”
“I did see a hat,” said the Fairy Builder, “but it blew away, up to Port Glasgow and down under the streets.”
Misty went to visit the King of Bones who lived hidden away beneath the streets in the old Bomb Shelter.
“Do you have Catman’s hat?” asked Misty.
“Why would I need a hat?” asked the King. “I already have a crown. But there was an actor here, ghostly fellow, who wanted to borrow my crown. He took the hat instead.”
Misty sailed down to the theatre, to speak to the Ghostly Actor.
“Do you have Catman’s hat?” she asked.
“I did have the hat,” said the Actor, “I thought it might help me look like a King. But it kept slipping off my head. One of my friends asked if he could have it instead, so I gave it to him.”
Misty climbed up the hills to visit the ghosts friend - a vampire and his family, in their shadowy house upon the hill.
“Do you have the Catman’s hat?” asked Misty.
“I do!” said the Vampire. “Why? Does he need it back? I just wanted to borrow it so I could go out in the sunshine for a picnic with my family.”
“Well,” said Misty, “I don’t think Catman would mind that, so long as you give it back afterwards.”
“Of course,” said the Vampire, “in fact, why don’t you and the Catman join us on our picnic?”
And that’s just what Misty did, and she asked everyone else too.
So the Catman, the Bin Wizard, the Seagull Queen, the fairy builders, the King of Bones, the Ghost Actor and the Vampires all sat together by the river enjoying the day.
And no one in the town even noticed.
Far beneath the waves of the Atlantic Ocean lived a kind and gentle kraken named Katie.
Katie wasn’t like the scary sea monsters in old sailor tales. She loved knitting seaweed scarves, playing hide-and-seek with dolphins, and sipping kelp tea by moonlight.
One blustery morning, Katie looked around her underwater cave and sighed. “I think I need a holiday,” she said, rubbing her tired tentacles. “Somewhere fun. Somewhere with chips. Somewhere like… Greenock!”
Katie had heard of Greenock from a travelling mermaid who swam by once. She told her about the big boats, green hills, friendly people, and most importantly, the chips!
So, Katie packed her snorkel, sunglasses, and her favourite jellyfish jewellery, and swam north. Later that night, Katie arrived at Greenock’s waterfront. She popped her giant head above the water, looked around, and whispered, “Ooooh, lovely!”
The town sparkled under the stars. The cranes at the dock stood like tall giraffes, and the River Clyde shimmered with lights.
Katie tried to be sneaky, but it’s hard to hide when you’re the size of a school bus. “Pssst!” someone whispered. “Are you a kraken?”
Katie turned and saw a small boy in his pyjamas sitting on the sea wall. His name was Jamie. “Shhh!” Katie said, putting a tentacle to her mouth. “I’m on holiday!”
Jamie grinned. “Cool! Want me to show you around tomorrow?”
Katie’s eyes lit up. “Yes please!”
The next morning, Jamie brought his gran’s biggest tartan scarf and wrapped it around Katie’s head like a hat. “Perfect disguise,” he said.
They visited the Esplanade, where Katie snacked on some seagulls – everyone seemed quite pleased about that.
At the Beacon Arts Centre, Katie joined a dance class and accidentally knocked over the piano with a tentacle. “Oops! My bad!” she giggled.
At Battery Park, she played football with the local kids. Her team won 10–2, thanks to her eight fantastic feet!
Everywhere she went, people smiled. Some were surprised, but most just said, “A kraken? Aye, fair enough. No trouble pal. Want a cuppa?”
After three wonderful days, Katie felt refreshed and happy. She had bought souvenirs (a Lyle Hill fridge magnet and a Morton mug), made lots of new friends, and eaten a bucket of chips with extra vinegar.
“It’s time to go home,” she said to Jamie, giving him a gentle hug with her tentacle. “I’ll miss you,” said Jamie. “Will you come back?”
Katie winked. “Maybe next summer. Tell your gran thanks for the scarf!”
And with a splash and a wave, Katie the Kraken disappeared beneath the Clyde, heading back to her underwater home, her heart full of happy Greenock memories.
Centuries ago, a comet travelled from the far end of the universe.
It crashed into ancient Scotland, creating Cardwell Bay.
Many years later, what was left of the meteor, became the Granny Kempock Stone, which people would touch and circle around to create good luck.
And it was lucky and so Gourock was lucky, but no one ever asked why.
A grumpy old man from over the river, thought it was a bit unfair for Gourock to have all the luck, so one day, when no one was looking, he tried to smash up the Kempock Stone with a big hammer.
Smash!
He didn’t break the stone though, he only cracked it, revealing a beautiful red crystal.
The crystal chimed, still shaking from the blow of the hammer.
And as it chimed, that sound travelled all the way back across the universe, to where the comet had first come from.
Right at the edge of the universe, two huge armies were at war.
The two armies had been fighting for as long as anyone could remember, and it was all because each side blamed the other for losing an important stone. A crystal stone, which had been created to help them find a new home.
The fighting stopped as they heard the sound of the crystal, echoing across the stars. The stone was safe and it had found a new home for them.
So the armies joined forces and set off for Earth, ready for battle.
It was a lovely sunny day in Gourock when the rampaging army arrived.
Some of the army went for a swim in the outdoor pool.
Some of the army had a cone.
Some of the army went shopping.
Everyone had a great day.
And at the end of the day, the army went to find their missing stone up on top of the hill above the town. The Kempock Stone, their crystal comet. It seemed happy where it was.
The armies decided to leave it there, so Gourock is still just as lucky!
Which is typical.
There once was a boat made of sweeties.
The deck was made of gingerbread planks all stuck together with caramel. The funnel was made of crunchy stripey mints. The cabin was made of candy, with furniture carved from the finest chocolate, all of it covered in jelly sweets and buttons and beans.
People called it the Sugar Boat. And this boat, was owned by a witch who lived on the river. She had to live on the river, because long ago, she had fallen out with another witch and been cursed. So now, if she ever set foot on shore, she would turn to stone. The exact same thing had happened to her Granny down in Gourock, so the River Witch wasn’t taking any chances.
Instead, she would sail up and down the river, making sweets and singing songs and hoping that some of the children who lived by the river would swim out to her boat, looking for treats. The River Witch didn’t like sweeties, but she thought children were just delicious.
One night, there was a terrible storm, and the River Witch’s boat tipped over, started to sink and then…drifted onto a sandbank.
The Sugar Boat and the River Witch, were stuck.
The next day, everyone could see the Sugar Boat from the nearby shore. The storm had cleared the skies, and all the sweeties sparkled and glittered in the morning sun. The boat was now on its side, but there were still hundreds and hundreds of sweeties just waiting to be eaten.
The River Witch climbed out of a porthole, up onto the side of the boat, smiled, and waited.
“Don’t dare go out there,” said the grown-ups, “or the River Witch will get you.”
And the children all nodded sadly.
So the River Witch sang some songs. She had a beautiful voice, almost hypnotic, and some of the children wandered down to the river’s edge, ready to swim out to the Sugar Boat, before the grownups pulled them back.
“Don’t listen to her,” said the grown-ups, “the River Witch is just trying to steal you away.”
And the children all nodded again.
So the River Witch clambered back down into her kitchen, which was a bit upside down since the
storm, and started cooking more sweet treats. She made gingerbread skeletons and octopus jellies and chocolate goldfish and all the wonderful, sweet smells of sticky sweeties swirled over to shore.
“Put these pegs on your noses,” said the grown-ups, “if you try to eat the River Witch’s sweeties, it’s you that will end up cooked.”
And all the children pinched their noses and pretended not to care about sweeties.
Until after bedtime.
Then, the children sneaked out of their houses and down to the shore and filled some old glass jars with sand and dirt.
The children loaded up some rowboats, with sacks and hammers and nails and rowed out to the Sugar Boat.
The children clambered quietly onto the upturned ship, tip toeing and scuttling as silently as could be, so as not to wake the witch.
They scattered the sand from the shore all around the cabin so the River Witch couldn’t step out on deck, in case she turned to stone.
Each of them found a porthole, or a window, or a door, took out their hammers and…nailed them all shut. Bang! Bang! Bang! Trapping the witch in the half sunk ship.
As they hammered and banged, the River Witch woke and saw what had happened, and she shrieked and cursed.
But the children just laughed and started filling their sacks with sweeties.
There’s no sweets left on the sugar boat now, the one’s that weren’t eaten have all fallen off or melted into the river – that’s why we have the sweetest river in the world…
…but some say, that if you pass by the ship today, you can still hear the angry River Witch trapped inside. Tap tap tapping with her long nails, trying to get out in case one day, the boat sinks forever.
As everyone knows, The Waverley sails up and down the Clyde all summer, taking families and friends on wonderful days out, her great red funnels puffing cheerfully and her paddle wheels churning the waves.
What many people don’t know, is that once a year, every October, The Waverley sails after dark. At midnight, when the moon floats high and the river turns silver and still…
…the ghosts come out to play.
And it was a night just like this, that a boy named Calum McLean decided to sneak aboard the ship.
Calum was a curious boy — always poking into dark corners, lifting hatches, and pressing buttons he shouldn’t press. That night, the ship was docked in Oban, ready for its winter rest. But Calum wanted one last adventure before the season ended. He tiptoed up the gangway with a flashlight and a jam sandwich in his coat pocket.
The Waverley creaked in the wind as he wandered through the empty dining room, the chairs stacked and tied down, the smell of sea-salt and old oil thick in the air.
“Nothing spooky here,” Calum whispered to himself.
But just as he turned to leave… CLANG.
The ship’s bell rang. Once. Twice. Thrice.
With a shudder and a splash, The Waverley set sail.
Calum froze. The air turned cold — too cold. His breath puffed like smoke. And then… he heard footsteps. Not the slow kind that drag, no, these were bouncy.
Tap-tap-tap!
Thud-thud-thud!
He peeked around the corner, and there, on the deck, danced a little girl in an old-fashioned dress.
She twirled and giggled… but her feet never touched the ground. She floated.
"Want to play tig?" she asked, her voice echoing as if spoken down a long tunnel.
Calum ran — through the narrow halls, past the boiler room, up to the captain’s bridge. But the ship seemed…different now.
Longer. Twistier. The halls led nowhere. The doors shut on their own.
And from every corridor came the whisper: “Stay for tea…”
Calum wasn't alone.
Children in sailor suits and long petticoats peeked out from behind lifeboats. An old sea captain with a crooked beard and barnacles on his boots wandered the deck, muttering about a storm that never came. And in the engine room, the ghost of a man with soot-streaked cheeks kept shovelling invisible coal into the gap where the furnace used to be.
They weren’t mean ghosts. Just… lonely.
“Where do you come from?” Calum asked the little girl, once his legs stopped shaking.
“We were passengers, once,” she said, brushing seaweed from her hair. “But we missed our stop.”
Calum stayed with them until the first light of dawn glowed over the water, and the ship pulled back into port. Then, just as suddenly as they’d appeared, the ghosts vanished, like breath on a window. The ship creaked again, gently, like it had just woken from a long dream. And Calum?
He was found asleep on a bench by the crew the next morning, sandwich untouched, flashlight dead, and hair turned just a little whiter than before.
Be sure to look out whenever The Waverley sails under a full moon in October, some say you can hear ghostly laughter riding on the wind. A ship’s bell rings three times, even when no one is near. And if you look closely at the windows…
You might just see a little girl in an old dress, pressing her palm to the glass.
Smiling.
Waiting.
For someone new to play tig.
