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Six unsettling tales from a master of Polish weird fiction. Stefan Grabiński, the forgotten giant of interwar horror, builds his stories around ordinary spaces that become saturated with dread: a house where the scent of roses turns malevolent, windows that reveal impossible scenes, places that seem to breathe madness into their inhabitants. His supernatural is not ghoulish but psychological, creeping in through cracks in rational thought. These are stories where the explanation never quite satisfies, where the reader is left with the uncomfortable suspicion that the boundary between our world and something else is thinner than we'd like to believe. Grabiński wrote in the 1920s and 1930s, drawing on Gothic tradition but infusing it with a distinctly modern anxiety. For readers who prefer their horror suggestive rather than explicit, who want to feel unease rather than just be frightened.