Imagine it is winter, and you are late for an appointment. You wanted to make a shortcut through the old park that had been in the centre of the town since Prussian times, but now it’s getting dark and the paths all seem to be longer and more winding than you expected; there are not enough street lamps to light the falling dusk. In the bare trees around you, crows are sitting, cawing menacingly. You cross the small bridge that leads across the lake in the centre of the park, and suddenly there is movement in the water, strange motions under the surface – too many to be those of fish. You stop and lean over the railing to see what it might be. Then you see two eyes staring back at you.

The Polish province of Warmia-Masuria is a wonderful place, full of pleasant rolling fields and wooded hills, hundreds of deep lakes and rivers, big and small. This is a pleasant holiday destination and extremely popular with summer visitors who flock here for swimming, kayaking and sailing; who can enjoy the amazing food of this mostly agricultural area, namely fresh fish, mushrooms, blueberries and the delicious local beers brewed here.

When the summer visitors are gone, however, this is a very different place, especially in the autumn and winter. Dark, cold, the lakes frozen over and the trees on the shores no longer giving shade, but instead resembling menacing scarecrows. In between the rolling hills sit dark moors; the rivers no longer gurgle pleasantly, instead taking on a threatening air. It is a landscape that demands respect in all seasons, and the people living here have always known this. In winter, they hide inside to weather out the snowstorms, like they have done for centuries. The time spent inside is a good opportunity to retell the stories about the moors and lakes and the ghosts that inhabit