I was nurtured in the serene expanse of the Northwoods of Wisconsin, within the unincorporated bounds of a quaint town known as Dancy. This community, steeped in charm, clings to its historical roots, proudly showcasing an aged train depot, a schoolhouse, a general store, and a saloon, all remnants from the twilight of the 1880s. Positioned on the fringe of the George W. Mead State Wildlife Area, Dancy is cradled atop a foundation of granite and quartz, interlaced with lakes and hidden rivers beneath its surface, casting a mysterious, almost otherworldly glow over the town.

            Spanning an impressive expanse of over 33,000 acres, the George W. Mead State Wildlife Area emerges as a sanctuary of unparalleled natural beauty, home to 273 cataloged species of birds, alongside a diverse array of mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and insects. Nestled amidst this vast natural treasury, I was fortunate to grow up with more than 80 miles of hiking and recreational trails as my backyard playground, where I cultivated a deep respect and adoration for the splendor of the natural world from a tender age.

            Yet, beneath its picturesque surface, local lore whispers of curses that shroud the land, with admonitions to vacate the woods before the descent of twilight. The phrase "foggy in the boggy" has become a cautious mantra among the residents, a warning to be wary of both wildlife and phantoms that lurk in the fields as daylight fades.

            Dancy and its surroundings are steeped in a tumultuous history, scarred by fierce conflicts over the stewardship of its natural resources, notably in the territories of Lake DuBay, Knowlton, Eau Pleine, George W. Mead, and Rozellville. This land also serves as a crucial stopover for migrating birds and a haven for owls, the enigmatic denizens capable of coexisting with the spirits that roam these woods.            

            Beyond the embrace of the wilderness, Lake DuBay offered a scenic backdrop to my childhood, with its sprawling waters and hydroelectric dam fueling countless memories of family, friendship, and first forays into love at the DuBay Park.

            The journey along Highway E unveils the eco-conscious efforts of Ocean Spray Cranberries farming alongside the awe-inspiring spectacle of the dam. Witnessing the unleashed power of water as the gates open remains an entrancing experience, a testament to the harmonious balance between human ingenuity and the natural world.

            Dancy is a nexus of renewable energy, set against the backdrop of Marathon County's quartz-rich terrain, with the historical railway and a church contributing their unique essence to the town's character and its paranormal mystique.

            The Victorian home that cradled my upbringing, known to many as the Blacksmith Shop, stands as a monument to history, its architecture defying the passage of time. Anchored at the crossroads of unseen forces, this property emerges as a beacon of mysterious energies.

            In "Stories of Mirrors," I aim to unravel the intricate history of Dancy, seeking explanations for the phenomena that permeate this land. Could the origins of these occurrences lie within the area itself, the storied walls of my childhood home, or perhaps in something as mundane as black mold?        

            Or was it — the male spirit that presides over this land deliberately called upon my Mother. It is a phenomenon not unheard of, for sacred spaces often seek out families to fill their embrace, and our home, imbued with such spiritual connections, stands as a testament to this ancient, invisible bond.