AT the time, my family was renting an old farmhouse on Curve Road, just outside of Mosinee, Wisconsin. Before we moved in, the place had a rather unusual history - it used to be a snake farm. The previous owner, a redneck of sorts, decided to give up raising serpents and released some of them in the dirt cellar while letting the rest roam freely on the property. 

#

I was only four years old, sitting in the back seat of the Bronco on the passenger side, behind my mother, who kept an eye on my one-year-old sister. My father was driving, and the car hummed quietly as it traveled down the familiar road, heading home for the first time. We slowed down on Highway 34 South, turned right onto Hwy County C, and clapped over the railroad tracks before making another right onto Old Dancy Road. Our new home stood as the third house on the left, a majestic white Victorian house with a weathered wood exterior, decorative trim, a steep multi-faceted roof, and a one-story wrap-around porch surrounded by a moat of purple lilacs and green land. My mother was immediately enchanted by the property, knowing it would provide the space she needed to care for her family. When my father turned off the truck, the owner of the property, Jim, greeted us, dressed in what appeared to be a Hunter S. Thompson drug collection outfit, complete with an Archangel Michael pendant. 

           Jim introduced himself with a chuckle, saying, “Hello folks, I'm the gatekeeper. Let's go in and take a look.”             

           We all entered through the back porch as Jim began to explain the details of the house. He informed us that the house was old, and though some parts of the electricity had been updated, not all rooms had access to it. The plumbing required careful use, as it was installed after the house was constructed and located in a closet off the kitchen. He also mentioned a 2-seater shitter outside on the property for use. Jim humorously added that the house would slightly move when the train passed by on the nearby railroad tracks, and that the basement would have a puddle of water each spring in the back corner. He emphasized the importance of staying indoors when the nearby granite and quartz pit was blasting to avoid any rock debris.

            As my father inquired about the neighbors, Jim smiled and shared some colorful descriptions. He mentioned some interesting characters living up the road, referring to them as "crazy Indians" with dream catchers, wind chimes, and beer cans everywhere. Despite their rowdiness, he assured us that they were good folks. Jim also spoke of another neighbor living two houses down with a young girl, all part of the backwoods community.

            While Jim and my parents were conversing, I couldn't resist exploring the house on my own. I ran through the first floor and into the front parlor, where emerald green wallpaper adorned the walls, decorated with white and pink flowers. Looking out of the handmade glass window with lead panes, I noticed the illusion of rippling water on the railroad tracks as the train passed by. A doorway off the parlor led to the entrance hall, taking me upstairs to a prepossessing tower room. Brown wallpaper with white and yellow flowers adorned this chamber, along with a walk-in closet and the entryway to the attic. Three separate windows faced south, between the first and second window from the left, on the wall, an antiqued gold rectangle mirror with carved wood trim caught my eye.             

            I stood before the mirror, the sunshine filling the room, when suddenly I heard footsteps in the hallway. As the footsteps reached the doorway of the bedroom, they stopped, but no one was there.

#

As we rode back to the Hainey place, crossing the lake, my dad turned on the radio. The new home needed some work, but it was undeniably magical.

            "What room are you going to choose, Erica?" my mom asked.

            As the older sister, I was given the responsibility of deciding which bedroom my sister Sarah and I would share. Mom and Dad would have their room, and the rest of the space would be for indoor farming.

            Mom turned around and looked at me in the back seat, asking, "You liked the room with the mirror, didn't you?"

            I nodded, replying softly, “Yes.”