My grandma used to tell me of the dangers that lurk in the Manistee National Forest, but I never believed her. She’d tell me stories of monsters and fairies and a beautiful bridge that connected their world to ours. She said that our family was cursed, and that if I ever dared to go inside, I’d never come out. I didn’t take her seriously, she was old and had dementia, but I wish I would have. Maybe it would have prepared me, or maybe it would have stopped me from going on that trip altogether.