REGIONAL—Sensational headlines about northern Minnesota have been showing up in my social media feeds with increasing frequency—first as standalone posts from pages with no identifiable local connection, then amplified as people I know comment on or share them, and finally repackaged by other sensational social media pages with large followings.
Even I was drawn in at first. But the details of these stories did not hold up against what I know to be true. A beloved stray dog from Ely is suddenly “adopted” by a wolf pack that is conveniently documented by an unnamed farmer’s trail camera (which Ely farmer?).
A school bus crashes into “Lake Weller” more than 50 years ago, while at an unnamed nearby city café regulars warn people never to approach the lake in winter because voices can still be heard beneath the ice. (Turns out there is no Lake Weller in Minnesota. And Weller Lake in nearby Ontario has no nearby cities). These narratives stitch together real-sounding places, fabricated local lore, and vague attribution into something that feels plausible—but isn’t.
There is an important distinction here. When I pick up a work of fiction or go to a movie, I am choosing to engage with storytelling and imagination. What is different—and troubling—about these viral posts is that they are presented as news or true local history, without disclosing that they are actually fiction that is deliberately engineered to provoke curiosity and engagement. One social media post about a northern Minnesota lake that drained every year overnight and then filled back up mysteriously before spring had a commenter ask what lake this was. This important detail was not in the story. Another commenter responded, “It is Fake. Fake lake.” The original commenter responded, “Okay, thank you. I fell for an AI story.”
Social media algorithms reward engagement— whether content is true or false. Every click, comment (even to say “this is fake”), and share tells the platform that the content is working. That attention rewards the creators and encourages them to produce more of the same.
The page called Reality Rewind, which published the “Voices—From Beneath the Ice” story on Dec. 4, lists itself as based in Palo Alto, California, with moderation occurring in India. It posts roughly 20 sensational “stories” per day, typically pairing a U.S. state with a strange or ominous distortion of natural phenomenon. Since early December alone, it has published multiple fabricated stories about Minnesota waterbodies.
None of this content is rooted in northern Minnesota. Yet it uses our places—or distorted versions of them—our lakes, our towns, our natural phenomena (real or imagined) — to generate clicks. To what end? Most likely profit, but none of that profit benefits Minnesotans or the natural world we love.
The simplest response? Pause to think before engaging. If a story feels sensational, vague, or oddly sourced, do not share it. Don’t feed the beast! Our natural resources do not need invented stories—even if they cannot compete with the power of social media algorithms.