Stage Pond Ghost Town

A Forgotten Crossroads of Citrus County

Tucked deep in the wilds of Citrus County, Florida, where pine trees whisper old secrets and the earth remembers every footfall, lies a place called Stage Pond. What’s left of it, anyway. Blink and you’ll miss it. But linger… and the land might just whisper back.

In the late 1800s, towns like this bloomed like orange blossoms across Florida, rooted in citrus dreams and warm winters. But when the great freeze of 1894-95 gripped the state like a vengeful ghost, it didn’t just kill trees—it shattered livelihoods. The once-hopeful hum of communities like Stage Pond fell quiet.

But before the silence, there was a story.

The Dawn of the Stagecoach Era

Stage Pond’s beginnings date back to the early 1800s, when settlers were drawn by fertile land and a natural pond that mirrored the sky. It wasn’t much initially—just a few hearty farming families: Sparkman, Sadler, Leggette, Cason, Rooks. By 1885, a dozen souls called it home.

Then came the stagecoaches.

The interior needed mail routes when Florida changed hands from Spain to the U.S. in 1821. Enter the stagecoach: a rickety wooden box, pulled by a team of horses, bouncing down dusty trails at 10 to 15 cents a mile. No steamships. No highways. Just wheels, grit, and the kind of passengers who knew how to pack a flask and say their prayers.

Stage Pond Takes the Stage

By 1879, the town had a name and a pulse. Mr. Stanley manned the post office and the general store. A turpentine still steamed under the care of Mr. Smith. And—brace yourself for this bit—a convict labor camp kept things lively, complete with baseball games played by the inmates. Yes, really. Locals used to gather to watch.

By the mid-1800s, Stage Pond was more than a pit stop. It was a full-fledged waystation between Ocala and Tampa—mail, passengers, and gossip were all passing through. The population ballooned to 250. There was a school, a cemetery, commerce, and enough motion to give the town a heartbeat.

War, Railroads, and the Ticking Clock

Stage Pond’s dusty trails during the Civil War carried Confederate troops and supplies. But time marches on, and iron rails soon outpaced wooden wheels. After the war, the railroad crept across Florida, and the stagecoach era began to rust.

Stage Pond held on, but just barely. The town’s significance waned as cars rolled in and trains took over. What had once been a lifeline was now a memory.

A Last Hurrah: The Phosphate Boom

Despite the decline of the stagecoach, Stage Pond had one last boom during the phosphate mining rush of the late 1800s and early 1900s. Phosphate was a valuable resource used in fertilizers and industrial applications, and mining brought new life to the area. Railroads were built to transport phosphate from mines in nearby towns like Floral City and Homosassa.

However, this boom could have been longer-lived. The local economy began to suffer again after phosphate mining dwindled. Stage Pond’s fate as a ghost town was sealed with the citrus industry decimated by the 1895 freeze and phosphate mining tapering off.

Stage Pond Cemetery: Ghosts Beneath the Pines

What remains today is mostly silence… and stone. The Stage Pond Cemetery, founded in the early 1900s, is a fragile thread to the past. Weathered headstones lean like tired travelers. The first recorded burial was Walter Renfroe in 1901, but who knows how many lie beneath the moss and pine needles, nameless now.

Some visitors report whispers among the trees, cold spots that linger in the midday sun, and the sense of not being alone. Me? I saw no specters, but the air was thick with memory. That’s spooky enough.

A Hike Through History

I wandered the nearby Withlacoochee Forest, chasing old foundations and the ghost of a schoolhouse. A 1987 article mentioned a student who saw its remains. All I found were a few stubborn concrete fragments, half-swallowed by time.

Still, the cemetery is well cared for—surprisingly so. Some stones have been replaced with newer ones, etched with tributes and even hand-painted murals. There is a blend of old grief and modern reverence—the past, re-remembered.

Want to see what I saw?  Click here.

Stage Pond Today: Faint Echoes and Old Roads

The town itself is gone, but not erased. Faint trails of the old stagecoach road still run through the forest like veins in a forgotten map. The cemetery keeps its silent vigil. And if you’re the kind of traveler who listens with your feet and heart… You might just hear Stage Pond whispering its story back.

History buffs, ghost chasers, or curious wanderers—this one’s for you.

Just don’t go alone after dark. You never know who might still be playing baseball out there.