It was a muggy summer evening more than a decade ago in Apopka, Florida. Spanish moss hung like tattered capes on the gnarled oaks that loomed over cabins where, as day turned to night, tired campers made their way to their bunks. After a long day of archery, arts-and-crafts, and waterskiing, there was still one more activity for a willing audience: the nightly ghost story. The dim glow of a flashlight illuminated the faces of a dozen tween boys. A brave few grinned with anticipation. Some listened cautiously, hiding their…
