Personal Narrative: Fort Fear

Fort Fear: A Story of Family and Bravery I set my foot one step inside the hallway. Had I gone crazy? The air was musty, the path was dark, and everything was ancient. Did I dare? But then something brushed against my arm, and I could hear footsteps coming from the end of the hallway. I should have listened to what my brother said.
“This is a bad idea.” Was what he had said.
But of course I didn’t listen. My curiosity got the best of me. And now we were alone, helpless, and possibly in danger.
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My family moved at least once every two years. It was the norm. My dad worked for the DNR, which stands for district something, something. But in simpler terms, it meant he worked in state parks. Usually the state provided a house in the park, for us to stay in. And that’s where this story begins, in Key West, Florida. A small island off the tip of Florida, it was only four by two miles. I knew something was different when we moved to Fort Zachary Taylor state park. Haunted, was what the park rangers called it. But I knew they were just trying to scare me, or were they? It was a nice evening, a walk on the beach, sand

We lived right on the beach, literally the only thing the separated us was a wooden gate. Right next to us was a huge Navy seals base. Sometimes at night, we would hear big booms coming from the beach. If you looked out on the beach you may see Navy Seals dressed in black crawling out of the water. Other times we would see Cuban refugees land on our beach, and my dad would go out and help them out. It was a pretty crazy home. Also across the driveway, was what we called, the village. It was just a hidden campsite where the volunteers stayed in their campers. Everyone knew everyone, and new volunteers switched with the old ones every couple