A twisted fantasy

For as long as I can remember, this has been my safe haven, this place in there, right here by the chimney in the basement. The smells that surrounds me as I creep into the dark gives me comfort. A scent of burned wood from the hardworking furnace, the weak rancid smell of enclosed humidity that fills the moist air of our basement and the ever present odor of the patiently waiting corpses beneath the cracking floorboards. The composition of smells instill calm in me, I know these smells, I've been living with them all my life. Every time They would come to our door I'd hide here, scurrying as fast as my blades and claws allows me, as far into the darkness I could reach. Monsters They call us, menacingly waving their pitchforks and blazing flames around, looking for blood, our blood, to spill. Maybe we are monsters, but it's They who hunts us, relentless and without mercy. We are not allowed in their world, they hate us, fear us, cursing the ground we touch. They are here now, I can hear them, my stomach growls in anticipation. They never learn, never will, humans are weak that way.