Something ancient and unspeakably evil

lurks in these woods. That's almost always what this means, I think.

We picked blackberries here. Well, we thought they were blackberries, but when we looked at them again the way they seemed to writhe and seethe in the bowl was unsettling, and there was a pale luminescent quality to the light around them which made them hard to really see clearly. We lit a fire and burnt them: it seemed best. I had strange disjointed dreams, when I could sleep, in which something enormous was trying to get into the room. This morning the cat, normally placid and unafraid, was cowering under a wardrobe and there are odd scratches on the windows.

Something, I fear, came home with the blackberries.