Your tired eyes fluttered open, the darkness of your room greeted you. Drowsily you pealed off your light covers from your body and rolled out of bed. Your bare feet hit the soft carpeted floor of your small bedroom. There was a gentle snore on the opposite side of the bed. You sluggishly walked over to the source of the gentle noise. In the darkness, you could just make out the faint outline of your slumbering daughter, Sunny.  With your thumb, you gently wiped away the line of spittle that had formed down her jaw. You tucked Sunny in a little more and gave her a gentle peck on the forehead. You walked towards the shut door, your footsteps muffled by the soft patting of carpet. Opening the door you stepped out into the kitchen, and shut the door tightly behind you, careful not to wake your sleeping angel.

Flicking on the kitchen light you began to go to work. You grabbed a wicker basket and a roll of paper towels, taking a singular rectangle from the roll and placing it in the bottom of the basket you make your way outside. The warm morning air greeted you as you stepped outdoors. It seems even the sun was asleep, or perhaps only waiting for Sunny to awake and help brighten a nice summer day. Three bushes lay before you, the first a blueberry bush; the most important ingredient for this morning’s meal, blueberry pancakes. Lunch will be followed by the second bush; red raspberries for a homemade pie. And the final bush grew blackberries, they will make a tasty jam for tomorrow’s toast.

You got to work, quickly filling your wicker basket first with the blueberries, then the raspberries. Basket full you hurried inside to empty the berries into a large bowl, before coming out once more to fill it full. As the sun began to rise, you badly pricked your finger on the sharp thorns of the bush. Your red blood was eager to leave your body through the new exit, and before you could stop it, blood was all but dripping down your hand. You swore under your breath but continued picking the blackberries.

Finished and ready to cook you entered your quaint home just as Sunny exited your shared room. The 5-year-old rubbed her tired eyes, before sitting in her chair. “Good morning mommy,” Sunny said, before plucking one of the blueberries out of the basket and popping it into her mouth. “Honey, those are for the pancakes!” you gasped playfully. Sunny stuck her pink tongue out at you. You returned the favor with your own, plus a silly face. Sunny giggled her golden curls bouncing with glee. You smiled, getting back to work on breakfast.

Soon the meal was finished cooking, setting the warm buttermilk blueberry pancakes in front of your little sunshine. You quickly buttered up her pancakes, cut them up into bite-sized pieces, and poured sweet maple syrup over them. Sunny quickly dug into her food with vigor, enjoying every bite she took. You do the same, eating your pancakes the way you like them. Plates cleared and bellies full, you took the dirty dishes and began to clean them. Once clean you set them in the dishwasher for a better clean. “Momma! Can I feed the chickens, pleeeeeease? ” Sunny begged those pretty blue eyes of hers big and pleading. You smiled and said, “Alright dear, just don’t look old Miss Betty in the eye,” you paused, “she might get ‘cha like she did mommy!” you exclaimed teasingly. Sunny crossed her arms and pouted playfully, “Momma, she won’t get me! Miss Betty likes me.” you laughed. “If you say so sunshine. Go on and feed them before they get any hungrier.” Sunny grins before dashing out of the door to go to the chicken coop.  But… she doesn’t, she just... Freezes at the door.  “Sunny? Honey is everything alri-” You see it. Just at the forest line stands a tall figure. A monster.
Maybe if you had been a little more careful about picking those blackberries, you and your daughter’s life would have continued this peaceful bliss of a life you had.

But alas, change must come. And this change brings both the good…

And the bad.