On a foggy night, in a dreary month, in a not particularly merry year, Seamus Leery, sat atop his perch on a humble little hill pondering the many tales, rumors, and fallacies of their quaint home town. His mind was vividly exploring the cause of the accruing cost of his favorite sugary treats when his eyes gazed, like fire, the head of Tanya Mcmerry. “Good evening” said Tanya. “Good evening” said Seamus, and together they sat atop a proud little hill, on a much clearer night, in a less dreary month, in a not particularly unmerry year, pondering the many tales, rumors, and fallacies of their quaint home town. “Did you hear the Obrians had a baby?” Seamus asked. “Paul”, Tanya would respond nodding a slight nod, and the cherry of her cigarette would grow bright as she took in a breath and blew shapes of all kinds for Seamus's amusement. This would go on into all hours of the night until Tanya would run out of smoke, or Seamus would run out of thoughts, so they'd just sit there together enjoying the night sky. This was the nightly sequence of events atop that humble little hill for many years, but there is a point in every young womans life when the quaint little village was no longer cozy, but became cramped with much youthful ambition, and little room for such angst. On a particularly lovely day, in an amazingly beautiful month, in a particularly merry year, Seamus Leery and Tanya Mcmerry were perched upon their quaint hill, not discussing the many tales, rumors, and fallacies of their quaint home town. “Did you hear I'm moving to the city?” Tanya quizzed. “Tomorrow”, answered Seamus with not much enthusiasm, but this time he took particular notice of her pale features, her blazing hair, her dabbled freckles, and even the glow of her cigarette burned itself into his memories. They just sat there as usual, into the waning hours of the night until Seamus ran out of thoughts, or Tanya ran out of smoke and left a few minutes apart, just like every other night.

On the next particular evening a thunder storm came in, and Seamus Leery sat squinting against the rain and shuddering against the cold. He sat pondering the features of Tanya Mcmerry, and looking at the moon, with its pale face, dark freckles, and lightning that burned into his memory like the cherry of a stale cigarette. “What happened to your hair?” he asked the sky recalling how her hair had burned bright red even on the blackest of nights. He received no response. The next day he wrote a story. Its was called “A Solution”. It was one sentence long and said “I shall paint Tanya Mcmerry on the moon”.

For weeks he gathered free from ridicule. Free from hassle, for the town also missed the silhouettes of the two figures pleasantly sitting on a pleasant little hill. He gathered roses, he gathered paint. He gathered apples, dresses, clay and foxes. He gathered buildings, and gathered seats. He even gathered a fiery mountains peak. He gathered blood, and the Red Barons plane. He gathered cute red kittens, again and again. He added saffron, cayenne, and a dash of chili. Raspberries, strawberries, and cranberries he added to, and even a red snake he found at the zoo. He took all these things and collected them well, into one great pile he move his hoard. He tried all sorts of balloon, springs, and cannons, but what goes up must come down. He collected a trash can, and clock tower, and 50 bails of hey, and built a rocket fifty feet high. He waited till night fall with an eager smile, but a patient hand. He watched the sun crest the horizon.

On a foggy night, in a dreary month, in a not particularly merry year, Seamus Leery struck a match over his heart and set a blaze in his rocket that sent it hurling into the sky. He watched the bright red burning move toward him. It returned and a grin spread across his face as it burned up the side of the hill. “Good evening” said Tanya. “Good evening said Seamus. “You've got quite an imagination Seamus Leery” said Tanya with a knowing smile. Together they sat atop a proud little hill, on a much clearer night, in a less dreary month, in a not particularly unmerry year, holding hands and staring at the moon, pondering the many tales, rumors, and fallacies of their quaint home. “Don't leave me again?” asked Seamus. “I won't” said Tanya, and the moon blushed red as fire under their casual stare.