The first time he saw the smiley face he was three. It's his earliest memory. He pictures his parents doing the Christmas shopping. The delight on his Mother's face when she found the box of crayons with a smiley face drawn on each colour. When they wrapped the box up and placed it at the bottom of his stocking, they had no idea what they were helping to create. When the hectic routines that took place every Christmas morning, had quieted down, he had sat on his bed with a colouring book on his lap. He took his new box of crayons and poured out all the colours on to his quilt. He picked each one up and studied the smiley faces. He's fascinated how each colour gave the face a different feel. The white he imagined as a ghost. The blue seemed cold and unfeeling, the pink, girly, the yellow, sunny and cheesy. It was the red one that caught his attention. It made him shiver and his instinct was to bury his head under the covers, until, he reminded himself that it was only a crayon. He found himself laying the crayon aside. He didn't want to use it. To risk breaking the crayon, or tearing the face. As he coloured he would sneak looks at it. He felt excitement form, as butterflies, at the bottom of his stomach. He couldn't escape the feeling that something important had just happened in his life. When he finished colouring he put all the crayons back in the box. All except one. The red one was carefully placed in his treasure trove box, along side a cat's claw he'd found during a walk in the woods with his dad and a glass stone he found at the beach.

At the age of seven he realised he was searching out the smiley face. No that's wrong, he wasn't searching it out, it was finding him. It would appear before him all the time. The eyes following him until he was out of it's sight. He was disappointed to find that most of the time it was a yellow smiley face. But then he decided it made his red one special. He found a football with a red smiley face, he imagined throwing it and the face blurring as it spun in the air. He imagined his dad throwing it to him and the face coming clearer as the rotations slowed down as it reached his hands. but he couldn't buy it. it was too much money. He saved his allowance for a month but when he went back to the shop it was gone. The owner said they wouldn't be getting anymore. He'd been so angry. He'd never felt that angry in his life before. Later when people talked about seeing red before their eyes, he would always remember this day. By the end of the day there was blood on his hands. He was fascinated as he watched the life drain from the eyes of his beloved hamster. As the blood ebbed away he felt his anger flow with it. He laid on his bed unable to sleep, reliving the feel of the knife cutting through the flesh and the sight of the blood welling up and dripping on to the newspaper that was laid beneath the hamster. He dipped his finger in to it, bringing it to his nose he inhaled deeply, the scent seemed to flow through his veins. He tasted it.

At ten he received his best present ever! He didn't think that his crayon could be beaten. He had come out of his bedroom to find a black bike in the living room. Much bigger than the one he's had since he was seven. He then opened a new baseball glove. His dad talked about oiling it together. Softening the leather so it fit in to his hand like a second skin. He received his own encyclopedia set, he loving looking at each one and imagined the exciting wonders of the world that awaited within. Then his Mother handed him a long tube. He tore off the paper and opened the lid at the end. He peered in and gently pulled out the poster inside. Opening it up, there was the most beautiful sight. It out stripped any work of art, produced anywhere in the world. It was a giant smiley face on a red background. He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. He jumped up, asking his mom for tape. She laughingly found it in the draw and handed it to him. He raced down the hall to his bedroom, the words of his dad following after him, of how they could have left all the other things in the shops. He chose carefully the place on the wall. At the bottom of his bed was the best place, it would be the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing at night. He sat up against the headboard and looked at the poster. The face painted on the side of red wall. behind it a wood, tall trees looming up through the darkness. The atmosphere at odds with the smile. He loved it , it reminded him of himself.