Disclaimer: Delirium and all Sandman characters are the creations of Neil Gaiman and Mike Dringenberg and trademarks of DC Comics and Vertigo. This is a labor of love, and no money is being made off of it. Yadda, yadda, yadda...)

Hush now. If you do, I'll tell you a story.

It is the story that was told to me when I was young, as it will now be passed to you.

It is a story of beauty. Of hope. Of Delight. It is a story of the Seven.

Yes, those Seven who make us live and die and dream and despair. The Seven who are not gods and will never truly die. The Seven who exist because of us but extend far beyond our plane or imagination. They are Endless. Most of all, it is a tale of the youngest of these. Born --or created, rather -- before any of our souls were in existence.

Yes, darling. Even mine.

The youngest is Delirium, but this was a long, long time ago. Things were different then. No. I don't think dinosaurs were around.

These events took place back when the world was unspoiled by human hands. We were still a young race, past living in caves, but we were still fresh from the land.

Yes, back in the days when Delirium was Delight.

Now, Delight, as her name implies, was always glad to see a new day. It was another day for her to be happy and to spread her happiness to others. She would appear each day with the morning rays, welcoming the sun into his daily journey across the sky. Each morning she would rejoice in the promise of a new day, in the promise of life.

Many of our people would rejoice with her. They would dance in the morning light, content. They loved Delight and gave her tributes of sugar and ribbons and flowers. In return, she made them happy.

However, one day, the world stopped smiling. There was no reason given. The happiness just left from our people. Our hearts became cold. We no longer danced or rejoiced. And Delight got no more tributes. She became very lonely. She went from people to people, but she was shunned. It seemed that no one had any more time for Delight. For fun. The world was growing. She was pushed into the background. It was a terrible, bleak time in Earth's history. Only the most meticulous and honest of books make mention of the Age of Gloom, and most of those have never been written.

At long last, Delight could stand it no longer. She decided to end the terrible time. To bring the laughter back into our hearts. So that we would love her again.

Delight went to her family. She started with the eldest, Destiny, the one who holds the Book from which the Word was read in the beginning of time. The one who is blind but sees more clearly than you or I could ever imagine. She went to him, in his Garden of Diverging Paths, and asked for his help.

"Please," she said. "Please help me make them love me again. Can you put it in your book?"

"No," said Destiny in a voice like fluttering pages, almost a whisper yet determined and strong. "What must happen will happen. I shall not interfere. I shall remain here in my garden." He turned a page and almost seemed to recite from it. "But I shall wish you luck." Destiny grinned slightly, the irony of the phrase echoing in his mind. Delight left him then.

Delight next went to her sister Death, the second eldest. She asked her. "Could you come with me? Make them happy? I miss their dancing and their gifts."

Death stopped and looked at her little sister. "I'm sorry, Del." Del was little Delight's nickname. It still is, I've heard. "I'm just too busy. Besides, no one's ever happy to see me." With that, Death ran off to her next appointment. You see, people died more often back then. As I said before, it was a bleak time in our history. There was nothing to live for.

The youngest of the Endless visited her brother in his realm, the place our minds visit each night and forget in waking hours. He was in his throne room.

"Make Earth a dream, brother," she pleaded. "Make Earth a dream of me. Of happiness. Of everything that they've forgotten." Delight tore at her flowing hair. "Make them happy!"

Her brother's eyes twinkled, for the Dream-King has no true eyes. Instead, he looks upon the universe with two blazing stars encased in darkest amber. Dream looked down at her from his throne. "That is impossible, my sister," he replied. "One dream could never make all humans happy. Their race does not know what it wants. No one thing can please them, I'm afraid." Delight left the Dreaming.

She approached her other siblings. Destruction. Desire. Despair. All of them refused. Each had reasons. Delight had no one to help her.

She returned to her own realm of flowers and joy to contemplate it. Things were changing. But that didn't mean that Delight had to be forgotten. Finally, it came to her. She would give Earth a gift. Our people had given her so many wonderful things. Perhaps if she repaid us, we would love her again, she thought.

Delight journeyed here, her arms filled with her present. She could hardly contain her laughter as she sprinkled her seeds in the clouds. She spent the whole day secretly planting her present for the mortals below.

As the sun ended his travels through the sky and the shadows drew long against the ground, the people on Earth began to stop their work. They began to go home, no sign of anticipation of loved ones and rest showing on their faces.

Delight stopped them. "Stop!" she shouted from the clouds. "Look at this thing I have given you!"

For the first time in an age, the humans of Earth looked up and saw the clouds spring into bloom with the setting sun. Delight's seeds sprouted, covering the skies in the colors of her realm.

Humanity saw its first sunset. And a woman smiled. It was beautiful. A man smiled. Children giggled and pointed at their present. Delight's gift to them.

The sunset faded, giving way to night, to darkness, but the smiles remained on the people's faces. They had been given a gift. It helped them through the night. Through all the black, Delight's colors shone through, and it made them happy. The Age of Gloom was ended.

So now, little one, whenever you see the sun descending over the horizon, remember who gave us those colors and know that we are loved. Maybe offer poor Delirium a candy or a ribbon or two. She still likes those.