Red Entaries

One

 If it was only a dream, why did I not shake it but hold it still so firmly? Why did the sphere of glass not crack upon the Moon the diameter of the palm of my hand, where I could squeeze as hard as I could, yet not so? My heart was in it, but why? A man's thought elapsed. He stood to release the tension in his hand, but before the shimmering globe was let go, he observed a three-foot pedestal, half the size of himself, being a stature of six feet. He looked top to bottom to where the crown of the skinny neck was a bed cushioned to fit a bauble. The flat bottom had two legs, silver, heart shaped, and entwined.

His great grandfather shared it too, he thought, his dream.

He twirled the crystallized ball between his thumb and forefingers and around his fingers until it looked back at him like a giant eye, blinking, but not more menacing than the hard time he was thinking of, how the first Moon colony was built, but in Trevor's case, yes, his name was Trevor Trahern. He even believed he had a small amount of royal blood back in the dark days. The documentation could prove it, he would say, but as I was saying; he was thinking of the first station on the Moon.

Trevor remembered when he imagined the Moon as a young child, a platform for First Reach and many generations of men before Trahern was raised. Here's how it goes:

A dusty old Moon,

Like a shaved rock and bricks bashed together

And shale that was as broken peanut butter brittle,

But not little as some were the size

Of or half a man—but shrewd and congruent.

These bits of rock or Moon rock,

Some might say,

Were used in the construction

Of an everyday First Reach public abode.

It was built in the hardest of times,

But not as hard as Moonlit,

An ale that would bring you back

To giddy childhood memories and a warm hearth's fire,

Like your heart,

But it poured even as a steaming smelter

To dry parched tongues in radiated heat.

Moon Divers were risking their lives day or night.

A rock, or, as they would have it,

A pearl in the dark sea,

A pricey timeless ripple in space-time.

A ageless hope of mankind and the muscle

Within watching ever gleefully,

As the expectant watchtower,

Waiting for her mother ship to one

Day part into her white shores.

A sign of hope, she was the

First Reach of Moon Lodger's Inn.

Trevor gently placed the Moon rock back in its case with respect for his great grandfather who, supposedly, bought the antique at a steal.

He let go then smiled gently and closed his eyes. He saw for the first time why this dream meant so much to him. He himself gave hope to others, and if they were willing to look back into the past, they could see how Trahern made a difference for the Moon colonists, but, being the overachiever as Trevor was, he wanted more.