The setting of Red Entaries is vividly described, with a focus on the Moon and the futuristic city of Red Entaries. The author does a good job of creating a believable and immersive world, with attention to detail and a sense of place. The futuristic technology and space travel elements of the story are integrated well into the narrative, enhancing the science fiction aspect of the book.
The writing style of Red Entaries is engaging and descriptive, with a good balance of action and introspection. The author's prose is well-crafted and keeps the reader engaged in the story. The pacing of the plot is effective, with enough twists and turns to maintain interest and suspense.
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,
A 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.
Did you like the sneak peek?
