Harry the Mole

By Ray Mootrey

Ray Mootrey, first-time author and poet, has captured elements of new age spirituality in an exciting post-apocalyptic science fiction fantasy.

Harry the Mole is an epic poem; the story of a reluctant hero who overcomes his fears and saves his people from a malignant evil.

Filled with drama, action, romance, and Mr. Mootreys unique humor, its an adventurous romp from start to finish. A true thinkers read. Once started, its hard to put down until finished and only then leaves you with a satisfying and optimistic feeling. Well worth the read with truth more apparent between the lines.

Harry the Mole can fit into several genres. Watch for the sequel as the story of the people unfolds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524527358

Ray Mootrey

Ray Mootrey, BSc, PP, is the owner and president of Ingredient Supply Co. Inc. He was born in 1938 in Carbonear, Newfoundland, and now lives as a widower in Kitchener, Ontario, Canada. He worked most of his life in the food manufacturing business and now intends to spend most of his spare time writing. He has been a professional member of the Canadian Institute of Food Science and Technology, the Canadian Spice Association, the Association for Research and Enlightenment, and many others. Currently a member of the Canadian Authors Association, he is an avid reader who also likes a movie, a game of pool, or a game of poker.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Ray Mootrey.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5245-2736-5

                eBook            978-1-5245-2735-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 08/19/2016

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Contents

Prologue

Part    1    –    The    City

Part    2    –    The    Road

Part    3    –    The    Valley

Part4    –    The    Acceptance

Part    5    –    The    Winter

Part    6    –    The    Preparation

Part    7    –    The    Return

Part    8    –    The    Clean    Up

Epilogue

I apologize to anyone and everyone from whom I might have borrowed an idea, a word, or a phrase.

Ray Mootrey

Dedicated to Molly, my soul mate forever and to all others here or beyond who seek a glimpse of universal truth

PROLOGUE

Once in days long gone by, reaching into the sky

Was a fairly large symmetrical hill

At the end of a valley where a small river did sally

Down to the sea where everything seemed still.

But what couldn’t be seen was the essence of a dream

In the universal forces that concentrated there,

But they could be felt by the wondrous wealth

Of all natures plants that flourished and were aware.

Then some ancient people with a strange way came by one day

And built a small pyramid on the top of the hill;

Maybe just to pray, but they decided to stay,

So, all around they made homes, their lives to fulfill.

Over ages unknown a small but great city had grown

To our modern and technological days

Where people live and love with little thought of above,

And stumble on in our usual steadfast ways.

Then came a time when ages change and forces rearrange, And there was a threat to all people on Earth.

But one great scientist it seems had other dreams

And built a dome over that city of his birth.

It worked. They survived and stayed alive,

But unfortunately dark forces seemed to remain.

As things grew steadily worse, life seemed a curse,

And all the people could do was complain.

Then an unlikely man reluctantly took a stand,

Whether in defiance or whether in fear.

Maybe divine providence or maybe strange coincidence, Or maybe some of each would be fair.

Because he was mild and meek and considered very weak

And always found a reason to worry

Whether brave and bold or a poor fearful soul,

With a mole on his cheek, this is the story of Harry.

PART    1    –    THE    CITY

’Twas the dead of the night when Harry finally took flight,

Although forbidden flight was then mostly unknown;

The security lighting of streets and security fleets

Caused a natural reluctance to roam.

But Harry didn’t care, he just wanted to get clear

Of the consistent harassment each day

From the elders on top who just wouldn’t stop

In their persistent ridiculous way.

And Harry was sick of the testing and prick

Of the needles that tested his birth.

For the mole on his cheek didn’t prove he was weak

Or showed that he didn’t have worth.

It was not an infection, but they wanted perfection, For what reason he wasn’t quite sure,

Because Harry played dumb compared to some,

But he just couldn’t take anymore.

He wasn’t real small, more like fairly tall, But lanky and awkward to boot.

His elbows and knees stick out where they please,

He’d never look good in a suit.

In a shirt well worn and pants that were torn, With a hat that had a great tear.

A jacket of rags, shoes looking like bags,

A suit? Something he’d never wear.

Yeah, Harry was a sight either in fear or flight,

It would look like he didn’t have brains,

He worried each day in an unusual way

Causing himself many pains.

He didn’t weigh more than his shadow times four,

Was worrisome, scared, and weak.

Always quizzed like a spy by the doctors on high

Because of the mole on his cheek.

But behind the scene he was smart and real keen,

A genius in his own right,

But living in fear and his total despair,

That fog kept his thoughts out of sight.

Unless he was gone, the testing would go on

Until they found some excuse

To put him somewhere under their care

Or to kill him for some other use.

He couldn’t believe when he started to leave

That he even had the guts to try,

But where he’d go to he finally knew,

And he knew if he stayed here he’d die.

So, what finally gave Harry to courage to hurry

And to take off already tonight?

His mother, of course, they’re always the first

To protect their offspring, they’ll fight.

His mother had seen how Harry had been

And called him aside yesterday.

Sixty-three years old but still strong and bold

She knew he should look for a way

To stand up and fight for what he thought right

Or die bravely in the attempt.

"Having brains and the heart, you can play the part,

Although motley and mostly unkempt."

But Harry felt sure he couldn’t go out the door,

Even with mother’s pep-talk,

And the next thing she said filled him with dread,

He tried, but he just couldn’t walk.

"Your father did try when you were a boy

To move us up and keep us from harm;

Then they killed him one day in their special way

Because of the birthmark on his arm.

"So then, that is that, we’re stuck in this flat

Not allowed to leave Level Three.

To live in our fashion with our meager ration

You, your grandmother and me.

Ninety years old, God bless her soul,

She has a story to tell

And only to you; I know it’s true.

She’s your grandmother, so listen well."

With a raspy old voice and trying to be nice,

She greeted him with a toothless smile,

Said, "Sit down my boy and I’ll give a try

To entertain you for awhile.

I think you’ll agree if you listen to me,

That your fate is pre-ordained;

You are the one my only grandson

Through which our destiny could be obtained."

"Before I was born this place was warm

With joy, good times, and with love,

Full of goodwill, a city on a hill

With no dome covering above.

From far and near people came here

From neighboring villages and towns;

To buy and to sell and all was quite well,

You could have said that abundance abounds."

"So they went to and fro like the tides ebb and flow

On a beach that was just made for pleasure;

Where satisfaction and gain without any pain

Were the only things then left to measure.

Until that fateful day when news came our way

On all media at the same time,

That some foreign places were arguing cases

Over trade, religion, or some crime."

"Then our city leaders and other good-deeders

Decided we must plan ahead;

Survivalists all answered the call,

And that’s the last I saw of my dad.

You see, Harry my boy, your great-grandfather was high

On the list of importance just then;

A scientist rare and design engineer,

A walking brain and a man among men."

"He built helter-skelter a new type bomb shelter,

A city under a dome,

That helped us survive, we’re still alive

In this hell hole we have to call home.

I was just a baby, but since then I’ve thought maybe,

Better to have been left to our fate;

It’s highly over-rated to be incarcerated

In a compound without a gate."

"So, the dome was born predicting a storm

Of war and pestilence.

But open each day in a comfortable way,

Then closed for our final defense.

Because then one day somewhere far away And it probably was over nothin’

Someone started to fight and sometime in the night

Some devil or fool pushed a button."

"The glare in the sky and turbulence on high

Was visible everywhere.

No point in running, they knew what was coming,

They just huddled down in their fear.

But for everything needed, my dad had succeeded,

The city was now a closed system.

A unique little nation for a limited population,

Created by his supreme wisdom."

"When a few years went by there was again light up on high;

We had lived through a nuclear winter.

So, at a steady pace had won our maiden race,

We came through like a thoroughbred sprinter. Then wanting to decide about the outside,

They drew straws for a volunteer sender;

Dressed in his gear he ventured out there

And reported, it’s burnt to a cinder."

"Anyway, outside didn’t matter since amid the chatter

Of static on each type of radio

No voices were heard so it seemed quite absurd

Why anyone had wanted to go.

And there were no strange entries, we sure didn’t need sentries

It’s was unlikely that anyone would arrive,

So we didn’t have to share with anyone from out there,

There was nobody else left alive."

"Our systems were fine, built to last for all time,

And on a Level that’s further below

There’s a domesticated zoo and greenhouses too

And food processing fit for a show.

By-products from leather to a fluffy goose feather

For anything we wanted to do.

But lately it seems, we just have our dreams,

Everything else seems just for the few."

"As I grew up back then we weren’t in a pen,

We went around happy and free.

We went up and down and all around town

And experienced all we could see.

Then suddenly one day in the usual way

I realized I now was a woman,

Making up schemes to manipulate dreams

Of men, well, I was just human."

"Then shortly thereafter amid fun and laughter

I met up with a man of great action.

We fooled about and without any doubt

We had a strong mutual attraction.

Before very long your mother came along

And a wonderful two became a beautiful three.

Then the very next day that man went away

And left only my baby and me."

To Harry she seemed to be now in a dream,

She nodded and looked far away,

Said, "My soul mate is the man that I hate,

But I’ll love him ’til my dying day."

Then down her left cheek a tear started to creep,

But she quickly wiped it away.

"It’s OK son, in more ways than one, I’m almost done,

Just a little more and you’re on your way."

"As your mother grew my contentment did too

With encouragement and help from my friends.

We were given this space as our own special place

As then was one of the trends.

We didn’t enquire what existed up higher

Or why the dome was always closed

Or wonder why we weren’t allowed to see the sky,

Conditioned and apathetic, I suppose."

But in the richest of nations creeps in segregations

Based naturally on level of wealth.

Your circles of friends are the means to your ends,

You maintain them by truth or by stealth.

So the rich and their cronies, politicians and phonies

Built their mansion homes nearest the sun.

And then we were stopped being allowed to the top,

Simply known now as Level One."

"And we never knew what is on Level Two.

We were told it was not our concern;

Just be happy to be on Level Three

For to live and to work and to learn.

So the poor working bloke and the ordinary folk

Simply accepted their lot.

In apathetic defeat, and wanting to eat,

Were glad to receive what they got."

"But that bit you know, your mother and you

Work in the factories each day at your station,

Sewing and mending and reassembling

To get your rations each day for remuneration.

At the end of your shift it all ends up on the lift

To above for final inspection,

And according to those quacks, if something it lacks,

It comes back to put your pay in suspension."

"I don’t know what decided that our media subsided; No signals, I guess through the dome.

But nobody cares after a couple of years,

We just blamed the effects on the bomb.

Then when you were small they left nothing at all;

All technical items were confiscated,

Said the parts could be used instead of abused,

And to our security would be dedicated."

"So like common looters, they took our computers

And everything mobile or stable;

Telephones, calculators, processors, percolators,

And everything else with a cable.

Toasters and toys, so when you were a boy

You had neither a ball nor a bat,

And not even a stick, except for your dick,

And I’m surprised they didn’t want that."

"I think our democracy became an autocracy,

We’re controlled now by sociopaths.

And some more dogmatists have turned into fascists

And acting like total psychopaths.

Under the guise of euthenics they delve into eugenics,

And the latest, artificial population control.

So, I’m supposin’ any accident unchosen

Will end up in some casserole."

"Don’t look so puzzled, I’ll not be muzzled

By fear, and as long as I’m able

I’ll have my sources of rumor resources

Whispered quietly under the table.

A dropped word here, another one there,

We put two and two together,

And even if unsound, we pass it around

As deftly as a flea on a feather."

"Now I definitely surmise by the light in your eyes

You have your great-grandfathers brains.

I can see in your face that your heart’s in the right place, You just can’t carry those heavy mental chains;

And when in school you weren’t any fool, Always at the top of your class,

And each old magazine or book you could glean

You studied it