- Harry AnderS -
Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer

'Born to be a King'
- by Harry AnderS -

An inspirational fantasy



    A retired psychotherapist meets a severely burnt little Gypsy boy, and takes him into his house.
The boy turns out to be the Heir to the Throne.

This emotional rollercoaster hints at past lives, spirit helpers, karma, the Power of Love, and contains several practical psychological concepts.
The story is written by a retired Dutch psychotherapist, living in The Netherlands, and specialized in supporting troubled children.


Chapter 9 ended with:

    "Oh... well... sorry we woke you up!"

    "No need for sorry. I enjoyed the show. But, did you and Dad..."

    "That's none of your business. Dad explained a couple of private things to me. Did I really make a noise like an elephant with Thomas?"

    "Of course not, silly. I'm only teasing you."

    "Oh... You're such a dork!"

    "Next time, I want to join the fun!"

    I listened to their conversation, red-faced and trying to keep my eyes on the road...
Again, I was amazed by how easily both boys were talking about those things, that often are so difficult to discuss between grown-ups.
'Be like a child', the Bible tries to tell us in its Wisdom, and perhaps the Bible is right!
Life seems to be so much easier, when you are not restricted by conventions and all sorts of crazy beliefs...


Chapter 10. Little Harry gets his mask, and misses all the special attention.

    We entered the town in no time, and I parked our car in the same space as before.
Little Harry immediately jumped out of the car, and headed for Peter's shop.
He opened the door and looked around, but the store seemed to be empty...
The disappointment was dripping from his face, and he nearly started to cry.
    Then, a familiar voice sounded from the workroom in the back of the store:

    "Just a minute, please. Have a seat, and I'll be right there!"

    All at once, the sun returned into little Harry's eyes, and he started to smile again.
We sat down and waited patiently, while little Harry crawled onto my lap.
    Two minutes later, Peter entered the shop, on the way drying his hands with a towel:

    "Hello, my friends, it's nice to see you again. Sorry you had to wait."

    He threw the towel somewhere into a corner, where it found its place on a chair.
He walked to another corner, took a key out of his pocket, and opened a cabinet.
He took a greenish model from a shelf, and carefully placed it onto the table in front of us.
In amazement, we looked at a copy of little Harry's head, without any hair, its face covered with a flesh-colored substance with openings for the mouth and eyes...

    Little Harry carefully touched the model, and chuckled:

    "Is that me? I'm REALLY looking like a green alien!"

    He felt the soft rubbery substance that covered the greenish model:

    "This is creepy! It's as if I'm touching a real face..."

     Now all of us felt the softness of the plastic mask, that would cover little Harry's face.
It actually felt like normal flesh, and the mask seemed to live when you pushed your finger into it.

    Peter demonstrated little Harry how he had to remove the mask from the model without tearing it.
He took a brownish bottle from a shelf, and opened it.
Its cap held a brush, and Peter showed little Harry how to paint the inside of his mask with the sticky rubbery substance from the bottle.
They went to a large mirror, and Peter showed little Harry how to put the mask onto his face...

    At first, little Harry was a bit giggly; but then he seriously looked at himself in the mirror, and indicated something about the nose.
Peter got his equipment from a drawer, and made a few adjustments.
Again, little Harry put the mask onto his face. This time, the lips didn't fit well, and again Peter made a small modification.
At last, both Peter and little Harry were satisfied with the result.
Little Harry slowly turned around...

    We were stunned!
Suddenly, we looked at a normal eight-year-old boy, with a broad smile, a cheerful pug nose, slightly stuffed cheeks, and full lips.
It was a miracle! Nobody would recognize the freaky alien little Harry had been before...
Peter had done a marvelous job!

    Peter had tears in his eyes, and told little Harry:

    "Be careful not to wear your mask for too long, because after a while the inside will be rather sweaty and itchy. Four hours will be the absolute maximum. After that time, there's a risk that your skin will become swollen and inflamed. If that ever is the case, don't hesitate to visit your family doctor and ask him for some ointment.
    "You will have to clean your mask carefully with water and soap, every time after you've been using it, and please keep it on the model when it's not in use.
    "This mask will last for about three months, because you are a young boy and still growing fast. After three months, you will have to come back to get a new mask."

    Little Harry threw himself at Peter, and nearly suffocated him:

    "Thank you, Peter, thank you very much! Now I can attend a normal school, just like John!"

    He went to me, and threw his arms around my waist:

    "Thank you, Dad, for letting me have my mask. You are the best Dad in the world!"

    He kissed my cheek... and froze, with an stunned look on his face:

   "I can't FEEL you any more, Dad... It's as if my lips are gone..."

    He looked at us with desperation in his eyes...

    "You can't feel your father's face, because the mask also fits around your lips," Peter patiently explained,
    "Your lips are still there, but now they are hidden behind the plastic."

    Little Harry looked confused, went to the mirror, and carefully studied his new face:

    "Of course, now I can see why it is... That wasn't a clever reaction... sorry."

    He climbed onto my lap, and looked a bit ashamed.

    "You will have to get used to your new mask," Peter further explained.
    "Within a few days, your mask will feel more natural, and you will learn to allow for its restrictions."

    Little Harry nodded, still looking a bit confused.

    "Sir, may I ask you a private question?" Peter asked me, a bit hesitantly...

    "Err... yes, of course you may. What do you have in mind?"

    "Yesterday, I took the liberty to talk about your son to a friend, who is living near a clinic that specializes in severe burns. During the last two years, this clinic has achieved astonishing results with skin cultures and transplantations. However, they are very expensive..."

    Suddenly, I understood why Jack had told me: 'Spend everything you have on him...'
Two days ago, Christian had told little Harry: ' Within two days, your question about your burnt face will be answered..."
Now I was sure about what I had to do for my little soul mate!
    I started to smile, feeling happy, and told Peter:

    "Thank you, Peter, for caring so much about my son. Do you know the address of that clinic? I will be happy to contact them; and, of course, I will let you know about the results!"

    Peter smiled happily too, and handed me a business card that had the address of the clinic already written on it.
I put the card away in my wallet, and paid Peter for the marvelous work he had done with little Harry's mask.
Peter packed the greenish model and two brown bottles into a cardboard box, and handed the package to little Harry.
John offered to help him carry the heavy box, but little Harry politely refused...
This was HIS model, and he wanted to carry it himself!

    Everyone hugged everybody, and little Harry even kissed Peter.
After another goodbye and thank-you, we went to our car.
Little Harry dragged his heavy cardboard box across the sidewalk, and reluctantly allowed me to help him put it into the trunk.
Now we drove off; and headed for a big mall, to look for a nice computer desk...

    John couldn't keep his eyes off his little brother, who looked out of the windows with beaming eyes.
He smiled all the time, and tried to wave at every living soul he saw.
    Now and then, people waved back at him; and little Harry proudly beamed:

    "Did you see that? That woman saw me, and she waved at me!"

   I parked our car in a big parking lot, and little Harry jumped out of the car and proudly looked around...
Nobody paid him any attention, nobody pointed at him, and nobody laughed at him or called him a freak.
All they saw, was a normal eight-year-old boy with a slightly stuffed face and a cute pug nose, smiling at everybody...

    We entered the mall, and asked a security officer for computer desks.
Even the officer didn't pay any attention to that smiling little boy, that desperately tried to get his attention.
Now, little Harry seemed to feel a bit lonesome, as if he missed all the shocked looks he was so used to...

    We went upstairs and headed for the furniture department, with little Harry leading the way.
He looked at every person we passed, and tried to make eye contact, but nobody reacted...
Except one man, who veered up as if he saw a prey, and invitingly brought his hand to his crotch.
John immediately stepped forward and balled his fists, but little Harry put his new pug nose high into the air and totally ignored the man.
John relaxed, and stepped back with a look of relief on his face.
His behavior made me chuckle, and at the same time feel proud. John certainly cared for his little brother!

    Little Harry gave up, and just sauntered to the computer desks, where he started to look each desk over.
John pulled at my arm, with a look of bewilderment on his face.
    He pointed at his little brother, who carefully studied a nice looking desk:

    "Why is Harry so sad all of a sudden? Isn't he happy with his new mask?"

    "Well... I think he is missing all the special attention. He was so used to everybody looking at him and making remarks... Suddenly, nobody seems to see him."

    "That's weird! Two long years he waited for this moment, and now he isn't even happy?"

    John shook his head in disbelief, and joined his little brother.

    Little Harry looked every desk over, and carefully deliberated before he made his choice.
Finally, he pointed to a nice looking dark wooden desk, not too big, with a lot of drawers and little doors; and, of course, a sliding keyboard shelf in the middle:

    "This one, Dad! This is the desk I want to have."

    The sales clerk handed us a receipt for the stockroom, where we could collect the unassembled desk in three separate packages.
We went downstairs, headed for the stockroom, and handed them the receipt.
I paid them with my credit card, and we received three enormous packages...
Fortunately, they had a cart, to help us carry our heavy packages to the parking lot.
The packages turned out to be too big to fit in the trunk of our small car...
What should we do now?

    John had the solution. He fetched a couple of ropes from the stockroom...
Together, we lifted the packages onto the roof of our car, and carefully tied them.
Little Harry brought the cart back, and we waited until he returned...
    Suddenly, I had an excellent idea, and asked John:

    "I think you will be living with us for at least a couple of weeks, so wouldn't it be nice for you to have your own desk in your own room?"

    John looked at me with so much love in his eyes that I nearly drowned in them...
After a moment, he turned towards little Harry:

    "What do you think, Harry? Maybe I will only be living with you and Dad for a few days..."

    "I think you are just afraid that I will be jealous, because you are getting a present too... but I have already gotten my mask as a present, remember? I think Dad has an excellent idea! Of course you will need your own desk, because you are going to live with us for more than a few days."

    "How can you be so sure?"

    "I just know, and you will see that I'm right..."

    "I really hope you ARE right! Well... okay, Dad; this time, I will resign to your pressure, and humbly oblige..."

    I laughed at his dignified use of words and ruffled his hair, loving my so dear friend more and more.
We returned to the mall, and again went upstairs to the desks department.
Again, John and little Harry looked at the various desks, carefully deliberating all pros and cons.
Finally, John decided to choose the same nice looking dark wooden desk.
    He looked at little Harry with pride in his eyes:

    "Wow, little brother, you are having a very good eye for details! Thank you for your valuable help and advice."

    Little Harry beamed.
The two brothers put their arms around each other, and walked shoulder to shoulder to the stockroom.
Again, we carried three heavy packages on a cart to our car.
We untied the ropes, added the new packages, and carefully tied all six packages together.
Little Harry brought the cart back; and we drove home, singing along with the music of our car stereo.

    On our way home, the boys noticed a small drive-in restaurant, and we decided to stop for a rest and a drink.
We entered the restaurant, and looked around for a free table.
Again, nobody paid any attention to little Harry, who tried to smile at every living soul he saw...

    We went to a free table in front of the restaurant, and ordered coffee and colas.
Little Harry looked around, and started to wave at everybody who happened to look into our direction...
Again, nobody reacted, and now he started to mope...
    Until John shook his head, forcefully poked little Harry's ribs, and hissed:

    "Do you really NEED all the attention? Why don't you peel your mask off, and let them look at your real face again? Now stop being so unthankful. You are making me angry!"

    Little Harry looked at his big brother with a shocked face...
He tried to answer, but choked up...
He stared at the ground, wiggling his toes...
Slowly, he rose from his seat, and left the restaurant without looking back.

    John tried to follow his little brother, but I stopped him:

    "No, John, let him go and sort this out for himself. You were absolutely right, so don't feel guilty. I think he needs his personal space now, to get some more insight, and maybe even mature a little bit. He will come back when he's ready. Let's just keep an eye on him, as he is only eight years old, but from a distance. Okay?"

    John nodded, and we turned our chairs so that we were able to look outside effortlessly.
Little Harry crossed the terrace, and sat down at the edge of a small pond with his back against a tree.
He looked at the ducks for a long time, supporting his head with his hands.
Now and then, he kicked small pebbles to the ducks, who thought it could be food and tried to catch them.
Tears were dripping from his eyes onto his hands. He wiped them away with his shirt; and kicked the next pebble, careful not to hit the ducks.
Slowly, his posture changed. He sat more upright, and I could sense his increasing power.
Now I was sure I had done the right thing!

    Finally, he left the tree and sauntered back to the restaurant.
He returned to our table, and looked at John with tears in his eyes:

    "You were right, and you did exactly the right thing by kicking my ass! It may sound stupid, but I did miss all the special attention... Wow, you were looking straight through me!"

    He threw his arms around John, and buried his head into his brother's chest.
John cuddled him, oblivious to the rest of the restaurant, until I decided we had to go home.
Slowly, little Harry disentangled from John. He jumped up to me, trustfully letting me catch him, while he threw his arms around my neck.
I carried him to our car, after John paid the restaurant, fishing my wallet out of my back pocket.
I put my little soul mate down to be able to open our car, and he looked at me with his beautiful blue eyes:

    "Sorry, Dad, for being such a nuisance."

    "You were not a nuisance, but you were having an important insight. I am sure you have learnt something today, and will not make the same mistake again. You can be proud of yourself!"

    "Yeah?... Really?... Thank you, Dad; you are always making me feel better. I love you, and a lot more than I can tell you!"

    Little Harry was back on earth. We had our beaming boy back.
He even seemed to have grown a bit. He sat more upright in his seat, and he looked around with more pride and with less dependency.
    He took the front seat next to me, buckled up, and scanned the stereo for some nice background music...

    "Will you phone that new face clinic today, Dad?"

    "As soon as we are back home, son."

    "I hope they can help me to have my real face back... I am very happy with my mask, but now it's starting to itch, and it feels very sweaty inside. As soon as we are home, I'll take my mask off, scratch my face, and wash the itching away with buckets of water!"

    "What's about Harry's pending hospital appointment?" John thought aloud,
    "He has to go back there in a few days, to have his next surgery..."

    "Well, let's phone that clinic first, and listen to what they can offer us."

    Both little Harry and John slowly drifted off. I thought that the emotions of the day were taking their toll...
Now I started to yawn myself, and I had to use all my willpower to keep my eyes open and on the road...
What was happening to us? Did we eat or drink something wrong?
Suddenly I knew what was happening: Jack was trying to contact us, unintentionally making us drowsy...
    I chuckled, reached out mentally, and thought towards him:

    "Don't do that now, because I'm driving my car! I don't want to have an accident by falling asleep..."

    His answer came immediately, from within my head:

    "Sorry, I didn't realize you were busy. This stuff is fairly new to me, you know. I only wanted to thank you for caring for my boys, and I'm leaving you now."

    Both boys opened their eyes, and John yawned a couple of times:

    "Wow, Dad; suddenly, I couldn't keep my eyes open! Fortunately, now I'm feeling fit again."

    Little Harry looked a bit pensive, and hesitated:

    "I can feel Jack around, Dad, and he wants to apologize for making us sleepy; as he has done before while we were in your bed. He didn't realize you were driving a car, and he will be more careful the next time. He doesn't want me to end up in a hospital, other than for having my face repaired..."

    John looked surprised, and chuckled:

    "THAT was what I was feeling. It didn't feel like a normal sleep, but as if I was suddenly drunk or so. Thank you, Jack; but, please, couldn't you use another way to contact us?"

    We chuckled, and started to sing along with the music.
Soon, I turned our car into our driveway, and we were home.
    Little Harry desperately tried to scratch behind his mask:

    "It's really itching now! I will be happy to peel it off and wash my face."

    We left our car, and John grabbed the keys out of my hand and hurriedly opened the front door.
Little Harry rushed towards the kitchen, and impatiently tried to peel the mask from his face:

    "Will you help me, Dad? It's too sticky, and I am afraid I'll tear the edges."

    I helped him peel his mask off; and, with a sigh of relief, he put his head under the tap and turned the water on.

    "That feels better!" he murmured, spluttering and gasping, scratching his face everywhere, and splashing it with more water.

    He dried his face, filled a bowl with warm water and soap, and painstakingly cleaned his mask.
He took the greenish model out of the cardboard box, and carefully draped the mask on it, to keep it in shape.
    He went to the living room and put it on a corner of the dresser, in plain sight:

    "That's me, the freshly cleaned green alien."

    John looked at the mask, and chuckled:

    "That sounds like the title of a creepy film..."



Thank you for reading the next chapter of my emotional rollercoaster 'Born to be a King'.
Enjoy the reading, and help us make our world to be a better place!

Have a look at my OTHER story, about the same little Gypsy boy growing up in a secluded place in the Rumanian mountains; this time seen from his own point of view. You may click this link.
The other story is on Nifty in 'young-friends', and is callled: 'Born as a Prince'...

All my stories are on my own homepage as well: http://www.harryanders.com

I would LOVE to receive your comments.
Please, write me an email now and then...
Harry AnderS, Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer.