- Harry AnderS -
Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer

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

An inspirational fantasy

http://www.harryanders.com
harry@harryanders.com

    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 11 ended with:

We went back home to try to puzzle John's computer desk together.
Fortunately, we learned quite a lot from the first puzzle, and the second desk seemed easier to build...
Dead tired, but feeling happy, we showered and went to bed.

    I slept soundly and peacefully, lying on my back, having my two softly snoring boys in my arms.
One time, I woke up and saw the by now well-known bright light, seemingly coming from everywhere...
    Jack's face showed up, this time with a serious expression:

    "Don't be afraid. There will be a difficult time; but you will come through, and finally there will be victory!"

    Slowly, the light faded away, leaving me puzzled for a long time...
What did Jack mean by 'a difficult time'?

Chapter 12. Busted, Big Brother, accusations, and thinking about suicide.

    I woke up with the sound of the doorbell echoing in my ears and both boys stirring in my arms...
Little Harry yawned and stretched out, mumbling:

    "Wassup? I'm still sleepy..."

    John jumped out of bed and went to the window; muttering something that sounded like a curse...
He looked outside, and turned towards us with a surprised look on his face:

    "Dad, there's a police car in front of our house!"

    Again, the doorbell rang, somebody pounded the door, and we heard a couple of voices outside.
What was the problem? Was our house on fire, or had something horrible happened?
I jumped out of bed and dressed in a hurry, followed suit by two now very agitated boys.
Together, we rushed downstairs, and I opened our front door...

    Two police officers awaited us, looking impatient and ready to pound the door again.
On our driveway, two other officers had put their police car in front of our own car; obviously to prevent us from escaping...
    The officers at the door identified themselves by showing their identity cards:

    "We want to ask you a couple of questions. Please follow us to our car, and where is the third boy?"

    "What do you mean by a third boy? There isn't a third boy! What is the trouble, sir? Did we do something wrong?"

    "You will hear soon enough! Of course, we are allowed to go inside and inspect your house?"

    "Of course you can inspect our house! We have nothing to hide, but why would you want to do such a thing?"

    They didn't answer, but entered our house without looking back.
The other officers approached us and guided us to their police car.
They opened their backdoor invitingly and motioned us to get in...

    I entered their car with mixed feelings. What the heck was happening?
Both boys followed me, and we propped together onto the rear seat.
The officers closed the backdoor, entered the front seats, and drove off without saying a word.
John looked around with a furious expression on his face; ready to defend us with his life if necessary.
Little Harry slumped down onto the seat with his head in his hands, apparently feeling horrible. Did he remember the nasty witch-hunts, when he was a little Gypsy prince?
I didn't feel too well neither. Why did those officers ask us about a third boy? Did they mean Davey?

    The car drove to a police station and entered a yard through a heavy iron gate without stopping.
The gate closed with a squeaking sound, while the car parked at the back of a dull looking grayish building.
John tried to open the door, but it appeared to be locked from the outside...
Why did they lock us in as if we were criminals? What did they want from us?

    The officers opened the car door from the outside and motioned us to follow them.
They guided us to a heavy steel door, which magically opened on our approach.
We entered a passageway; and the steel door closed again, with a dull bang.
At the end of the passageway, we turned to the left and entered a hallway.
    One of the police officers opened a door with a small pane in the middle:

    "In here, sir."

    Little Harry tried to follow me, but the other officer stopped him:

    "You are going to another room."

    "DAD..." little Harry exclaimed; wide-eyed and trembling with fear...

    "It's okay, son; nothing will happen to you..." I tried to reassure him.

    The officer closed my door before I was able to say any more encouraging words, and I was alone.
Outside, I heard the echoing voice of little Harry, who panicked and started to scream; and the lower voice of John, who tried to calm him down.
Soon, another door shut with an echoing bang, and suddenly everything was dead silent...

    I looked around at a square room, containing a small table and four wooden chairs.
Through a barred window, I could see a small yard, surrounded by a heavy fence.
Everything was surrealistically silent. Even the birds seemed to avoid this place.
I slumped down onto one of the wooden chairs, and waited...

    What was happening? Why did they arrest me and my boys and bring us here?
Had Davey told the officers anything questionably about my boys or about me? What could he have told them? We had done nothing improper...
Maybe Thomas, or one of his parents, had told the police about John and himself comparing each other's things?
Wasn't that what every normal and healthy boy on the border of puberty used to do, as far as I knew...
Why should they arrest ME, for the first time in my life?
I didn't have the faintest idea...

    My head was in turmoil, and I started to have a headache.
I thought and thought, but nothing seemed to make any sense.
Why did they arrest us?
After a while, I tried to calm down and concentrate on my inner peace.
I didn't do anything wrong, and I had nothing to hide...
Time went by very slowly, and I started to think again...
Why did they separate me and my boys? Were they afraid I would instruct them about what they should tell them or what not?

    I waited and waited... and waited... and waited some more.
Nothing happened, and I started to feel very uncomfortable.
Did they forget me?
What if they really forgot me, and I wasted away slowly?
Would they eventually find my bare bones?

    After what felt like an eternity, the door suddenly opened and two police officers entered the room.
Both of them took a seat and stared at me:

    "May we offer you a cup of coffee first?"

    "Yes, please, with two sugars and no milk."

    One of the officers left the room, and returned carrying three plastic cups.
In silence, we drank our coffee, while both officers continued to stare at me.
Was that their tactic, to break down any resistance in advance?
    One of them opened the conversation, intently looking into my eyes:

    "Of course, you know why we've brought you here..."

    I stared back at him, trying to look as honestly as possible:

    "Sorry, sir, but I don't have the faintest idea. I have nothing to hide, and I'm sure I did nothing wrong. Why am I here? Where are my boys?"

    The other officer looked at me with piercing eyes, obviously trying to fish out whether I was sincere or not:

    "Both boys are okay now. They were questioned in another room by a trained interrogator.  Don't worry about them. They are in good hands...
    "Because you don't want to understand why you are here, we will fresh up your memory by telling you what happened.
    "A few days ago, we received an anonymous report, mentioning a newcomer living alone in a big house. He seemed to collect a lot of neighborhood children, and that's why we traced him down. You are divorced; and you are having two grown-up daughters, both living on their own, and no grandchildren. Am I correct so far?"

    "Yes sir. I am divorced, and I do have two daughters. However, I am certainly NOT collecting any children! What a stupid idea..."

    "We observed your house for a while, but didn't see anything suspicious. That is, until two days ago, when we received another anonymous report stating the man now hosted two neighborhood boys. They seemed to be living in his house and even spending the night in his bedroom...
    "This time, we consulted the public prosecutor; and he decided to keep a close eye on your ministrations until we were sure what was happening...
    "Yesterday, we got a phone call from a very disturbed lady, who saw a naked and crying young boy leave your house in a panic. This time, the prosecutor decided to start an investigation. That's why we brought you here. Who was that naked and crying young boy?"

    I was totally thunderstruck, gasped for breath, and started to tremble all over.
Who... what... For heaven's sake, what was happening?
An anonymous neighbor had been sending reports to the police about meeting my little soul mate and helping my dear friend?
A 'very disturbed' lady had called the police about that poor abused Davey, who left my house because he remembered his own beast of a father?
In what kind of a world were we living?
This wasn't Big Brother watching, this was the Whole Neighborhood peeking through my windows!
I started to be angry and involuntarily balled my fists...

    I forced myself to calm down, and pulled myself together.
Throwing a tantrum wasn't of any use here...
I HAD to try to answer the questions of those suspicious child-protectors in a reasonable way...

    "His first name is Davey, and he is a friend of my boys. He helped us carry a couple of packages, and joined my sweaty boys in the shower. He was scared when I showed up, because his own father used to abuse him every time he showered. That's why he panicked and ran away naked. He returned with his mother, and she told me that Davey's father is in prison for a long time without seeing his son. Davey is a very vulnerable and damaged boy, and I am happy to be able to help him discover how a normal grown-up can be..."

    "Yes, we are aware of who he is. His father abused him from a very young age. He is in prison now, and will not see his son for a long time...
    "Now back to you... This abused child is already the third vulnerable and damaged boy that is frequenting your house! The first one, a burnt Gypsy boy, is also a vulnerable and damaged child, who lost both parents and was in a hospital for a long time. Our information tells us that the second boy was recently abandoned by his own father, while his mother fled away to another town...
    "The prosecutor thinks that you are particularly attracted to young children who have been victimized or damaged, and he wants us to stop you from damaging them even more..."

    Again, both officers stared at me with piercing eyes, trying to read my mind.

    Again, I was thunderstruck, and balled my fists. How DARED they presume those stupid things about me and my boys...
What should I do now? What did those officers want from me?
Could I tell them that the late Jack, the former owner of my house, brought all three boys to me, to be their guide?
Could I tell them that little Harry and I already knew each other from our past lives, and that he once was my own son?
Would they understand that John once was our best friend; and that Davey needed a grown-up to help him cope with his abusive past?
Would they believe me? Or, would they immediately phone a madhouse and put me into a straitjacket...

    I decided to try to defend myself from their accusations:

    "What you are talking about, is total nonsense. I didn't do anything to lure my boys, or to force them into my house. They are visiting me at their own choice and absolutely voluntarily."

    "Now you are trying to blame those innocent children for having your strange interests in them? That's the world upside down. YOU are the grown-up! YOU should know better!"

    "WHAT should I know better, officer? I didn't do anything wrong. I only cheered my boys up and tried to help them..."

    "Well, for example, tonight two innocent children were sharing your bed, and both of them are complete strangers to you...
    "Yes, we found a lot of evidences, and we took a couple of pictures as proof for the prosecutor. We also did a quick search for child porn in your house and on your computer; but, so far, we didn't find anything criminal. As you can see, we are totally open with you; and, from now on, we expect you to be totally open with us as well..."

    Again, both of them stared at me with piercing eyes...

    "I AM totally open with you, and I am telling you the truth. I am a well-known psychotherapist, trained in helping victimized and abused children, and I can tell you I am a GOOD one.
    "Little Harry is severely burnt all over, and I am already having astonishing results regarding his behavior! I've even set an appointment with a transplant clinic, to try to restore his damaged face.
    "His brother, John, discovered that his so-called father, Eric, isn't his real father. His real father is Jack, the former owner of my house. I am helping him to cope with his feelings, and I am very glad that he and little Harry are together and that John is very protective about his little brother. They are supporting each other as being real brothers; and I am encouraging that, as it is helping both of them.
    "Davey helped us yesterday, carrying a couple of packages upstairs. I didn't know he was abused, until I had a look at what my boys were doing in the shower for such a long time, and he freaked out and ran away. He returned with his mother, who explained that Davey was severely abused by his own father...
    "Now, all of a sudden, we are arrested, and you even separated us. Why are we here? What did we do wrong? And, where are my boys? I want to see them NOW!"

    "Don't blame us, because we are only doing our work! Maybe you are really sincere and just doing your work as a psychotherapist... On the other hand, let's have a look at you from another point of view.
    "A total stranger enters our village and immediately connects with a whole bunch of children. A vulnerable child with a burnt face stays with him during a couple of nights; another vulnerable child that is left by his own father, also stays with him during the night; and a third child, that is raped by his own father, suddenly leaves his house in a panic and crying...
    "What would YOU think of such a stranger? This sort of behavior certainly doesn't look like, let's say, 'normal'. On top of this, there is plenty of evidence that at least two children were sleeping next to that stranger in his bed tonight; probably naked, because we found a couple of public hairs as well. How would YOU react?"

    Again, they observed me, their eyes piercing into mine...

    "I am telling you the truth, and only the truth. I am proud of everything I did. I have done nothing I should be ashamed of. I helped my boys with the consent of their parents; or, in the case of little Harry, his wardens. I have talked to all the parents. They do trust me, and they know I'm a retired psychotherapist. They consider me as a friend, and they are glad I'm willing to help their children!"

    "That might be true; but why did you, as a grown-up, let those boys sleep in your own bed, probably all of you naked? Is this a 'normal' behavior from a responsible grown-up?
    "Now, please, don't come up with the story that they wanted it themselves! You are the grown-up, and you are responsible for them and for their welfare as long as they are in your house. Besides, I am sure you KNOW that society doesn't exactly approve of strangers sleeping with little children in the same bed... Just read the newspaper stories!
    "Another question is: why are you calling those boys 'MY boys'? They are not your property. They are NOTHING to you. You aren't their father or their warden, and you are not running a hostel. You are just a stranger who seems to be attracted to vulnerable little boys; and you are trying to have them in your house and in your bed...
    "Fortunately, our society wants to protect innocent children from perverted men like you. This time, we couldn't prove you did anything improper with them; but, next time, you will be in prison for a very long time. As for us, we are going to make sure there will not be another time! You will have to get your rocks off on somebody who's your own age, and not on innocent little boys!
    "The prosecutor ordered us to hand the little Gypsy boy to a juvenile home, where he will get the proper guidance to overcome all the new troubles he got into.
    "The other boy will be sent to his mother; who, for the moment, is living in another town. We did already phone her...
    "About you, sir... From now on, we will keep a close eye on you! The very moment any child enters your house, we will arrest you, so be prepared. We will not give you another chance...
    "For now, you are free to go home, and we will show you to the exit."

    Both officers rose from their chairs; and, without another word, guided me to the front door.
The door closed with a vicious click, and I blinked my eyes in the bright sunlight...

    Suddenly, I was on my own in an unknown part of the village, and I didn't know my way home.
I wasn't even sure whether it was the same village where I was living, or not.
In the police car, I hadn't paid any attention to where they brought us...
I felt totally numb, and incapable of any thinking or feeling.
Everything was a blur.

    I started to walk blindly, hoping to stumble upon something familiar...
All the time, I had only one terrible feeling pounding through my chest: I had lost my little soul mate.
I would never see him again.
Nothing else mattered any more.
I moved my legs mechanically, without looking where I went, avoiding most trees and lampposts on autopilot.
I wanted to be DEAD...

    I walked for hours and hours; until the sun disappeared and dusk started to fall.
I didn't have the faintest idea about how long I had been walking, and my feet were sore and aching.
Eventually, I thought I recognized the surroundings, and headed for what I thought could be my quarter...
Ten minutes later, I heaved a deep sigh, opened my front door, and I was home!
I let myself fall down onto my couch in the living room, and kicked my shoes off to free my painful feet.

    Home was no longer feeling like 'home'...
Home was feeling more like a prison, a now very empty one.
What had happened to my boys?
Where was my little soul mate now?
What had they done to him?
Did they already put him in a juvenile home, to give him 'proper guidance'?
I started to cry and broke down.
The room started to turn around and everything went black...

    Slowly, my consciousness returned.
The room was dark, I had a pounding headache, every muscle in my body ached, and the world turned around and around.
After a moment, the turning stopped, but the realization returned...
Today I had lost everything that had been worth living for.
I had lost my little soul mate and my best friend...
My heart ached with a nearly unbearable pain.
From now on, I would be alone...

    I started to sob again, but that aggravated the headache.
I forced myself to suppress my emotions, and went to the kitchen to take a couple of aspirins and a glass of water.
Eagerly, I gulped the water down and splashed my face under the tap.
That made me think of little Harry, enthusiastically splashing his face after his mask started to itch...
    I even heard his so well known boyish voice, spluttering and gasping:

    "Nnnggg... That feels better!"

    I started to cry again.

    Still sobbing, I returned to the living room and looked around...
A couple of drawers were partially open, and their contents looked disordered.
The computer wasn't in its normal place, and several floppy disks were spread out onto my desk.
A couple of cardboard boxes were opened and their contents littered the floor...
Those officers seemed to have looked everywhere!

    Suddenly, I grew angry, and cursed:

    "This is MY house, dammit. This room is MY privacy, and nobody else has the right to nose into my private belongings! And those two boys are MY boys..."

    But, I have LOST them...
I will never see them again...
From now on, my life will be empty, with only the memories of my boys to live with...
I slumped down onto the couch; and, again, everything went black.
This time I welcomed the darkness.
I was losing my will to live...

    Slowly, my consciousness returned, with the vague memory of a bright light.
My headache was gone, and suddenly I realized I was hungry! I hadn't eaten for a whole day...
Fortunately, the dizziness seemed to have left me as well.
I went to the kitchen and buttered a few slices of toast.
All at once, the memories of little Harry, stirring the eggs and slicing his herbs, crossed my mind, and again I started to sob...
I forced myself to eat at least some toast and cheese, but it tasted like cardboard...
I brewed myself a cup of coffee, but it tasted like sewage. I threw it away and drank some water instead.

    The remainder of the evening passed in a blur.
Many times, I thought I heard my boys, chatting, teasing each other, playing games on the computer; and my heart jumped up in my chest.
Unfortunately, that was only my memory, playing dirty tricks with my mind...
From now on, I would never again hear their happy voices.
They were gone forever...

    I looked at a greenish model with a flesh-colored face, standing on a corner of my dresser, proudly looking into the room.
Little Harry's mask...
Again, I slumped down and cried my heart out.
How would my little soul mate cope in a juvenile home without his mask to hide the scars?

    I went upstairs, but even the shower reminded me of my boys.
The stall was littered with plastic cups and paperclips.
A couple of wet towels were littering the floor.
Wherever I looked, I saw pieces of clothing, used toothpaste, and colored tooth brushes...

    I looked at our waterbed, and could clearly see the three imprints where my boys and I had slept together.
In an outburst of despair, I smoothed our sheets.
It felt like wiping out all the beautiful memories of my boys and me.
From now on, I would be really alone...

    I crawled under the sheets and tried to have some sleep.
Now and then, I heard the telephone, ringing from the living room...
Who would try to call me at this impossible hour of the night?
Of course, that had to be some nasty assurance company, trying to sell me something I didn't need at all...
I pushed my face in between the cushions, trying to block my ears.
Slowly, I drifted off into a restless sleep full of dark nightmares.

    The next morning, I woke up with the bright sun shining through a crack in the curtains.
I expected to see two beautiful deep blue eyes peering into mine; and to hear a cheerful boyish voice teasing me:

    "I thought you would never wake up, silly!"

    Nobody looked into my eyes, and the silence was deafening...

    I started to sob again, feeling my loneliness trying to crash me.
Where was that ghost, Jack, now that his help was so desperately needed?
Had everything been a fake, a product of my imagination? Didn't Jack's ghost exist in reality?
Was everything I remembered about our past lives one big illusion, no more than a wishful dream?
Dead was dead, and ghosts and spirit guides were only fairy tales...
I had been stupid to believe in them!

    Again, that haunting telephone downstairs started to ring...
Dammit! Why didn't they leave me alone?
I didn't need their mortgages or subscriptions.
From now on, I needed only one thing: I desperately needed my boys...

    I pulled myself together, took a hot shower, and dressed.
I sauntered downstairs, slowly, having painful feet and aching muscles.
In the kitchen, I forced myself to eat at least some toast, trying not to think of little Harry...
I went to the living room and slumped down onto my couch.
From now on, this would be my only sanctuary.
Where else could I go?

    I tried to block out all my emotions and think only about my future...
What was I going to do now?
Was I going to sit down on this couch for the rest of my life?
What else could I do?
I thought and thought, but all I could think about concentrated on only one thing: I wanted my boys back!
However, the very moment the police saw any child in my house, they would immediately arrest me and put me in jail...

    Again, that damned telephone started to ring!
Why didn't they leave me alone?
    I glared at the irritating thing and cursed loudly until it stopped:

    "Shut up with your daily newspapers! I don't need your mortgages or sales promotions. I don't need anything any more. I am going to end my life. This time it has been enough. My life is over; and I am NOT going to sit on the porch of my house for the rest of my life in total solitude and desperately longing for my boys. I am out of here..."

    How should I end my life?
Throw myself under a train?
Jump off a flat?
Eat some deadly pills?
Slash my wrists?
Hang myself?
It had to be fast and painless, because I was a coward...

    Where was that ghost, Jack?

    "Jack, where are you? JACK.......... JAAAAACK.........."

    Nobody answered.
I tried to force myself into his white light, but nothing happened...
Of course, I was too scared to kill myself.
Chicken...

    AGAIN, that damned telephone started to ring...
This time, I was going to smash it against a wall!
Leave me alone, dammit, all of you!
I don't want to talk with ANYBODY, anymore, never ever again!

    I went to my desk, furiously, and snatched the receiver from its cradle.
I threw my arm backwards, ready to release all my anger and frustration onto that nasty thing!
    Suddenly, I heard the panicking voice of Jack in my head, desperately shouting:

    "Stop it! Don't do that! Please, you HAVE to listen first..."

    I didn't believe myself any more.
Again, I was making up that stupid voice of that non-existing ghost Jack in my head...
I had to call for a shrink, to put me under medication for my hallucinations!
What a coincidence that I used to be a shrink myself...

    Anyway, I brought the receiver to my ear, reluctantly:

    "Hello..." I snarled into the damned thing, ready to smash it against the wall in case it turned out to be some overly enthusiastic sales representative...

************************************************************************************************************

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.

harry@harryanders.com
http://www.harryanders.com