- Harry AnderS -
Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer

'Born to be a King 1'
Book 1 - My little Gypsy Prince
- 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. Many more stories will follow!


Chapter 17 ended with:

    He grinned a bit sheepishly, and asked me:

    "Are we now going to my face doctors?"

    "Face doctors? What do you mean? Oh... of course, now I understand. You mean the transplant surgeons. Yes, we will be on our way within half an hour."

    Davey went home; having quite a story to tell.
He promised to be back after our visit to the clinic, to find out what the 'face doctors' had told little Harry.
We packed everything we needed, and brought it to our car.
    John grinned, and looked at me with a naughty smile:

    "Don't you forget your keys this time?"

    "Don't you try to be too witty every time?"

    I chuckled, ruffled his hair, and we went to our car and buckled up.
I started the engine, and we left our driveway and drove off.
We were on our way to little Harry's transplant clinic...


Chapter 18. Visiting little Harry's face doctors, and a new friend shows up.

    I scanned our car stereo for some nice background music; and, again, there was our crazy song!

    "You are soooo beauuuutifuuuullll..."

    All of us started to sing along with the music, clapping our hands and stamping our feet.
Soon, the deafening sound was raising the roof, and our old car nearly started to swing...

    However, after some time, the boys in the rear seat slowly became more and more silent.
I looked over my shoulder, and smiled at the heart-warming sight.
Both boys had stretched out over the full width of our car. They were drifting off into a sound sleep, closely entangled into each other...
I smiled understandingly and switched the car stereo off.
Of course, they were still sleepy; and we had another two hours of driving ahead...

    The boys woke up with the noise of heavy traffic and the starting and stopping of the car at the traffic lights.
Soon, we stopped somewhere, and asked a nice police officer to direct us to the clinic. Yes, some officers are nice...
Suddenly, we saw it; being a modern brick building, situated at the edge of a spacious park.
We parked our car in an empty parking lot, and entered the sliding doors with a feeling of anticipation...
Immediately, we were welcomed by soft music and a faint antiseptic smell.
Little Harry shivered, and unnoticed wormed his small hand into mine.
Obviously, he remembered his past operations...

    We went to the reception, and the receptionist told us to wait for our surgeon on a leather bench along the wall.
Little Harry crawled onto my lap, while John studied some medical magazine from a small table.
After two minutes, a tall man in his fifties, with an open face and a pleasant voice, greeted us.
    He turned directly towards little Harry, and smiled:

    "You are Harry Romani, I suppose? And you brought your father and your brother? Please, follow me to my office..."

    We followed him, entered a cozy-looking consulting room, and all of us took a seat.
First, we had some small talk about our voyage; and then, the 'face doctor' started to question little Harry.
He had contacted the old hospital, and they had sent him a lot of information about little Harry's past operations, plus a series of photographs.
The doctor showed the photographs to little Harry, and asked him a couple of questions about what they had done in detail.
Soon, John and I were surprised by the maturity and intelligence of little Harry' answers.
He responded to all the questions with precise and detailed information without any hesitation...

    The surgeon scribbled down some information, and eventually put his papers away:

    "Thank you, my friend; you were a great help with your clear answers. Now, would you allow me to have a closer look at your scars? Do you mind your father or your brother to be present in the room while I am examining you, as you will have to shuck all your clothes and be completely naked?"

    "Nah, all of us are used to seeing each other naked, so that's no big deal. Dad, will you help me to peel my mask off?"

    I helped him with his mask, and the surgeon looked surprised:

    "That's a beautiful mask! I think this might be a good idea for some of our other patients as well. Do you know who made it?"

    "A nice man, called Peter. First, he made a mold of my face, and then he fit the mask onto the mold... Dad, do you have his address?"

    I told the doctor Peter's address, and he was delighted. He would call Peter immediately after our visit, and greet him from us as well.

    Little Harry undressed without any hesitancy, and put his clothes neatly onto a chair.
He turned around; and performed a deep bow towards the surgeon, with a naughty grin on his face.
The surgeon grinned, bowed back, and started to examine his so devastated body thoroughly, from top to toe.
    After a while, he scribbled another couple of notes onto his papers; and nodded:

    "I am sure we can do quite a lot to make you more presentable; and, even more important, to nicely restore your face. Fortunately, most of the important muscles are intact, and the nerves are still working. Do you want to be circumcised, or shall we try to restore the burnt skin around your penis?"

    "I want to be exactly like Dad and John, with a foreskin that covers everything. And, please, don't you forget to put a hole in it?"

    "Put a hole in it? I don't understand... Please, could you tell me some more about what you want me to do?"

    "Well... You see, sometimes I have to pee, and that will be rather difficult without a hole in the end of my foreskin..."

    The surgeon bellowed with laughter, ruffled little Harry's hair, and promised to create a nice opening in the skin around his little pecker.

    Little Harry and the 'face doctor' went to a computer with a big monitor screen, and sat down together.
Little Harry had to push the 'on' switch, and the screen started to live and showed the outlines of a face.
Soon, the face doctor and he were looking at many possible combinations of noses and lips, all of them shaped differently.
Little Harry controlled the mouse like a professional, and enthusiastically created face after face...
Finally, he chose a cheerful pug nose and not too thick lips that would nicely accentuate the shape of his face.
The surgeon told him he had made an excellent choice, and let him switch off the computer and the monitor.

    Now, we were allowed to ask any questions we might have concerning the pending operations and little Harry's healing.
The surgeon answered all of them carefully and patiently, until everything was clear to all of us and we were satisfied.
Little Harry's burnings looked very bad; but in fact they were not, because the fire did not damage the underlying muscles.
Fortunately, the flames had been extinguished extremely fast, so that only his outer skin had been burnt away.
Most of his nerves had survived the fire, so that he would have a normal feeling in his new skin. He would be able to feel touch, warmth, cold, and pain.
Compared to lots of other burnt victims, he could consider himself a very lucky boy!
    We were very happy to hear this; and little Harry beamed:

    "That's because Jack immediately rolled me around in the wet grass..."

    A nurse entered the room, and offered little Harry a bright blue gown.
With a proud face, he put it on, suddenly looking like sort of a Foreign Prince...
Many people were busy around our little Prince for a long time, making several X-rays, CT-scans, and pictures of his face and body.
A nurse drew some blood from a vein in his arm, and he had to pee in a cup for the laboratory.
Little Harry underwent everything like a professional.
Obviously, he had a lot of experience with the preparation from his past operations...

    When finally everything had been tested and retested, a nurse took us back to the consulting room and to our 'face doctor'.
Little Harry nestled onto my lap, still clad in his blue gown, and John sat down next to us on another chair.
The surgeon told us that he was very content; and, so far, all the tests had turned out to be positive.
Now, he wanted to discuss what he intended to do...
Today, he would like to peel several thin slices of skin from the insides of little Harry's thighs, where nobody would be able to see the marks.
The wounds would heal within a few days, and they would look like slightly scratched surfaces.
During the next three weeks, he would stretch and cultivate little Harry's peeled skin, to increase its quantity.

    After three weeks, he wanted to have little Harry in the clinic for his major surgery.
He would strip all of the nasty scars and wild flesh, smooth everything with small pieces of muscle, and apply the cultivated skin to all burnt places.
He would rebuild little Harry's nose from a piece of stripped skin, and reconstruct his lips and little pecker.
After the surgery, little Harry would be kept asleep for about a week, to keep him immobilized and allow his body to heal sufficiently before he woke up.
Once awake, the surgeon would like to have him in the clinic for another two weeks, to monitor the healing process.
Of course, every operation implied some risks, but he was convinced that this would work out for the best, as little Harry was both young and in perfect health!

    Little Harry jumped off my lap, and enthusiastically embraced the face doctor:

    "When can we start? I want to have a normal face when I'm joining the others for school!"

    "I would like to peel some skin from the insides of your thighs today. The nurse will put you to sleep for a couple of minutes, so you will not feel anything. After the peeling, we will put an analgesic spray onto the scratches, and you will have to keep the insides of your thighs dry for about two days. Is that okay with you?"

    "Yes, of course that's okay with me. Let's start!" little Harry exclaimed.

    The surgeon smiled, called a nurse, and instructed her to prepare for the peeling.
Five minutes later, we followed him to the operating room.
Little Harry had to enter a shower and was scrubbed all over his body thoroughly.
He climbed onto a stretcher with some help from the nurse.
    She handed him a small mask, attached to a nitrous oxide container:

    "I think that you already know what you have to do next?"

    Little Harry nodded, stretched out, and covered his nose and mouth with the mask.
Without any fear, he started to inhale the sleeping gas, looking at us with beaming eyes.
A moment later, his eyes slowly closed, his body relaxed, and he was asleep.
We left the operating room, to wait outside for our brave little friend to wake up...

    The receptionist pointed us to a small cafeteria, where I ordered a cup of coffee and John took a glass of cola.
In silence, we waited for the surgeon to be ready with the peeling.
Now and then, we looked into each other's eyes and smiled.
Both of us felt our love radiating towards each other and towards our little friend.
We sincerely hoped he would have a normal face after his skin transplant...

    Fifteen minutes later, the nurse called us back into the consulting room.
Little Harry smiled at us from a gurney, looking a bit groggy...
    He showed us a couple of red stripes along the insides of his thighs, covered with a dry and silky film:

    "I didn't feel anything; and Jack cuddled me all the time until I woke up. Now it's starting to itch, but I'm not allowed to scratch..."

    The nurse offered him a glass of water and a small pill, and he swallowed the pill and gulped the water eagerly.
Still looking drowsy, he got off the gurney and wavered towards me.
I lifted him onto my lap; and, with a broad smile, he settled down and closed his eyes.

    "I am hungry," he yawned, nearly falling asleep.

    The doctor smiled, and ruffled his hair:

    "Within ten minutes, he will be his joyful self again. You're having a wonderful son, and I think this boy will achieve extraordinary things in his life!"

    We set a new appointment for little Harry's major surgery, three weeks from now.
John and I dressed him, working together; while he wavered around and still felt a bit drowsy.
I lifted him onto my shoulders, and his small hands clamped around my forehead.
Together and giggling, we went back to the small cafeteria, to eat something before we went home.

    Within a few minutes, little Harry started to laugh and joke again.
Both John and he wolfed down a lot of delicious junk food, being healthy and growing boys...
I nibbled at a meat sandwich, and sipped my coffee.
    Suddenly, little Harry felt his thighs, trying to remove his trousers from the wounds:

    "The itching is worse now, and it feels like it wants to stick to the fabric..."

    We took him to a small bathroom to have a look; but didn't see any visible blood, and nothing was sticky...

    "I think it's only the unusual feeling. When we are home, we will have another look."

    After another cup of coffee for me and colas for the boys, we greeted the receptionist and went home.
Little Harry led the way to our car, walking like a rodeo rider with his legs wide apart, but proudly carrying the keys.
He opened the doors and got in, carefully, plucking at the insides of his trousers...
All of us had to laugh at the funny sight, even little Harry himself.
We drove off, switched our car stereo on, and started to sing along with the cheerful music.
Our crazy song didn't pop up this time...

    After a couple of minutes, both boys slowly went silent.
They stretched out along the backseat, and wrapped up into each other's arms.
Within a minute, both of them were sound asleep and softly snoring.
I grinned inwardly, and lowered the stereo volume...


    Two hours later, I parked our car in our driveway and turned the engine off.
The sudden silence woke the boys, and they looked around with sleepy eyes...

    "Are we at home now? What time is it?"

    "It's nearly four o'clock; and yes, we are at home."

    We left our car; and little Harry opened our front door, again proudly carrying the keys.
He raced to the kitchen and gulped a lot of water.
At the same time, John went to the toilet.
    Little Harry hurried back to the toilet and started to pound the door, jumping up and down:

    "John, hurry up! I'm peeing my pants!"

    "That's your own fault, after drinking all that water. Ask Dad to put diapers on you."

    Little Harry started to squeeze his boyhood, now frantically kicking the door:

    "You are mean! Let me in before it's too late!"

    John chuckled, flushed the toilet, and teasingly slowly opened the door...
Little Harry nearly ran him down in his hurry to bless the ceramic god, already having his pants halfway down his knees.
He left the door open, and we heard him sigh with relief while he emptied his bladder...

    John went to the living room, to phone his mother and tell her about the clinic and little Harry's pending surgery.
Little Harry leaned against me, and threw his arms around my waist:

    "Dad, I want to go outside, to have a look at our neighborhood. Will you help me with my mask?"

    "Don't you wait for John?"

    "Why? Am I not allowed to go on my own?"

    "Of course you are allowed! However, I expect you to be back before dinner."

    "Okay, Dad, and I will help you with the cooking. I will be back in time, and I love you!"

    He offered me a quick kiss, shouted bye to John, and went outside.
My boy certainly had changed a lot since I first met him!
I went to the kitchen, and started to tidy up.
I rearranged the refrigerator, and made a list of the things that needed a refill.
I went upstairs, cleaned the bathroom, changed the bed sheets, and vacuumed the bedrooms, the hallway, and the stairs.

    The doorbell rang, and I hurried downstairs and opened the front door.
Little Harry looked up at me with beaming eyes, accompanied by a firmly built small boy of around his own age.
The boy had nearly white hair and bright greenish eyes in an open face, and I liked him at first sight.
He looked up at me with joy in his sparkling eyes, and smiled broadly.
    Little Harry pushed him inside, and offered me a quick kiss:

    "Hey, Dad. This is my new friend, Nicky, and we want to play a game on our computer because he hasn't got one himself."

    "Welcome into our humble house, new friend Nicky! A friend of my son is a friend of mine. Do you want a drink?"

    I ruffled his white hair; and, for a moment, he leaned into me, with his head resting onto my stomach.
This boy certainly wasn't shy or distrustful...
    Little Harry grabbed his hand, dragged him towards the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator:

    "Do you want Coke, orange juice, milk, hot chocolate, water with bubbles, or maybe water from the tap?"

    Nicky voted for hot chocolate; and little Harry took the milk to the kitchen table and climbed onto the sink to get a pan.
He brewed two cups of hot chocolate, both of them with two helpings of powder.
They went to the living room, sipping their drinks and walking shoulder to shoulder.
    Nicky looked around the room, and nodded approvingly:

    "It's nice here! Your house is much more cozy than ours, and your Dad is really neat..."

    I felt myself blush; and withdrew to my sanctuary, the couch...

    The two friends went to our computer, giggled, and joyfully wriggled their small bodies into the same chair.
Little Harry started a racing game, and tried to explain the rules to Nicky.
Nicky nodded enthusiastically, and seemed to pick up things very fast.
A moment later, they were lost into the game, and Nicky roared with laughter when a car broke down and collapsed into a fire...

    John let himself fall down onto the couch next to me, and stared at the newcomer with an angry face:

    "That's the little brother of that bastard who kicked Harry off his skateboard! What is he doing here? I don't like those people. His father is just as big a bastard as his son!"

    "But... John! Now think for a moment! Are you a bastard, because your father Eric might be one? Or, is Davey a bastard only because his father is such a bad person?"

    John looked surprised, and I could see him thinking...
After a moment, he shook his head and started to blush.
    He looked at the two friends, sitting squeezed together in the same chair and having lots of fun:

    "Sorry, Dad, and I think you are right. Davey is a good boy; and he can't help his father is such a beast... Nicky seems to be nice to Harry; and, of course, he can't help his father is such a bast... err... horrible person. I will have to learn to think first, before I'm opening my big mouth..."

    He leaned into me; and I kissed the top of his head.
I hoped he had learned a valuable lesson...

    "How is your mother doing, and your brother and sister?"

    "Mom was pleased to hear my voice, and she told me she missed me. Sometimes, I'm missing her too...
    "I told her everything about the zoo and the clinic, and she was glad she didn't accompany us while we missed Harry! She is happy to hear he is getting his new face so soon.
    "Eric tried again to get Mark and Marrie, but she convinced him to stop his efforts or she would sue him for abandoning us. Now, he leaves us alone, at least I hope so...
    "She invites us to visit her in the course of next week and have dinner with the family..."

    "Whooahhh..... GOTCHA!" Nicky suddenly shouted, throwing his arms into the air in triumph.

    We started to laugh, and little Harry poked his new friend in the ribs.
Of course, Nicky immediately poked him back...
Two seconds later, they were wrestling on the carpet, trying to pin each other down.
Little Harry started to tickle Nicky, and Nicky squirmed and desperately tried to escape from his torturer.
Our clever boy seemed to have found Nicky's weak spot, and easily won the wrestling match.
    In triumph, he pinned Nicky down, sitting on his chest:

    "Now say 'uncle'!"


    "Not aunt. 'Uncle'!"


    "Say 'uncle', or I will ask my Dad for help!"


    "Dad, Nicky won't say 'uncle'..."

    "Why should he? You did already say that for him, at least three times!"

    Little Harry looked perplexed, and forgot to hold onto Nicky...
At that moment, Nicky threw his hips high into the air and kicked little Harry off his chest.
They started to wrestle and tickle again, until Nicky suddenly blushed:

    "Sorry, but I think I've peed my pants..."

    "Ah, poor little baby, did you forget your diapers?" little Harry teased him, roaring with laughter.

    Nicky got up, showing a dark and dripping wet spot in the front of his blue jeans.
He started to tremble all over, and looked at me with sudden fear in his eyes...
    I smiled, winked at him, and pointed upstairs:

    "Harry, please, take your friend to the shower to wash up, and could you lend him a pair of your own trousers to wear?"

    Little Harry nodded, still laughing. He took Nicky's hand and dragged him upstairs.
We heard them enter the shower, again grinning and teasing each other.
    John chuckled, and asked me:

    "Dad, are you in for a racing game on the computer, while our toddlers are changing their diapers?"

    Of course, I was in for a racing game!
The next moment, John and I were wrestling for the best place in front of our computer.
Unfortunately, we didn't fit together into one chair...

    He slaughtered me!
Every time I thought I was winning, he pushed my car to the sideline and passed me, leaving me with a wrecked car...

    "I think I am too old for those games..."

    "Ah, poor old man! Shall I get you a pillow to sit more comfortably?"

    I acted mock indignant, and poked him in the ribs...
Two seconds later, we were wrestling on the carpet, trying to pin each other and tickling each other everywhere.
    This time, I won; and, in triumph, I pinned John to the floor:

    "Now say 'uncle'!"


    "Not aunt. Uncle!"


    "Say 'uncle', or I will ask Harry and Nicky for help!"

    "Look out, or I will pee my pants too. On purpose!"

    "Ah, poor little baby... Next time, I will buy you a whole packet of diapers!"

    Now, both of us were almost wetting our own pants with laughing...
We hurried to the toilet and relieved ourselves, trying to cross our streams without splashing too much.

    We left the toiled, looked at each other without words, tiptoed to the stairs, and listened...

    "What are they doing up there? They are too silent..." John whispered.

    We tiptoed upstairs, cautiously opened the shower door, and held our breaths...
Both Nicky and little Harry had stretched out under the splashing warm water stream.
They were lying shoulder to shoulder, with their legs entangled and their eyes closed.
Both of them were lazily playing with their small stiffies, showing blissful smiles on their faces...
They were a beautiful couple, and I motioned John to be silent.
John nodded, leaned into me, and smiled.

    After a while, little Harry lazily opened his eyes and looked at us...
Slowly, he got an enormous smile on his face:

    "Hi, Dad and John! How long have you been spying on us?"

    Nicky opened his eyes, and looked at who little Harry was talking to.
He saw me, went pale as a ghost, and bolted upright.
He stumbled over little Harry's legs, staring at me in sudden fear and desperation:

    "Please, don't hit Harry! We did nothing bad! We were just playing a game..."

    He looked around like a trapped animal, his eyes scanning from left to right, trying to escape the inevitable...
He tried to pass me, but I caught him into my arms and tried to calm him down.
    Desperately, he struggled to free himself:

    "Noooo.... Don't kick me! I did nothing bad! Please, let me go..."

    I didn't know what to do...
Here I was, holding onto an eight-year-old and struggling boy who seemed to be scared to death... and I loved him!
My whole heart went out to this frightened child, as if he were my own son...
    I reinforced my grip, and tried to send him my love:

    "Why are you afraid of me? I KNOW you did nothing wrong, and you are NOT in trouble! Now, calm down, and let me dry you..."

    His eyes pierced into mine; looking directly into my soul and trying to read my intentions.
Hesitantly, he relaxed a bit; and, slowly, he let himself melt into my arms, still trembling...
I took a chance, bent over, and kissed his forehead.
    Suddenly, he threw his small arms around my neck, and offered me a wet kiss:

    "I was afraid you would be angry with me and kick me off the stairs..."

    "I will NEVER do that, to anybody! I will never hit any child without at least a VERY good reason. And why do you think I would be angry with you?"

    "For being a homo..."



Thank you for reading the next chapter of this story 'Born to be a King 1 - My little Gypsy Prince.
This is the FIRST book of the adult series. Many more books will follow, just be patient...
Enjoy the reading, and help us make our world a better place. We need you!

Please, have a look at my children's series, 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.
The children's story is on Nifty in 'young-friends', and it's callled: 'Born as a Prince'...

Just click this link to go to Nifty, or go to my homepage to read the latest versions.

All the stories are on my own homepage as well: http://www.harryanders.com
Just click this link to go there and read the latest and rewritten versions (recommended)!

I would LOVE to receive your comments or appreciations...
Please, send me an email now and then, to let me know the story has some impact on you.

I wish you lots of Love in your Life, and Profound Peace in your Heart.
Harry AnderS, Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer.