- 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 roller coaster hints at past lives, spirit helpers, karma, the Power of Love, and contains several practical psychological concepts.
'Harry AnderS' is a retired Dutch psychotherapist and writer. He lives in The Netherlands; and is specialized in supporting troubled children.
    Please, also read his beautiful children's series of books, called 'Born as a Prince', written from the little Gypsy boy's own point of view!


Chapter 24 ended with:

    Tenderly, I lifted him off the bed and into my arms.
He put his arms around my neck, and let me carry him to the shower.
I sat him down into a corner, quickly undressed, and threw my clothes onto the chest of drawers.
I adjusted the water temperature, until it felt nice.
Slowly, he shifted under the warmed water stream, with a smile of content.

    I sat down next to him, took the soap, and carefully lathered him up from head to toe.
He closed his eyes, and I thought I heard him purr, like a little kitten.
I washed his front, turned him around, and washed his back.
I sat him in between my knees, and washed his hair, careful not to let the shampoo drip into his eyes.
Quickly, I washed myself, while he waited for me with his eyes closed.
I took him into my arms, and rinsed both of us together while he spluttered and blew small bubbles.

    I took him out of the shower stall, and carefully dried him everywhere.
I sat him down onto the chest of drawers, and dried myself.
I took him to our waterbed, opened the blankets, and put him down.
I crawled next to him, turned the lights off, and covered us with the blankets.
Immediately, he crawled onto my stomach with a contented sigh.
    He put his little distorted nose in my left armpit, and yawned:

    "Thank you, Daddy. That was really nice! I'm happy we are together, and I love your body, your heart, and your soul."

    I felt all mushy inside, and had to be careful not to crush him in my arms.
My precious son.
My beautiful little soul mate...


Chapter 25. Visiting the graveyard, where little Harry's parents are buried.

    I woke up, slowly returning from a beautiful dream.
In my dream, my soul mate was married, and I was the proud Godfather of a little boy called 'Harry'...
I knew he was the new Heir to the Throne, but couldn't remember where he was living...
He had a slightly darker face, nearly black hair, and two bright blue eyes that pierced straight into your soul...
I was sure I would meet him in the future; until my dream faded away and I started to doubt.
Of course, it was only a dream...

    My little soul mate continued to snore, lying on my stomach, showing a smile of deep content on his face.
Unfortunately, my bladder started to protest, telling me it wanted to be emptied NOW!
I tried to lift little Harry off my stomach, but that caused an immediate grunt and a struggle.
    He tilted his head, and looked at me:

    "What are you doing?"

    "Sorry, but I need to visit the toilet..."

    "Okay! I'm coming with you."

    He jumped off my stomach and left our bed, being bright and shining, letting his little pecker proudly point the way.
Together, we descended the stairs and emptied our bladders into the ceramic god, trying to cross our streams.
We washed our hands in the sink, and little Harry started to make us breakfast with scrambled eggs, tomatoes, and some of his famous herbs.
I sipped my first cup of coffee, and felt rich.

    After a while, little Harry looked at me, munching on the last piece of toast:

    "Dad, what are we going to do today?"

    "I don't know... What do you want us to do?"

    "Could we do something together? Just the two of us?"

    "Yes, of course we could. Do you have any idea about what?"

    "I hope you will not be mad at me, Dad; but I want to visit the graveyard where my real Mom and Dad are buried..."

    I looked at him, and saw tears slowly welling up in his eyes.
In my selfishness, I had never thought about his real parents...
Of course, he had been thinking about them now and then!
It was totally normal he wanted to have a look at where they were buried...
    I got up, and tenderly took him into my arms:

    "I want to visit them too, to thank them for allowing me to raise such a fine young man. Do you know where they are buried?"

    "No, I've never been to their grave before; but I know they were buried and not cremated, in spite of the fire..."

    "Let's have a look in the telephone book. I hope we can find the address of the local graveyard."

    We found the address, at the border of a small town, next to a church.
I looked on a map where I could find the church, and made a few notations on a piece of paper.
We went upstairs, and neatly dressed for the occasion.
I helped little Harry put on his mask, and we donned our shoes.
I took a thick pillow from our couch, to help him sit a bit higher.

    We went to our golden van, while little Harry carried the keys.
He buckled up in the front seat; proudly sitting on the pillow:

    "Yes, Dad, that's a very good idea! Now I can see everything outside our car."

    I started the engine, and we drove off; while little Harry looked at the piece of paper and gave directions where to go.
He craned his neck to look around, and suddenly pointed:

    "There, Dad, there is the church! Now turn around here, and drive into that small street over there."

    He was right.
At the end of the street, we approached a small graveyard, surrounded by old and skewed weeping willows.
Unfortunately, I had to reverse and turn the van around to find a parking place in the neighborhood.
We left our van and started to walk towards the church, which was still visible.
Little Harry trustingly put his small hand into mine.

    Together, we walked through the meadows towards the graveyard.
It felt like nature itself was respectful here.
Even the birds were sounding less selfish.
The sun was shining less intrusively, and the wind was blowing softer.

    An old and overgrown iron fence secluded the graveyard, having its gate closed.
Little Harry pushed a handle with some force; and fortunately the gate opened, slowly and with a lot of squeaking.
We entered the yard, and both of us felt overwhelmed by the quietness of the surroundings.
Even little Harry didn’t dare to speak aloud...
    He pulled at my arm, and whispered:

    "Where do you think they have buried my parents?"

    "I don't know... Maybe, we could read the text on the gravestones? Hopefully, we can find them that way..."

    Little Harry nodded, and we started to read the text on the first row of stones.
Soon, we were absorbed by the diversity of people who were buried here.
Young people, old people, babies, really old people, and every other age in between...
We turned around to the second row of stones, and to the third row, and to the fourth...

    After nearly two hours of searching and looking around everywhere, we gave up.
We had looked at all the stones; and painstakingly searched every single one for any sign of little Harry's parents...
Unfortunately, everything had been in vain.
We couldn't find any indication of two Gypsy people who were buried here.
Could it be they had buried little Harry's parents in one of those seemingly empty graves without a stone, at the far end of the yard?

    We slumped down onto a big marble stone, with our heads in our hands, unhappily and sulking.
Suddenly, I got an idea that might work, and pulled little Harry closer:

    "Listen, son; maybe we could adopt one of those nice graves, and pretend your parents are buried under its stone? Would they mind?"

    Little Harry looked up at me, and thought or felt around for a moment:

    "I rather would adopt one of those big trees over there, and pretend my parents are buried under its roots..."

    "That is a wonderful idea, son! And, I am sure your parents will not mind at all..."

    We sauntered towards a couple of majestic oak trees at the far end of the yard, and looked around.
Little Harry seemed to be drawn to one of them, and carefully touched it.
He sat down with his back against the tree, and beckoned me to join him.
His feet were touching one of the nearby graves without a stone...
I sat down next to him, with my back against the same old oak tree.
I could swear the tree comforted us and offered us its strength!

    We sat there for a long time, enjoying the peacefulness of the surroundings.
Little Harry leaned into me, and I put my arm around his small body.
Slowly, he wormed his small feet around in the seemingly empty grave...

    After a while, a tall man slowly approached us and nodded:

    "Morning, gentlemen. I am the sacristan of our church. It’s a wonderful day today, isn't it?"

    "Yes, sir; today is a wonderful day. Being the sacristan, maybe you could help us? We are looking for the parents of little Harry over here. Both of them perished in a caravan fire, two years ago. Could you help us find out where they are buried?"

    The man smiled at little Harry, and nodded again:

    "I saw you looking at all the stones, and I supposed you couldn't find somebody... I will have to search the register, and I am sure we will find out where your parents are. Please follow me to the church."

    We followed the sacristan to the church, and he unlocked an old door.
He guided us to a small room, filled with many ancient looking books.
    He took one of the books from a shelf, opened it, and beckoned little Harry to come and have a look:

    "My friend, do you know the exact date when your parents were buried?"

    "No, sir, I only know it was in the summer and it is two years ago."

    "Then let's look from the start of summer... what is the last name of your parents?"

    "Romani, but I don't think the authorities knew their names..."

    "Well, then let's have a look at the different descriptions..."

    Together, they started to look in the register.
Little Harry carefully followed the names with his finger...
    Suddenly, he jumped up:

    "There they are! 'A man and a woman, both of unknown age and origin, burnt together in a fire'. I have found them, Dad!"

    He threw himself at me, and started to cry.
I sat down onto a wooden bench, and tenderly took him onto my lap.
I caressed him until his sobbing ceased and he pulled himself together.
I took my handkerchief out of my pocked, dried his eyes, and let him blow his nose.
    He looked at the sacristan, and asked with a tiny voice:

    "May we have a look at their grave now?"

    The sacristan nodded with tears in his eyes, and took us back to the graveyard.
He stopped at a grave without a stone, next to little Harry's big oak tree.
    He looked bewildered at the grave; and told little Harry:

    "Do you realize that, while you sat here, your feet were touching the grave of your parents? What coincidence!"

    He retreated respectfully, and left us alone.
Little Harry sat down in the same position, with his back against the oak tree and his small feet worming in the grave of his parents:

    "I am sure my parents showed me the way, Dad! They guided me to this tree, next to where they are buried. I am so happy..."

    I heard him whisper to his parents, but didn't understand what he told them.
Suddenly, I thought I heard a female voice in my head, thanking me for all the good things I did for her son...

    "My mother wishes to thank you for all the good things you've done for me, Dad. My parents are liking you very much."

    I bowed my head and started to cry, joining little Harry.
I never thought his parents would approve of my efforts to raise him...
We embraced each other and comforted each other, sobbing into each other's arms.
We cried for quite a while, until at last our sobs decreased.
We dried our eyes with a dry corner of my handkerchief, and looked at each other...

    Both of us felt we were ready, and everything was okay now.
We scrabbled upright without uttering any words, and left our oak tree together.
I had to stretch my sore back a couple of times, before I was able to walk properly...
Little Harry took my hand, and together we walked back to the gate.
He opened it, we walked through, and he closed it again.

    All the time, he was silent and looked a bit pensive.
Suddenly, he stopped, and pulled me back:

    "I want to put a gravestone on their grave, Dad. That way, I will be able to find them by myself in the future."

    "I think that is a wonderful idea, son. Let's ask the sacristan where we can order a nice grave stone..."

    We returned to the church, and found the sacristan in his small front garden.
He greeted us with a big smile, and asked if everything was okay now.
We told him about little Harry's wish, and he handed us a reliable address.
We thanked him for his valuable help, and slowly sauntered back to our van.
Little Harry got the keys, and let us in.
He clambered onto his pillow; we buckled up, and I drove off.

    We drove to the recommended shop, which fortunately wasn't far away.
I parked our van, and we entered the shop and looked around...
    Little Harry went straight to a beautiful brownish marble stone in a corner:

    "This one, Dad! I want this one on their grave..."

    We ordered the stone, with a nice text and both names of little Harry's parents chiseled into it.
I was shocked by its price, but decided not to deliberate. My boy's happiness was worth many times that sum!
The stone would be ready and placed onto the grave within two weeks.
With happy feelings in our heart, we returned to our van and drove off.
Today really was a wonderful day!


    Little Harry was very quiet on the way home, with a dark look and furrowed brows.
He didn't even bother to switch our car stereo on, and just stared into space.
Obviously, he was brooding about something, and I decided to let him have all the space he needed.

    Soon, we were home.
I parked our van in the driveway in its usual place, and we got out.
Little Harry went straight to the living room and slumped down onto the couch, impatiently waiting for me.
    The moment I sat down, he climbed onto my lap, heaving a deep sigh:

    "Why, Dad? Why did they kill my parents?"

    Involuntarily, I shuddered.
This was the question I had been dreading most, and I didn't have the answer...
I didn't have ANY answer...

    "I don't know the answer, son. I really don't know..."

    Little Harry looked into my eyes, and cuddled up to me.
I could feel his love radiating towards me:

    "Yet, I think I am a lucky boy, because I'm still having you..."

    The doorbell rang, and little Harry hurried to the front door.
This time, he didn't feel any visitors ten seconds before they showed up...
    John entered our living room, looking a bit dejected:

    "Where have you been all morning? Davey was here, Nicky asked for you, and the neighbor girls wanted to use our swimming pool..."

    He sat down next to me, and I threw an arm around him.
Before I was able to answer him, little Harry crawled onto his lap:

    "Dad and I went to the graveyard where my parents are buried, but we couldn't find them. We looked at all the stones, until we sat down with our backs against an old oak tree.
    "A nice sacristan took a big book, and there I found my parents. They were buried next to the tree, and I had been sitting with my feet on their grave all the time!
    "We went to a shop and ordered a stone with the names of my parents chiseled into it. Within two weeks, it will be placed on their grave.
    "I could feel them around all the time, and now and then they talked to me. They thanked Dad for all the good things he is doing for me."

    "Wow! I am very happy for you! But, next time you are going, I want to join you..."

    Suddenly, John looked at me, with a questioning face:

    "Why, Dad? Why did those bastards kill Harry's parents?"

    Little Harry left John, crawled onto my lap, and thought aloud:

    "I think Gypsies are born under a curse. Everybody always hates Gypsies. It can be because they don't understand us, or because they don't know us...
    "People are always afraid of the unknown, like with a snake or with a spider. They don't need to know whether it is poisonous or not, they just kill it..."

    He shuddered; and leaned into me, as if looking for protection:

    "Dad, I don't want to be killed because I am a Gypsy... I am not a snake or a spider, but a human being...
    "Sometimes, I am afraid to be the king of my people, with all those police raids and all that hatred around us. I only want to live in peace...
    "Why don't they leave us alone?"

    This had to be the big question!
Why don't people leave other people alone...
I shook my head silently, and didn't have any answer...


    The next day, BJ went to a hospital, to undergo his cancer treatment.
Two days later, he was back home!
The doctors tested his cancer, and found out it was retreating fast...
They thought it had to be due to his changed mood and his sudden will to survive.
He had to swallow a couple of pills every day, and to visit the hospital once a week for inspection.
His pains were subsiding, and his strength was returning.
He enjoyed the company and the love of his three sons, who adored him.
Now and then, he visited us for a talk and a cuddle.

    Jason and Carl were inseparable; always in each other's company; marveling in each other's love.
They visited us often and told me everything, maybe with the exception of a few too private things.
Jason had changed quite a lot; and now every child in our neighborhood liked him.

    Nicky seemed to be living in two houses...
He had his own home, and his second home was here.
Little Harry and he were best friends; always up to something daring or naughty, but never crossing the boundaries too much.
Everybody liked them and laughed at their funny gimmicks.
Jason and Carl seemed to have adopted them as their own children, and often took them out to fun places.

    John seemed to be living in three houses.
Davey and he were always experimenting, constructing technical inventions out of practically nothing.
Now and then, they were driving Mary, or Trudy, or me, to despair...
Eventually, they claimed my garage; and built a solid workbench for their experiments.
They gathered lots of equipment and boxes full of electronics junk, and were always trying out new things.
Now and then, the electric fuses blew out and I had to replace them; but who cares.

    I had lots of time to work on my new book 'Born to be a King'.
A nice story unfolded, that sometimes brought even me to tears when I read it back!
I had put the first chapters onto the Internet, and received enthusiastic emails almost every day.
My readers were calling it an 'emotional rollercoaster', and I accepted that as being a huge compliment.

    Now and then, little Harry crawled onto my lap, to have a better look at what I was writing...
One time, he chuckled, and told me:

    "When I'm old enough, I want to write my OWN book, about my life as a Prince! Will you help me, Dad, to spell all those difficult words?"

    "Of course, I will help you! I think you will be an excellent writer. Maybe, you could even write a children's book?"

    "That's a good idea! Then, I want to write a series of books, each of them telling about another part of my life. Maybe we could call them 'Born as a Prince'..."

    We promised each other to start with his own book after he returned from the clinic and had his new face...



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.