- Harry AnderS -
Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer

'Born to be a King 2'
Book 2 - My Eternal Soul Mate
- by Harry AnderS -

A book with a message.

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

    Below is an OLD version of my manuscript! I am rewriting everything, to publish my BOOK.
However, I didn't want you to wait for so long, thus I decided to put the old chapters onto Nifty.
You may find the newest versions of ALL my stories on my Internet site! Just have a look...

Chapter 28 ended with:

    He went to the phone, and professionally ordered one big pizza with everything on it except for those salty anchovy fishes.
Twenty minutes later, we worked together to devour it, and burped loudly to thank the pizza man.

    "That's what my own people are always doing, Dad. After we've eaten an animal, we're always burping loudly to thank its spirit."

    "I think that is a good habit; but, in our country, don't try to burp when you're having company..."

    He grinned, and went to his surprise box to play with a couple of small games.
I went to the computer; to work on my new book and, now and then, have a cuddle from my son.

    We decided to go to bed early, because both of us were tired.
I undressed him and put him under the shower; marveling at the sight of his beautiful and very soft new skin.
I put him to bed; and he hugged Teddicky, shut his eyes, and fell asleep within seconds.
I entered our bed from the other side, and immediately he wormed into my arms, without waking up.

    Again, I looked at his new face, which was so soft and clean.
The face doctors had done a marvelous job to my marvelous boy!
I switched the lights off, closed my eyes, and felt wonderful.

Chapter 29. Love is the strongest force in the universe.

Time went by, and now little Harry had completely healed, with a nice and shiny skin on his face and body. His bruises were gone, he had slightly stuffed cheeks and a pretty pug nose, and he threw the remainder of his pills away. He was no longer tired and didn't have to rest any more. His green head with the mask now adorned his desk, accompanied by Teddicky, from where they both stared at you when you entered his room. He played outside nearly every day, and made a wagon load of new friends. Nicky and he were together most of the time. Some people even thought they had to be brothers...

One day they stormed into the house, both panting:
"Pop, Harry and I had a fight with another boy!"
They proudly showed me a few bruises, and little Harry's lower lip bled a bit. I asked them what happened, while cleaning little Harry's lip with a tissue.
They indignantly told me one of their newly found friends suddenly remarked:
"Fortunately that retarded creep seems to have disappeared from our neighborhood."
Little Harry slyly asked him:
"What creep do you mean?"
"You never saw him? A fool with two holes in his face where normal people have a nose, his lips curled when he laughed, and he had more colors on his face than that traveling circus clown. His father should have drowned him at his birth..."
At that moment Nicky kicked the boy in the nuts with all his force, while little Harry threw all his anger into a punch that sent the boy across the street. They left him without looking back, and immediately went to me.
"You should have seen him, Dad! He was at least three years older, but he couldn't defend himself!"
"Next time I will bring a baseball bat with me, and when he insults my friend again I will send him to a hospital!"

The doorbell rang, and I opened the front door where an angry woman glared at me, ready to attack:
"Your boys pummeled my poor little baby!"
I tried to smile at her, and extended my hand:
"Please, come in, and have a drink. How old is your poor little baby?"
"He's only eleven years old, nearly twelve. And I want you to punish the boys who attacked him!"
I turned around and beckoned them over:
"Harry, Nicky, come here, please..."
Two small boys timidly appeared in the doorway, looking at their feet. Little Harry sniffled a bit and put a blood covered tissue to his lower lip.
"There are your boys. They are both eight years old, and they told me another boy started to offend them..."
The woman stared at both boys with disbelief in her eyes:
"YOU attacked my poor little baby?"
"He insulted my friend, by calling him a creep who should have been drowned at his birth. Next time I will send him to a hospital!"
Nicky's eyes shot daggers and he balled his fists, ready to defend his friend with his life.
The woman shook her head and retreated, muttering:
"Boys... they're always up to some trouble..."
We went inside, and I closed the door.

I went to the couch in the living room and beckoned them over:
"Now you see what hatred can do. It starts with an insult, then you use violence, and a moment later we have a small war."
"But, POP, he insulted Harry! He told us Harry should have been drowned at his birth..."
"That boy used only WORDS, and words never can do any harm. Words are just a vibration in the air. It's not the words that do the harm; it's the following violence that starts the trouble!"
They had to think that over for a while; and both went to the computer, where they slowly wriggled into the same chair. There they sat, looking at the empty screen, not daring to start a game.
After a while a timid little Harry looked at me:
"Are you mad at us, Dad?"
"No, I'm not mad at you. Just a bit disappointed. You could have thought of a better solution... Think about that the next time, will you?"
They promised me to improve their behavior, and started a racing game on the computer.

At six o'clock Nicky went home after a big hug and a wet kiss, and little Harry seemed to be unusually silent. He didn't really eat, but merely stared at his plate and now and then pricked into a potato. After a few bites he shoved his plate away:
"I'm not hungry, Dad, am I excused?"
He went into the living room, and fell asleep on the couch. I cleared the kitchen table and took a cup of coffee with me to the living room, where I sat down on a chair so as not to disturb my little soul mate who seemed to be a bit restless.
John and Davey came by, and we talked in a soft voice about their future. They both wanted to study, and had decided to attend a technical college. John wanted to be a technical engineer, while Davey was more interested in mathematics. They asked me to help them choose a suitable college. After a while they went home, relieved, and asking me to greet little Harry when he woke up.
Little Harry was still restless, and now and then he moaned in his sleep. I put him under a blanket, and felt his forehead. He seemed to be a bit feverish, but not too much to be worried about. He woke up, shivered, and asked for a glass of water. He took a swig, turned around, and fell asleep again.
I kissed his forehead, and went to my computer to write the next chapter of my story 'Little Harry'.

At ten o'clock I called it a day and took Little Harry upstairs, still sound asleep in my arms. I washed him carefully and put him under the blankets, where he slowly opened his eyes, yawning and squinting at me:
"Where am I? Did you put me to bed?"
"What's the matter with you, my precious friend?"
"I don't know. I've a headache and my stomach hurts. I feel sleepy..."
He crawled into my arms and fell asleep again. This time he felt slightly more feverish, and I thought maybe he could have gotten the flu. I fell asleep, hoping a night's sleep would cure him.
In the middle of the night I woke up to the sound of a moaning little Harry. He was soaking wet now, felt very hot, and shivered all the time.
I clicked the lights on, and he looked at me with watery reddish eyes:
"Can't you chase that man away? I can't sleep while he's pestering me..."
I got dry sheets from the hallway cabinet and made him a drink with a dissolved aspirin, which he drank with a sour face:
"That tastes awful!"
I washed him again and carefully dried him. He crawled into my arms, moaning:
"That man is trying to take me with him..."
He became more and more restless, so I decided to call a doctor and ask his advice.

Our family doctor knew everything about little Harry's recent surgery. He asked me a few questions, and then decided to look at our little friend as soon as possible. Within twenty minutes he entered the house and immediately went upstairs.
He examined little Harry thoroughly, looked in his throat, listened to his lungs, took his temperature, and felt his lymph glands:
"I can't find anything alarming. Just keep him warm and let him drink lots of water. I'll leave a prescription to suppress his fever."
I thanked our doctor, who soon went home to resume his sleep. Then I tried to let little Harry drink a glass of water, and with some difficulty he managed to drink half of it, still shivering and softly moaning about a man.
We tried to get some more sleep, but every ten minutes my little boy woke up and started to moan again, complaining about a man who was annoying him.
The remainder of the night was a real nightmare. Little Harry kept on moaning and thrashing around, looking into space with watery eyes, and talking about a man who was bothering him all the time. In the morning he eventually fell into a restless sleep, dead tired and sweating all over his body.

The doorbell woke me up, and unfortunately little Harry woke up too. He started to thrash around again, still soaking wet.
I dressed in a hurry and went downstairs, to let a bright and shining Nicky enter the house:
"Where's Harry? I want us to shower together..."
"Harry's ill. He has a fever, and he's still in bed."
"Does he have the flu? May I see him?"
"Yes, you may see him; but don't wake him up if he's asleep!"
Nicky went upstairs, while I heartily yawned and brewed myself my first cup of strong coffee.
Soon Nicky returned, with a worried face:
"Harry's really sick! He's moaning all the time... Did you call a doctor?"
"Yes, I've called our family doctor in the middle of the night. He has left a prescription to suppress the fever. Could you stay with your friend for a while, until I'm back from the pharmacy?"
"Yes, of course I'll stay. You can always count on me!"
He climbed the stairs with a proud face, very aware of his responsibility.

I drove our van to the pharmacy, where they handed me a box of pills. I paid them, returned, and parked the van in our driveway.
I opened the front door, and Nicky stormed downstairs, panting:
"Pop, Harry has vomited two times, and he stinks!"
I hurried upstairs; where I found my little soul mate crying, the bed stained with vomit, and the air soiled with a nasty smell. Nicky opened a window, while I tried to clean up my poor boy. Everything was dirty. He had vomited all over the bed, and had a watery diarrhea.
I sent Nicky downstairs, to get more tissues to clean him up a bit before I took him to the shower.  Then I took my stinking boy in my arms, while a helpful Nicky adjusted the water temperature. Together we washed him, carefully dried him, and parked him in a blanket on a chair.
Nicky helped me to change the sheets, while we both held our breaths until we had put the stained sheets in the washing machine and turned it on. We got clean sheets from the hallway cabinet, and together we put our little friend to bed again.

Little Harry was very pale now, shivering and moaning, again talking about a nasty man who was bothering him all the time.
"Nicky, I want to call our family doctor for the second time, while you are here to help your friend if necessary."
"You can count on me, Pop!"
I went downstairs, to call our doctor for the second time. When I returned, Nicky sat on a corner of the bed, holding little Harry's hand.
I decided to ask Nicky a few questions about little Harry's strange idea:
"Nicky, do you know about a man who has been bothering Harry? Maybe yesterday, while you were playing outside?"
"No, we've only met a couple of children. However, when Jason had a nasty flu he talked nonsense too. My Dad called it 'delirium'."

The doorbell rang, and Nicky hurried downstairs to open the front door. He politely guided our doctor upstairs. I offered him a chair to sit down, and told him everything about our restless night and little Harry's vomiting and watery diarrhea.
"I still think he's gotten a nasty virus. Only his temperature seems a bit too high now. Did he complain about pain in his body somewhere?"
"No, but yesterday he complained about a headache and pain in his stomach."
Little Harry had to sit upright, and the doctor looked him all over, even more thoroughly than last night:
"May I use your phone? I would like to call the clinic to ask their advice, just to be sure..."
A proud looking Nicky politely guided our doctor downstairs, while I tried to reassure my softly sobbing little soul mate.

Soon our doctor returned, with Nicky in his footprints:
"The surgeon wants to speak with you..."
I went downstairs and greeted our 'face doctor', who immediately started to ask a couple of questions:
"Did our little friend complain about a severe fatigue?"
"Only during the first days. After that time he always played outdoors with a couple of friends, and never complained."
"That's a good sign. Did you see something abnormal on his body, like blue spots or sudden bruises?"
"No, he has a beautiful smooth skin all over his body now. He healed wonderfully."
"That's good. Has he spots on his body that are itchy, or sensitive?"
"Only the first days. After that time I never heard him complain. He even threw his pills away."
"Wonderful. Your house doctor examined him thoroughly, and he couldn't find anything suspect either. Of course there's always a small chance his body will reject the transplants. That's why we will send a nurse to you today, who will take a few blood, skin, and urine samples, just to be sure. I instructed your doctor to administer a sedative, to put him asleep for a while. Could you put a diaper on him? It's possible he will soil the blankets again while he's asleep."
"I will buy him a couple of diapers. Is there anything else I can do for him?"
"Don't let him eat today, but he should drink as much as possible. And please keep me informed!"
"Thank you for your advice. And yes, I certainly will keep you informed."

I returned to my bedroom, where in the meantime our doctor had put little Harry to sleep with a small injection.
"Nicky, please will you buy us a packet of diapers, to protect our friend from soiling the bed again?"
I handed Nicky some money; and he hurried downstairs, nearly skipping, followed by our family doctor who promised to pay us another visit the next day.
I sat down and looked at my little soul mate with his pale face and his swollen eyelids, now softly snoring. What was the trouble with him? And who was that strange 'man' that bothered him so much? I was still sleepy, and slowly drifted off.
Suddenly I saw Jack, standing in a bright white light, and I heard his voice in my head:
"He's a fighter, and he will come through. We will protect him..."
In a shock I woke up. Protect him? From what? Why did my little soul mate have to fight, and whom? That nasty man he was complaining about all the time? Who was that man, and how could I help or protect him against a stranger I didn't even see?

The doorbell rang, and I rushed downstairs. I let Nicky in, proudly carrying a big packet of diapers. We went upstairs, and carefully put diapers on our softly snoring friend, who fortunately didn't wake up.
Nicky looked at me, now very sad:
"We always teased him about buying him diapers, Pop. And now we really have to buy him diapers..."
I sighed and ruffled his hair. I felt more and more attached to this helpful little boy, with his open face and intelligent greenish eyes. Together we went to the living room, leaving all doors open so we could hear our poor little friend, in case he woke up.
"Thank you, Nicker, for assisting me with all those things. You are a wonderful help today!"
"That's okay, Pop. Harry is my friend, and of course I will always help him and you with everything. I like you calling me 'Nicker'. So far Jason was the only one who sometimes called me that, or 'little dragon' because of our green eyes. We called him the 'chasing dragon' and I was the 'nickering dragon', while Carl was the 'curling dragon'. Until my father kicked Carl out of the house, and Jason suddenly became a 'bullying dragon'..."

The door bell rang again, and Nicky went to the front door. He returned with Davey, who was curious about little Harry's sudden sleepiness. I told him what had happened to our poor little friend, and allowed him to have a look at the hopefully still sleeping boy.
After a moment Davey returned, looking a bit nervous:
"Dad, there's something strange around Harry. I'm not absolutely sure, but it's as if I can feel a nasty person around him, trying to harm him. Perhaps I'm making it up in my mind, but it's as if I really can see him. He looks like a heavy built and strong man with a shaggy beard, and he has a mean look in his eyes. I think he's making Harry very ill..."
Nicky looked up, with sudden comprehension in his eyes:
"Harry was talking about a man who was annoying him all the time. He asked me to chase him away, but I didn't know what he was talking about..."

I was totally aghast. So this had to be true... little Harry saw him, Davey felt him, and Jack promised to protect little Harry against him...
I grew angry. That shaggy bearded man had to keep his hands off my little soul mate! I went to the hallway and ascended the stairs, determined to know what was happening; closely followed by two worried boys.
We entered my bedroom, where little Harry was sound asleep, softly snoring. He looked a little bit better now, with less swollen eyelids and slightly more color on his face. I went to the bed, sat down onto a corner, and tried to feel around...
Where was that man? In my mind I dared him to show up, but nothing happened. Now I felt disappointed. I could have murdered him! Murder a ghost?
"Davey, can you still feel that man around?"
"No, Dad, I think he's gone. Who was it? Do you know him? Can't you tell him to leave Harry alone?"

Suddenly the room went icy cold, as if it was midwinter and someone had opened all the windows. A heavy built and shaggy man with a rough beard approached me, looking at me with hatred in his eyes.
I clearly heard his nasty and grating voice in my head:
"Once you got MY boy, and now I will get YOUR boy! An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth."
The room started to turn around, and everything went black...
I was a nasty man myself, stealing innocent children to sell them to rich people. A crying man approached my coach, begging me to give him his little boy back; but I derided him and kicked him off the footboard. He fell, and severely bruised his hip, preventing him from following me. I whipped my horse and drove off, leaving him on the street crying his heart out. I felt a little bit guilty, but suppressed my feelings. Today I had earned a lot of money!
The world started to turn around again, and I returned into the room. I fell off the corner of the bed with a loud bang, and severely bruised my left hip.

I started to tremble all over my body; and tried to squint at two very worried boys, who desperately tried to wake me up:
"Pop, what happened to you? Please, don't die..."
I tried to get up; but groaned, feeling an intense pain in my left hip. After a while I carefully lifted myself onto the bed, helped by the boys.
"Thank you, boys, just give me a minute. I think I've injured my hip, and I feel a bit giddy."
Nicky brought me a glass of water; while Davey tried to support me, obviously afraid I would fall off the bed again.
"All of a sudden the room went icy cold, Dad. Then your eyes turned around in your head, and you fell off the bed with a bang."
I looked at Nicky and Davey, both trembling with fear; and at little Harry, softly snoring under the blankets... Was this all for REAL? I could hardly have made this up myself... Still trembling all over, I limped down to phone Christian, our psychic medium.

I looked in all the drawers and the cupboards, and eventually I found his business card with his phone number. Maybe Christian knew what I should do now, to protect myself and my little soul mate from that man? I dialed his number, and waited and waited, but nobody answered the phone...
I slumped down on the couch, with my head in my hands, accompanied by two still trembling and very worried looking boys. Was it really MY fault little Harry was ill? Was this what people call 'Karma', meaning you will have to make up for what you did to others in your past lives? Did I once steal that man's son, and now he tried to steal my son in revenge?
Where was our spirit friend Jack? "JACK..."
I tried to call him in my head, but nobody answered. Now I started to panic. What if that man really could take little Harry away from me, like I once took his little boy away from him? An eye for an eye...

The doorbell rang, and both boys rushed to the door. They returned with a smiling nurse, carrying a small suitcase:
"I would like to take a few blood and urine samples from our little friend with his beautiful new face."
We went upstairs, me still limping; and the nurse prepared a few things:
"Please will you try to wake the boy up now, and have him urinate in this bottle?"
I removed little Harry's diapers, and tried to wake him up. After a few efforts he slowly opened his eyes and yawned:
"What's the time? I want to sleep some more..."
"I want you to pee in this bottle, to help the friendly nurse over there."
Little Harry squinted at her, colored a deep red, and covered his boyhood with his hands:
"I don't want her to look..."
She winked at him and left the room. Little Harry nearly fell asleep again, but fortunately managed to produce a few drops:
"I'm too sleepy..."
He fell down onto the bed, and was sound asleep again.

I reattached his diapers and covered him with the blankets. The nurse laughed and freed his arm. She attached a tourniquet to his upper arm and put a needle into a vein, causing a slight wince from little Harry, but he didn't wake up. She drew three small samples of blood, and attached a band-aid to the small wound. Then she cleaned a spot on his upper arm, took a small machine from her suitcase, and put it onto the spot. She pushed a button:
"OUCH!" little Harry shouted and jumped up.
But the nurse had her skin sample. She asked him to forgive her, and attached a second band-aid to the new wound, while little Harry fell asleep again. She put the sample into a small plastic container in her suitcase.
I offered her a cup of coffee in the kitchen, while the boys took a glass of cola. She told us the laboratory would test the samples the moment they arrived, to be early in case something was wrong. After a few minutes she took her suitcase and the samples with her, and the boys accompanied her to the door. She waved at them, and drove off to the clinic.
"That was a nasty vampire machine, Dad! It snapped a piece of skin out of Harry's arm, just like that..."

The doorbell rang, and John arrived, with a look of concern in his eyes:
"Dad, how's Harry? Is he feeling better now?"
We told him everything. He immediately went upstairs, to have a look at his little brother, and to look for that nasty man that dared to bother him.
After a few minutes he returned:
"Harry is sound asleep, and I didn't feel anything around him. Maybe you made it up in your mind?"
Davey, Nicky, and I reassured him that really something inexplicable had happened. I lowered my pants to show him my painfully bruised hip.
"That's a nasty bruise you've got there! Well... then I suppose you're right. But I didn't feel anything unusual around Harry while I was upstairs. Do you have something to eat, Dad? I'm starved..."
I was hungry too, so we prepared sandwiches, with lots of salad and other healthy vegetables.

After a while John and Davey went away together, promising me to be back later. Nicky and I went upstairs, to have another look at little Harry.
He seemed to recover, and had slightly more color on his face. I kissed his forehead, while Nicky laid down next to him and tenderly hugged his poor friend. Little Harry immediately put his arms around Nicky; still sound asleep, and with a blissful smile on his face.
"I think we are in love with each other, Dad, but we're too young to be homo's."
I didn't say a word, but ruffled his hair and tenderly kissed his nose.
After a while we went back to the couch, where Nicky crawled onto my lap:
"I love you, Pop. Now I have two dads; one Dad at home and one Dad here. My own Dad is much nicer now, he even calls me 'Nicker' sometimes, a thing he never did before. I'm allowed to sleep in his bed, and we cuddle a lot, just like with you. I think I'm a lucky boy."
"I think I'm a lucky man, to have you as a friend! You're a wonderful boy, always helpful, and with a lot of love in your heart."
We cuddled for quite a while. Now and then one of us went upstairs, to have a look at little Harry who still softly snored.

The phone rang, and Nicky hopped off my lap. I answered the phone and listened:
"We've looked at all the samples the nurse took from your boy this morning, and all seems to be well. Fortunately here are no signs of skin rejection. We couldn't detect any viruses, but his lymphocytes count was a bit too high. That means there could have been a bacterial infection, so we will ask your family doctor to have a close look at him for a couple of days. There's nothing to be worried about."
"Thank you very much! That's quite a relief. Is there something else I could do for my boy?"
"Just let him drink as much water as possible, and let him eat easily digestible nutrition for a few days. That's all."
I thanked our 'face doctor' for his help, and put the receiver back.

Nicky and I both heard a faint "Dad..." sounding from the stairway. We jumped up and hurried upstairs.
Little Harry sat upright in bed, with a remorseful sleepy face:
"Sorry, Dad, but I think I've soiled the bed again..."
I threw the blankets off, and little Harry looked down at his diapers with disbelief in his eyes:
"Why am I wearing a DIAPER?"
"Sorry, son, but you were very sick. You threw up and soiled the sheets, and you got nasty diarrhea, so we provided you with diapers to be prepared for the next time. And the next time seems to be now..."
"I don't remember anything... but I feel sleepy and hungry. Could you get me something to eat?"

"Nicky, do you want to cook some porridge for your friend? Oatmeal's in the kitchen cabinets, and milk's in the refrigerator."
"Of course, Pop. At home I cook it every Sunday morning, with sugar and lots of melted butter."
Nicky hurried downstairs with a proud face, to cook for his friend. I carefully cleaned little Harry, threw his soiled diapers away, and washed him all over.
He threw his arms around my neck and shivered:
"I'm tired, Dad, and I feel like trembling all over."
"I know, son. Take it easy for a couple of days, and allow your body to strengthen. You will soon feel better."
I changed the sheets for the third time, and put my precious son under the blankets.
 He started to shiver again, with perspiration on his forehead:
"I'm thirsty..."
I brought him a glass of water, and he gulped it down, coughing:
"Another glass, please..."
Nicky returned with a filled tray, and put it down on the bed:
"I hope there are no chunks in it, and do you want butter and sugar?"
"Yes, please, melted butter and lots of sugar!"

We were relieved to see little Harry wolfing his porridge. This certainly was a good sign.
"Thanks, Nick and Dad, but now I want to sleep. I'm still feeling tired..."
He turned around, and almost immediately fell asleep. I placed the bowl back onto the tray and took it with me. Together we went downstairs and into the kitchen, where I washed the dishes and Nicky put the rest of the oatmeal and the milk away. We went to the couch and sat down, with all the doors opened to be able to hear little Harry, in case he woke up and needed us.
"I'm pleased that Harry feels better now, Pop! I was really worried about him..."
I held Nicky for another while, marveling in the feeling of being befriended with, and by, such a wonderful and helpful child. At last he got bored and hopped off my lap, to start a game on the computer.

The remainder of the day passed by uneventfully. After a while little Harry woke up and wanted to have company. Nicky and he played a few games, but soon he was too tired and wanted to rest for another while. In the meantime I sat at my computer and worked on my story 'Little Harry'.
Nicky had dinner with us, and left at eight o'clock to do some chores at home. He promised to be back the next day. At nine-thirty I called it a day and went to bed, where my little soul mate already softly snored. He shifted into my arms without waking up, and I fell asleep, tired of all the events.
At eleven-thirty I woke up at the sounds of a moaning little Harry, thrashing around and fighting something invisible:
"Noooo, go away! Leave me alone! I don't want to go with you. DAD..."
I clicked the lights on, and looked at my little soul mate. He was soaking wet now, and stared into space with bulging eyes:
"Dad, please, chase that man away. He wants to take me with him..."
Again I heard that nasty and grating voice in my head:
"I will never let him go. He's MINE now..."

I cursed, carefully wrapped little Harry in a blanket, and took him with me downstairs. I sat him on my lap and took the phone to call Christian.
Within twenty seconds I heard his voice:
"Hello? This is Christian. Do you know what time it is..."
Never in my life had I been so grateful. I told Christian everything, and he listened without interrupting. When I was done, he said only one thing:
"I'm on my way."
I put little Harry down onto a chair, and went to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee for Christian and me. Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. A sleepy-looking Christian entered the house and went straight to the living room, where he took a chair next to little Harry:
"Hello, my precious friend. Now please tell me exactly what's happening to you."
"There's a man around me, who's bothering me all the time. He wants me to go with him, but I want to be here with my Dad. Now he's threatening me..."
Christian nodded, tilted his head, seemed to listen to somebody, and nodded again:
"Together we're going to free that poor man from all his hatred."

He turned his chair around, to face little Harry:
"Please put your hands into mine. And you, sir, please stand behind your son, and put your hands on his shoulders."
I did as he asked. Suddenly the room went icy cold. I got goose bumps all over my body, and started to panic.
"Don't be afraid, and be there for your little boy. Now send that poor man all the love you can muster. You know how to do it."
I tried to send that nasty man my love, and suddenly I could clearly see him. He was heavy built, with a shaggy beard, and looking very surprised. He clearly didn’t expect we would send him our love! Ten seconds later I felt Jack, putting his hands onto my shoulders. I felt an intense stream of power surging through my arms to my little soul mate, and through him to the man. For a moment the man tried to resist all that love, but then he broke down and started to sob. Jack approached him and took him into his arms. Together they went to a bright white light, where many other spirits and even angels embraced them.
The vision vanished, and at the same time the room got warmer. Everything around us started to feel at peace and in harmony.

Christian looked at us and smiled:
"That's the power of love. Today you had to learn to love everybody, even your worst enemy. Now I could use a cup of coffee before I go home."
He took little Harry onto his lap, while I went to the kitchen to get the coffee and a glass of cold water for my boy. Through the open door I heard Christian speak to little Harry, trying to explain what had happened:
"That man is taken to the Light, where he will learn to turn his hatred into love and be in peace with himself. He will never again bother you. Next time you know what to do yourself. Never fight an attacker, but send as much love as you can muster, that's all you have to do. Love is the strongest force in the universe. Always remember that! Nobody can ever harm you when you ARE love."

We drank our coffee, and I thanked Christian for his help. He smiled, and went home, yawning.
I switched the TV on, to break the tension. Little Harry scanned the channels, and suddenly there was a Gypsy boy who sang a sad but beautiful song about his own people. The boy sang his heart out, supported by an orchestra of pleading violins. Little Harry's hand wormed into mine, and in awe we listened to the heartbreaking music. To OUR own music...
Until a commercial block popped up, loudly praising something nobody really needed, with a feigning happy voice. It felt like cursing. Little Harry promptly switched the TV off, furtively wiping his eyes.

I took my boy with me upstairs, and we went to bed. He curled up in my arms and yawned, suddenly grinning:
"I love you, Dad. And now even you can't ever harm me..."
I got tears in my eyes, and nearly crushed him...

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Thank you, for reading this chapter of my story 'Born to be a King 2 - My Eternal Soul Mate .
This is the SECOND book of my 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, read all about little Harry as a baby, growing up as a little Gypsy Prince in a secluded place in the Rumanian mountains; this time seen from his OWN point of view...
ALL my stories are on my Internet site: http://www.harryanders.com . Just click this link.
My site always contains all the latest and rewritten versions of my stories (recommended)!

I would LOVE to receive your comments, remarks, or appreciations...
Please, send me an email , to let me know the story has at least SOME impact on you...

I wish you lots of Love in your Life, and Profound Peace in your Heart.

Harry AnderS, Dutch psychotherapist, writing books with a message.

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