- Harry AnderS -
Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer

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

An inspirational fantasy



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

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


Chapter 5 ended with:

    "You weren't surprised to see both of us naked in the kitchen?"

    "Nah, Harry hates clothes, so mostly he walks naked through the house for the whole day. Jack often didn't bother either. At first, I was a bit embarrassed; but, after a while, I got used to their walking around naked. One day, Harry asked me to wash his hair; and, from that time on, we often showered together. Now and then, Jack joined us; and that was always a lot of fun, just like this morning. I did miss that fun for the last two months! Fortunately, now YOU are here to join us and have fun with. However, we are keeping it a secret for the other children. They don't know anything about it."

     Again, we started to sing along with the music from our car radio.
Suddenly, a totally crazy song popped up; and all of us started to howl with the music, shrieking with laughter, and trying to raise the roof of our car:

    "You are soooo beauuuutifuuuullll..."


Chapter 6. Don't stare at my face; but look at the REAL me to see who I am.

    We found the toyshop in a small square, and I parked our car in an even smaller parking lot.
The square seemed to be empty this early in the morning, and the shop looked deserted.
Little Harry was a bit pensive, and seemed to linger on a decision...
    Suddenly, he smiled, straightened his shoulders, and announced:

    "I'm coming with you! Jack always told me to be proud of myself, and of who I am... So, toyshop, here I am!"

    He jumped out of our car and headed for the toyshop, without looking back.
John and I looked at each other; feeling both surprised and very proud of our brave little Gypsy friend with his so terribly burnt face.
We followed him towards the shop.

    "Ting," a bell announced as we opened the door and went in.

    From the back of the store, an elderly woman slowly waddled towards the front.
At first, she looked at us as if she saw some species from another planet.
    Suddenly, she bent over, shifted her glasses to the tip of her nose, and looked again...

    "Oh my dear! You poor little child!" she exclaimed.

    She threw herself at little Harry, in a clumsy attempt to embrace him...
Little Harry swiftly stepped aside, and she nearly fell over her own feet.
    He looked at her with disgust:

    "I am NOT a poor little child! Do you do this with all your customers? Shame on you! Come on, Dad, this isn't the right place for us!"

    He took my hand and pulled me out of the shop, closely followed by a snickering John.
I could feel little Harry's indignation, while he glared back at the shop:

    "Did you see that, Dad? That crazy woman nearly attacked me!"

    He stamped to our car and got in, still muttering and looking angry.
John and I followed him and buckled up; still laughing inwardly.
What an adventure...
We drove off; leaving a confused woman behind, angrily looking at us from behind the shop windows.

    John looked around, carefully studying the various small bystreets, as if he tried to remember something...

    "Somewhere around here, I once saw a shop that's making masks for actors and such... but I'm not sure where it is. It's like a special studio, hidden halfway a small street..."

    Suddenly, little Harry sat upright, with a confused look on his face.
He seemed to listen to somebody or to feel something:

    "I don't know why that is, but we have to turn around here and enter the first street to the left..."

    I did as he told me; and, to our surprise, we immediately saw the studio.
'Make-up and Costumes for Actors' a small signboard told us in ancient characters.
I parked our car along the sidewalk; and we went to the only window, trying to have a look inside.
The lights were on, and everything inside looked cozy and welcoming.
John opened the door, entered the shop, and I followed him inside.
Our little friend did follow us; although, this time, he seemed to be a bit more hesitant...

    "Good morning, gentlemen!" a pleasant voice greeted us.

    A young man with a friendly face pointed to a couple of chairs:

    "It's nice of you to visit my shop. Please have a seat!"

    He smiled at little Harry, with interest and warmth in his eyes:

    "You are a little young to already be an actor, I suppose?"

    "Of course, silly! And I don't need a mask, because I have already a beautiful one of my own..."

    "I see, and may I tell you something that might be important? It's not how you look, but who you are, that counts."

    "I know," little Harry simply answered.

    He looked around and heaved a sigh of content, getting a big smile on his face:

    "It feels nice here!"

    "Thank you!" the owner answered, while his eyes slowly filled with tears,
    "And may I offer you one or two suggestions? By the way, my name is Peter."
    For the next hour, little Harry and Peter looked at photographs, deliberated possibilities, sketched outlines, and asked questions.
Every time, they consulted John and me for approval or advice.
Little Harry told Peter everything about the fire and all his operations.
Trustfully, he let Peter touch his face and look at his scars, even on his chest and legs...

    After a while, Peter started to model some colored clay.
Carefully, he put small pieces onto little Harry's face...
Little Harry looked in a mirror, giggled when it tickled, and now and then tried to direct Peter.
Finally, Peter turned little Harry around, to let us have a look...
We were astonished!
Suddenly, little Harry looked just like any other eight-year-old boy; with a cheerful pug nose, slightly stuffed cheeks, and full lips with a nearly normal color...

    He beamed at us, got tears in his eyes, and turned back to have another look in the mirror...
Now he started to dance around the room, smiling from ear to ear.
He sat down again in front of the mirror, and carefully studied the pieces of clay on his face.
He tried to remodel his plastered nose a bit...

    "Be careful!" Peter warned him with a smile,
    "It will come off easily, because it's only plaster. However, it's a good indication of how your real mask will look when we are ready. Your nose will be slightly bigger, and your lips will look even more natural when you put the final mask onto your face."

    Suddenly, little Harry threw his arms around Peter's neck, sniffling:

    "Thank you, thank you very much! Finally I am looking normal, just like my friends."

    "You are welcome!" Peter reacted, blushing and again getting tears in his eyes.

    "Uh oh!" little Harry suddenly muttered, fishing a piece of newly modeled nose from the floor and looking a bit unsure.

    "That's not a problem, because it's only clay," Peter reassured him,
    "Now we will take the plaster off your face, and I'm going to make a mold for your mask."

    He removed the plaster, cleaned little Harry's face with a bit of cotton wool, and gently applied some oil.
He went to the back of the store, and returned with a spatula and a container of a greenish paste:

    "Can you sit down, be motionless for a short time, and breathe through your nose?"

    Little Harry nodded, and Peter started to apply the greenish paste all over his face.
Little Harry sat upright like a statue, and only slightly flinched when Peter put two straws into his nostrils before covering his nose.

    A few minutes later, Peter peeled the hardened paste off little Harry's face, with the straws still sticking out:

    "That's all, at least for today. Now you may wash your face in the sink at the back of the store."

    He waited until little Harry returned, and showed him the greenish negative impression of his face:

    "From this mold I'm going to make an exact copy of your face, as a help to model your new mask. Within two days, it will be ready, and you will look like a newborn boy!"

    He turned around and looked at me, secretly wiping his eyes:

    "You have a wonderful son!"

    "Yes, I agree with you. You are absolutely right about that, and I'm very proud of him!"

    Little Harry beamed at me, and threw his arms around my waist:

    "Thank you, Dad; and I am very proud of you too!"

    We set a new appointment, to return in two days to fit little Harry's new mask.
Suddenly, little Harry threw his arms around Peter:

    "Thank you for helping me. I knew you were the right person!"

    Peter beamed, and lifted him off the floor for a quick hug.
Now we shook hands, said good-bye, and went to our car.

    We drove off, and I scanned our car stereo for some nice background music.
Both boys seemed rather touched, and were very quiet on our way back.
They just stared out of the windows, without saying a word.
    One time, little Harry threw his arms around my neck from behind:

    "I'm so happy that John remembered that shop, and thank you for buying such a mask for me. I love you very much, and I wish you WERE my Dad!"

    I got tears in my eyes, and choked up...
I even had to wipe them with a slip of my shirt, to be able to keep my eyes on the road.
After a while, John directed me where I had to go to find some groceries.
Soon, I parked the car in a parking lot in front of a big supermarket.
    Little Harry jumped out of the car, and announced with a proud face:

    "I'm coming with you again!"

    He went straight to the sliding doors, and entered the store.
John and I followed him; again looking at each other with amazement and pride...
    Little Harry turned around, keeping up his hand:

    "Do you have a coin? I want to drive the shopping cart."

    I handed him a coin, and he went to the pile of carts and took one.
Three other customers curiously stared at his so devastated face; but, fortunately, they didn't say a word...
    Our brave boy looked at them, smiled, and told them with pride in his voice:

    "Don’t stare at my face, but look at the REAL me. Then you will see who I am!"

    Two customers looked ashamed, shook their heads in disbelief, and shuffled away.
A tall man with a heavy beard and moustache warmly smiled back:

    "That's my boy! I'm sure you will achieve wonderful things in your life. Just be proud of yourself!"

    "I will!"

    Little Harry proudly smiled back at him, and headed for the first pile of groceries.

    Working together, we filled the cart with all the foodstuffs we thought we needed to survive the upcoming week.
John and little Harry both added another couple of things I hadn't thought of.
Clearly, I wasn't used yet to shopping for a household with two growing boys...
Now and then, a few customers stared at little Harry with curious eyes.
They didn't really bother us, and we ignored them and just went on shopping.

    Finally, we headed for the cash register and joined the waiting line.
A couple of customers were ahead of us, so we had to wait patiently until it was our turn.
Two curious girls had been following us and staring at little Harry while we were shopping...
    Now they started to giggle and point at his face:

    "Do you see that? Have a look at it! What kind of creature is this? The freaks have landed... Hey alien, you are on the wrong planet!"

    John stepped towards them, growled, and balled his fists...
Before he could attack them, the tall man with the beard and moustache intervened.
    He dragged both girls by their ear lobes to the exit, where he pushed them through the sliding doors:

    "Go away, and don't let me see you again! You may come back when you do have a better understanding of the words 'compassion' and 'esteem'. This boy has more humanity in his soul than both of you will ever be able to muster together!"

    Both girls ran away, red-faced and tripping over their own feet.
The bearded man chuckled, returned to the cash register, and introduced himself:

    "Sorry for this interruption! My name is Christian, and I am very touched by how your son is coping with his inconvenience. He has a wonderful aura and a very strong spirit. In this life, he is predestined to help other people to cope with their problems; and, in time, he will be known all over the world...
    "I also want to compliment your other son, who so proudly stood up for his smaller brother. He has a very big heart, filled with a lot of love.
    "And you sir, you may be proud of yourself too, because you are really caring for your boys. In this life, you are turning into a beautiful soul with a lot of love and compassion!"

    He smiled at both boys, and playfully ruffled their hair.
Little Harry had a big smile on his face, and John seemed rather impressed...
    The bearded man turned towards me again:

    "I hope I am not imposing too much, but I have a message for you. I am working as a psychic medium; and your spirit guide wishes to contact both you and your youngest son. He tells me it's very important to listen to what he has to say; so, please, don't hesitate too long..."

    To say I was totally thunderstruck, wasn't strong enough to express my feelings...
This man is a 'psychic medium'?
My 'spirit guide' wishes to contact me and little Harry?
How... when... what spirit guide?
Who is that stranger, and what does he want from us?

    I looked at little Harry, who seemed to like the man; and at John, who seemed to trust him.
John's mother once said that John was a very good judge of character...
Could I really trust this stranger, that 'psychic medium' Christian?
Who was that man, and how did he know my spirit guide?
I supposed he meant Jack, the spirit I had met in my daydreams?
Maybe Jack was around us, here in this supermarket?
Did Jack have a message for us?

    I thought of Jack; and imagined I felt his presence, opening myself to him.
Immediately, I heard his voice in my head, confirming my presumptions with a distinct "Yes".
Jack WAS around us...
Should I take the risk, and invite that strange medium into my house?
Well, okay, let's go for it...

    "Thank you!" Christian responded, as if I had told him my decision aloud,
    "Shall we meet this evening at eight o'clock? To take away your doubts, your spirit friend now tells me that the youngest boy isn't your real son in THIS life, and the other boy is a good friend."

    What... did I hear that right?
Little Harry was not my real son in THIS life?
Did Christian mean little Harry HAD been my real son in one of my past lives?
Now I wanted to know more, at least about how and where we had known each other before!
I was very surprised, and handed Christian my business card with my address and phone number.
He turned around without saying another word, and disappeared through the sliding doors without looking back.

    John took two empty cardboard boxes from a pile, and we put our groceries into the trunk of our car.
Little Harry returned the shopping cart, handed me the coin, and we buckled up and drove home.
On our way back, all three of us were silent and deep in thought...
What a peculiar experience we had been living through!
A total stranger approached us, clearly knew the decision I was making in my mind, and told me a couple of things he could not possibly know...

    The more I thought about it, the more I looked forward to Christian's pending visit!
What would Jack want to tell us this evening?
Would John be allowed to be there too?
Would I see 'ghosts', or 'spirits', or would Christian go into a 'trance' and speak with another voice, like in the movies?
I hoped it would not be too creepy...

    We arrived home, and both boys helped me unpack the groceries and put them away in the kitchen.

    "I want to cook this evening!" little Harry announced,
    "Do you want to help me with cooking and eat with us, John?"

    "I'm not sure..." John answered hesitantly,
    "Because my mother will be back from town around four o'clock; and she hasn't seen me since this morning. I am afraid I will not be allowed... but I will see you tomorrow morning, unless my father has another of his bright ideas and makes me do some chores first."

    At that moment, the doorbell rang, and both boys rushed to the front door to open it.
Thomas and Chrissy waited outside, eager to show off their newly bought skateboards:

    "Hi, John and Harry! Are you coming with us? We're going to try out our new boards!"

    "Yes, of course! I will get my own board; and Harry can use Mark's spare board, if he wants..."

    "Of course I'm using Mark's spare board! He already promised me. Bye, Dad!"

    Little Harry offered me a quick hug and a kiss, and went to the door.
Suddenly, he stopped and turned around, with a confused look in his eyes...

    "Sorry..." he muttered, getting a blush in between the colors on his face,
    "Maybe I shouldn't have said that... but I wish you WERE my Dad!"

    He offered me another hug, and followed the others to John's house.

    For the first time in three days, I was happy to be alone.
So much had happened, and I wanted to think everything through first.
My head was filled to the brim with thoughts, and I had to drain them thoroughly before I could be at peace again...

    Three days ago, I was single and living on my own, with enough money to live in my newly bought house in peace for the rest of my life...
All of a sudden, a small Gypsy boy bounced into my existence, and immediately stole my heart and my soul.
Today he even started to call me 'Dad'...

    Why was I so devoted to this boy?
Why was all this happening to me; and, of course, to him?
Who was I, and who was little Harry?
In addition, who was our so dedicated friend, John?
Had we really known each other in our past lives?
How, and when?

    I opened the refrigerator, and took a cold beer to the porch.
In a distance, I heard the voices of the skateboarding children, obviously having a lot of fun.
I recognized the slightly deeper voice of John, who was on the border of puberty; the somewhat hoarse voice of his friend, Thomas; the high-pitched voice of Chrissy; and the clear and pure voice of my boy, resonating in my heart and warming my soul.
I was in LOVE with that boy, but why?

    I liked John. I liked him very much.
The very moment he waved back at me, three days ago, he felt like a dear friend.
When he threw himself onto my lap and cried his heart out, that felt completely natural, as if we were totally at ease with each other.
That's why I told him everything about my life, without any restrictions.
I was absolutely sure I could trust him.

    I was not sure about Mark.
Sometimes, he seemed a bit jealous of little Harry, and I didn't feel a real connection.

    Marrie was like a little mother, always nurturing and caring.
She and little Harry seemed to like each other, and I felt she was a good person.

    Thomas was a real boy, a rascal, always up to something daring and testing the boundaries.
He was the first one who courageously climbed the steps to the porch and approached me, three days ago.
I liked him, but didn't feel a real friendship.

    Chrissy was just a young lady, happy she was allowed to join the club.
She was a bit childish and giggly, but seemed okay.

    Now about little Harry...
The very moment John mentioned his name for the first time, I felt a flow of happiness tingling through my body, and my heart jumped in my chest with pure joy.
Why did I have such strong feelings about my boy?
Why did I have the strange conviction that little Harry and I BELONGED to each other?
It felt as if we had known each other for ages, and were joined again three days ago...
Could this have something to do with one of our 'past lives'?
I didn't really believe in them, but couldn't come up with any other explanation...

    About Jack, the late owner of my house...
He died two months ago, and the family sold the house to me for a very reasonable price.
I had been searching for months, but couldn't find a house that satisfied all my wishes...
Until my eyes fell on a little advertisement in the local papers, and I felt an irresistible urge to phone the unknown realtor.
Within two days, the house belonged to me.
I hired a contractor to make a few minor adjustments; and, two weeks later, I moved to my new residence.
Within a few hours, five children contacted me; and, from that moment, my whole existence turned upside down...

    Why did I feel so in harmony with Jack?
I had seen him in my mind and in my dream, a couple of times.
He looked around fifty years old, with bright brown eyes and a warming smile.
In some way, he reminded me of my own little brother, Joshie, with whom I had that same feeling of being in harmony with each other.
He also looked like sort of a grown-up version of John. John and he could have been father and son...
How strange...

    "Dad, look at me!" a familiar voice called me out of my reveries.

    Little Harry enthusiastically waved at me, skating with a lot of bravery.
Of course, he had to show off when he saw me, trying to perform a couple of difficult tricks.
He nearly fell over, but succeeded in keeping his balance.
He grinned at me sheepishly, and went on.
John, Thomas, and Chrissie followed him, and all of them disappeared around a corner...

    Where was that shy little boy, who always tried to hide from the neighborhood, and only secretly slipped to his friends through the backyards?
I was very pleased to see how he had improved in a day's time!
Now he radiated power and self-esteem, and he played just like every other 'normal' boy.
I was very proud of him!
And, again, he called me 'Dad'...

    I realized I knew absolutely nothing about him.
Did he attend school? A 'normal' school; or maybe a special school for handicapped children?
Did he have any hobbies?
Did he have any plans for his future?
John mentioned that little Harry had to visit the hospital within a week; but where, and when, and who would pay for his operations?
I decided to have a talk with Eric and Trudy as soon as possible...

    Who did little Harry belong to in reality?
Did he have any known relatives?
The most important question of all was, was there any chance I could adopt him as my own son?
That little word, 'Dad', had stirred something deep within me, a profound longing to be really connected to my little soul mate.
A strong wish, to be a REAL father to my boy...

    Suddenly, the joyful sounds of playing children changed.
Somebody shouted, and I heard some swearing and name-calling.
A slightly older voice started to curse, and I heard some screaming and yelling.
Within a few seconds, four children rounded the corner and rushed to my house, clutching their skateboards under their arms...

    "That son of a bitch!" John cursed, while he sat down next to me on the porch, breathing heavily.

    "I kicked him in the nuts, and he screamed like a pig!" Thomas proudly announced, while he sat down next to John.

    "I jumped up and punched his nose!" Chrissy giggled, while she sat down next to me on my other side.

    Little Harry silently nestled onto my lap, and I put my arms around him.
He melted into me and started to sob...

    "He is always pestering Harry and calling him names, with his big mouth and his bad manners," John raged.

    He threw his skateboard somewhere onto the porch, without looking where it landed:

    "But I will GET him! Next time I will take a baseball bat with me!"

    They told me what had happened, filling in each other's story:
Two streets away, a certain Jason, a sixteen-year-old 'big boy', left his house without looking where he went.
Little Harry couldn't stop his skateboard in time, and bumped into him.
The boy kicked little Harry off his board, threatened him, and called him a 'freaky alien'.
John didn't take that, took his own skateboard, and forcefully hit the boy on his head.
The boy cursed and threw himself at John, but Thomas stepped in and kicked him in the nuts, while Chrissy jumped up and punched his nose.
The boy fell down and started to cry; and they left the battlefield and hurried to me...

    "Harry is bleeding!" Chrissy told me, looking a bit worried.

    I looked him over carefully...
Everything seemed to be all right, except for a small flesh wound on his knee and a big dent in his self-esteem...
John rushed inside; and soon returned with a wet cloth, a bottle of iodine, and a band-aid.
He cleaned little Harry's knee carefully, put a drop of iodine into the wound, which caused a sharp intake of breath, and administered the band-aid like a professional.
I took my clean handkerchief out of my pocket, and carefully dried little Harry's eyes.
    Suddenly, he jumped up, and grinned at his friends:

    "You really GOT him, and he was a BIG boy too! Wow, thank you! Now I owe you one..."



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.
The 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.