Date: Fri, 8 Apr 2005 20:25:09 +0200 From: hadjo Subject: harry-2 English is not my native language, so please have some consideration... Scenario: Me, Harry, 65 years young, divorced and retired, sitting on the porch of my new residence. Jack, former owner of the house, died a few months ago. Had a little friend 'Harry'. John, 13 years old, with his brother Mark 11 and his sister Marrie 10. Their friends Thomas 12 and Chrissy 9. Talking about little Harry, 8 years old, severely burnt two years ago. His parents, gypsies, both died in the fire and John's parents looked after him; but he spent most of his time at Jack's. Chapter 1 ended with: "Harry," John addressed me without looking at me, " there's something else we need to tell you. Little Harry is burnt really very severely. Even in his face. Everyone in the village calls him a freak and an alien..." Chapter 2. They all waited with anxious trepidation for my reaction... and I really wasn't sure how to react to THIS. What should I say or explain to them? This sure wasn't what I had expected... a freak with a burnt face. Now I started to understand the uncertain reactions of the children and what they told me about Jack and little Harry. Why I please should be kind to him and not chase him away... he is a severely burnt freak and an alien... what the hell should I do now? Lord help me!!! I shivered and stood up slowly from the porch. Avoiding five pairs of eyes I went into the house and closed the door behind me. This is too much for me! I can't deal with this for the second time! I came here for my retirement, and not to be saddled up with a crippled freak again... "Damned!" I shouted into the empty room, "why me? Why again?" I slumped onto the coach and sat down with my head in both hands. Why me again... I was fourteen years old and my younger brother Josh was barely eight. My parents were on a visit somewhere in the neighborhood and I was reading some kind of comical book. My little brother was playing in his own room, as usual. Everything was silent and peaceful. Suddenly my little brother started to scream and rushed into my room with his clothes and hair on fire. He had tried to lit a candle and something went awfully wrong... and I didn't know what to do. First I took him into the bathroom and put him under the showers to extinguish the fire. After that I tried to peel off his burnt clothes but some skin came off too and he screamed louder and louder. And I didn't know where my parents were... Suddenly I remembered the emergency-number and rushed to the phone. After ten very long minutes an ambulance came with a howling siren and they took my brother with them to the hospital. After five months my little brother came back to us, a crippled freaky alien. Both his hands were reduced to little stumps, he breathed through some tube in his throat and he couldn't speak any more. His face was like a mask with a few dark holes in it, no more hair on his head and no eyelashes at all. My parents blamed everything on me and I had to take him with me every time wherever I went, and where I came they stared at him and they called him a freak and an alien... Fortunately for him and for me after a few months he died and went to heaven. He was burnt in his face; but I am still burnt in my soul! I certainly can NOT stand another boy like little Joshie around... not yet! After a while I pulled myself together and went back to the porch, but the children were gone. The street was empty, very empty as was my soul. I sat back on the porch again and started to think back. I loved my little brother, I really loved him. Joshie was my little shadow, where I went he followed me. When I was out he went to the neighbors to play with his friend, but when I was home he was home too. He didn't bother me, he just always was there, quietly playing in his room or sitting at the table. There was no television of course, sometimes we both listened to the radio or we played a game together until it was his time to go to bed. My parents were always busy or out somewhere. They trusted me enough to leave us alone from the time I was barely twelve years old and little Josh was six. It was never a problem, it seemed we were always in harmony with each other. Until he died. There was a feeling, something in the air, as if somebody was watching me. I looked around but couldn't detect who or what it was. It certainly wasn't creepy or so, but on the contrary it was rather reassuring. As if everything was OK now. I dreamed away again... Suddenly another feeling appeared, this time from the back of the garden. I was sure I saw there some movement too! My first thought was: that's one of the children. But why should they hide themselves without a reason? Then I had my second thought: that might be Harry! I tried not to look too obvious, hoping he would show more of himself, and after a while I was sure there was some movement again. Now I thought I saw a pair of small eyes furtively peeking through the bushes. There he was! I smiled and waved, there was a rushing sound and he was gone. Damn! I blew it. I went into the house and tried to unpack some of the piled boxes, but my thoughts were with that little fellow peeking through the bushes and freaking out. Why did I leave those children alone so suddenly, what would they think of me now? Did they already tell little Harry about me? Will he now be afraid of me? Or was he just curious? Will I see him again? Where are they living? Where is that little Harry living? Shall I go for a walk in the neighborhood, hoping to see one of the children and make my excuses to them? I stayed home... That night I had a nightmare. It was a very dark night and along the road there was a small caravan. Two men suspiciously headed for the caravan and threw some liquid at it, followed by a burning match. Within a few seconds everything was on fire. Someone shouted and suddenly a little boy came running out of the door, burning like a torch. He screamed and screamed and I tried to help him, but my feet were stuck in the mud and I couldn't move. I woke up trembling with a shock, and just before I was totally awake I clearly heard a voice somewhere in my head saying: "He NEEDS you." And I knew it was the voice of Jack, the former owner of the house, but don't ask me how. I just did feel him around me and it was a rather reassuring feeling. Not creepy at all. That morning I was stacking another pile of boxes away when suddenly the doorbell rang. Outside was a very nervous John, looking up to me with fear and a lot of pain in his eyes. "M... may I come in and have a talk with you please?" "Of course! I am glad to see you for I really need to talk to you too. Please come in!" Unsure he followed me to the kitchen where we both sat down at the kitchen table. "What do you want: tea, coffee or chocolate milk?" "Er... can I have some milk please without the chocolate?" "Of course you can. Maybe you could help yourself from the fridge?" He poured himself a glass of milk and I took my second cup of coffee. "I really want to apologize for my behavior yesterday!" I opened the conversation. And I told him everything. I told him about my little brother Joshie burning his hair and his clothes while trying to lit a candle, me panicking and the ambulance taking him away. I told him about visiting a very white silent mummy every day in the hospital where they tried to rescue him and after five months his coming back home as a muted cripple. I told him about my parents blaming me for his ordeal and imposing on me to take him with me when and where I went. I told him about all the eyes staring at us and the words 'freak' and 'alien' being used by nearly everyone. And finally I told him about his death five months later and about my guilt and all the shame and the still lasting fire in my soul... Suddenly I felt two small arms around my waist, and we both cried. I pulled him closer and John trustfully settled himself onto my lap, still sobbing. "Thank you little fellow for listening to me and comforting me," I said after a while, "I really needed that talk after yesterday and after the nightmare I had tonight." "You are very welcome sir, and I needed YOU too!" John answered, "I was soo afraid..." and we cuddled again until John had to go to the toilet. "I told Harry everything about you," John started after taking a second glass of milk, "but somehow he already knew what happened yesterday and what you did." "So he was spying on us yesterday?" I laughed. "I suppose so," John answered, "for he is really good at spying! He told me you discovered him in the bushes and wove at him; but he freaked out and rushed away." "Yeah, I know. I thought I had blown everything..." I answered. "No, you didn't! Now he knows at least you are not freaking out and you care about him! But he is very, very afraid of being disappointed. You know, Jack was everything to him. Officially he lives in our house, but in reality he lived with Jack. He had his own room with all his clothes there, Jack bought him everything he needed, Jack comforted him when he had to go back to the hospital for another surgery and visited him there every day. Jack was his father, his mother and his very best friend all in one." He sat back with teary eyes and now and then took a sip of his milk. "He has to go back to the hospital again next week," John continued after a while. "They are trying to give him a new nose and artificial lips this time. He has been in hospital a couple of times before, but never before he was so scared! He misses Jack really bad. Jack always cheered him up and let him see the positive side of everything. But two months ago in the middle of the night Jack sent him in a hurry to our house to wake my parents, for he didn't feel too well. By the time they arrived he was dead with a big smile on his face. As if he knew he did the right thing by sending Harry away..." John took another sip of his milk and stared into a wide distance. "Since that time Harry lives with us and he sleeps in my room. Every night he crawls into my bed. It is a secret and nobody else should know this, but he used to sleep in Jack's bed every night. Tonight he told me he can feel Jack around sometimes and Jack approves of the new owner of the house, that's you." John looked at me with fear in his eyes. How would I react to this? I nodded. "Yesterday I could feel Jack around me and in a way it was very comforting. Tonight I had a nightmare and after that I heard the voice of someone I just knew it was Jack. He only said a few words: 'He needs you!'. I am glad for little Harry that he can feel his big friend watching for him too." John nestled himself into my lap again and I threw my arms around him. "I am soo glad!" he said after a while, "for I really like my poor little brother. And I really, really hope you and he will be friends. He needs a big friend in his life, he just can't cope without." We were both silent for a moment. "John," I said with a shivering voice, "please will you bring your little brother to me? Perhaps it is better when you first tell him everything I told you about my youth and about my little brother. After that you might let him think it over for a while; and then please bring him here. Don't give him a chance to freak out again. Please..." John turned around and all of the sudden he gave me a big kiss on my mouth. "Thank you!" he said with teary eyes, "thank you so very much." He put the empty glass on the dresser and the rest of the milk back in the fridge. After that he was gone and I went back to my stack of boxes. Suddenly I could feel Jack. It was as if I really could see him! About fifty years old, bright eyes and a very warm and big smile. He nodded his approval. "Thank you! You did the right thing." I thought to hear somewhere in my head. "I will do the best I can," I promised him in my thoughts. "I know. I trust you," came his answer and he disappeared, leaving me behind rather confused... Was this for real or did I make everything up? Half an hour later suddenly the bell rang again. Outside the house stood six little children. The five I already knew from yesterday; and a very small sixth one shyly hiding behind them... ------- Chapter 3 will follow shortly, probably within a week. Thank you for your support. And I really love your emails! A short example from one email: "I just read your first chapter and enjoyed it very much. You are a good storyteller and know how to tell a tale of love and tenderness. Please do not feel embarrassed about your English. Yes, it is obvious that you are not a native speaker of English. But your errors are only slight and they do not interfere with understanding. I think you have quite a good grasp of English. And, I have heard that it is a most difficult language to learn." Please send your comments or hints how to go on to my mailbox: harry@hadjo.nl and thank you very much for reading my first story in the English language. My native language is Dutch (Nederlands) and I am living in Holland.