Date: Sun, 24 Jul 2005 11:42:55 +0200 From: Harry Anders Subject: 'Little Harry' 00. I dedicate this book to my little shadow. This is the prelude: I dedicate this book to my little shadow. My little neighbor boy is fervently playing outside with a couple of friends. The moment he sees me he immediately leaves everybody behind and he races to me with a joyous smile from ear to ear. From a distance he shouts: "Hey neighbor! What are you going to do?" His eyes start to radiate and you can feel what he certainly favors now: completely melt into me and get a whole lot of attention. At full speed he approaches me, but at a small distance he suddenly slows down with confusion on his face and a moment later he stops. Shyly he looks up, shuffling his feet. Obviously this child has been instilled with the superstition that every male is a dangerous stranger, even when this particular male is the neighbor man who has been living here for ages and has his small practice in the same street as a freelance psychotherapist specialized in helping problem children. Hesitantly he shuffles closer and suddenly he pushes himself against me, at the same time dreading his own courage and furtively looking around. Did his parents see what he wasn't supposed to do? Worriedly he shuffles back and he follows me to the front door where he impatiently waits until I have found the key and open the door. The moment the door is open he teasingly thrusts himself past me and now he blocks the entrance with a naughty look in his beaming eyes and spreading his arms across the doorposts. His eyes also show a hint of fear: perhaps he is too impertinent this time and now I will reject him? There also is a lot of trust in his eyes. In his heart he knows I will accept his audaciousness. I smile and ruffle his hair and with a deep sigh he contently melts into me. I put my arms around him and suddenly he is beaming, no longer afraid of what others will say for of course in this situation of teasing and romping bodily contact is allowed... I tickle his ribs and he tries to tickle me back. That's not very clever for now I am able to push him aside and enter my house. Every time he performs the same act. It's like a small ritual we are playing over and over. Perhaps playing out small rituals is giving this boy some steadiness in his life? I enter my hallway and he stays outside, craning his neck to look inside. I can feel his longing to have a look at where I live, but he is a very obedient child and his parents obviously don't allow him to enter the house of a stranger. Strangers are dangerous... so he stays outside and he doesn't dare to cross the doorstep. But now he plays out another of his small rituals: he starts asking questions. "Where were you today, what are you going to do, do you have to go away again, why are you alone, did you have clients?" It's like the twenty questions quiz and all questions have only one purpose: postpone our inevitable separation. Every time he manages to think of a new question and I grant him the pleasure until eventually he can't think of another question and just longingly stares at me. For the last time I ruffle his hair and I tell him I have some work to do. He looks disappointed, waits until I have closed the door and shuffles back to his friends. We know each other, my little neighbor boy and I. In the course of the years I developed my 'paranormal' capabilities to assist me in helping people; and that's why I can remember a couple of my past lives on earth. In one of those lives he was my youngest brother, somewhere in ancient England. We lived in a small village in the country where everything smelled of factory and charcoal. Dad only was home to eat and sleep, mom worked the whole day to keep everything clean and tidy. Our life was difficult and we were very poor. I was the first born of six little children and he was our youngest sibling. I always nurtured him and he attached himself to me as my little shadow. Where I went, he went... We lost contact when he was fifteen years old and I married a girl from another village. I bought us a small cottage somewhere and established my own family. He already felt too old to show his tears but I know he missed me. I too missed my little shadow, though I really loved my wife and my own children. A few years ago my little shadow suddenly appeared in the street where I live now and he immediately recognized me. Our street is always loaded with children but he is the only one who always happily runs to me when he sees me. Of course he can't remember me as his deceased big brother, for our brains from our past lives are gone, they are buried or burnt. Our new brains can't contain any remembrance of our past lives, but in our unconscious feelings everything is stored from all our lives. He certainly feels the special connection he and I have and every time he sees me he feels happy. However... in this life all of the sudden I am a 'stranger' to him so he should be wary and keep a safe distance... and now you can imagine he is a very confused little boy. A couple of years ago there wouldn't be a problem: he would accompany me into my house and I would show him where I live. After a while I would invite his parents to have a look at where their child sometimes spends his time and perhaps now and then I even would babysit him. He and I both would be happy with each other. But that's not allowed any more. These days children are pervaded with the belief that grownups are dangerous and you can best evade them. Children do have a natural capability of feeling who can be trusted and who not, unless that capability is poisoned by fear. Fear is a very bad advisor! One time our children were imprinted with fear of the bogeyman; and nowadays the bogeyman is called 'pedo'... I dedicate this book 'Little Harry' to my little shadow. Perhaps once he will read the Dutch translation and recognize me... Harry AnderS, alternative writer. Thank you for reading my stories and thanks to Nifty for hosting them. The rewritten story is available on http://www.harryanders.com Please join our forum on http://forum.harryanders.com Please send your remarks to harry@harryanders.com