- Harry AnderS -
Dutch psychotherapist and alternative writer


The wonderful adventures of a little Gypsy boy

Born as a Prince 1
Book 1: Heir to the Throne
- by Harry AnderS -

A children's series of stories



In book 1 'Heir to the Throne'; a little Gypsy boy narrates the story of his first five years in a secluded place in the Rumanian mountains, surrounded by huge woods and dense forests.
He is the Heir to the Throne, and soon he will be our Chief Cook(ie) and a Real Trapper...

Book 2 'Our Lucky Mascot' will follow; where he discovers the gadjo world outside, is imprisoned during a police raid, has his own little snow scooter, and finally travels to foreign countries...


Chapter 11 ended with:

    That evening, we had a real feast, having all of us gathered around our campfire.
Our violin players played wonderful melodies, full of joy and longing.
Several people started to dance, the children climbed from lap to lap to be held and feel safe, and everybody had lots of fun.
Misha had a little dance with Biny; and, soon, both of them started to fool around, leaving us bellowing with laughter.
We were having a really good time!

    At last, I was too sleepy to keep my eyes open, and asked my Mom to put me to bed in our caravan.
My Mom washed me, draped the blankets around me, and tenderly kissed me good night.
Within a few minutes, I was sound asleep.

    That night, I dreamed of a gadjo town where I chased away all the nasty inhabitants, just by spitting at them!
I went home, carrying lots of money; to buy many bags of delicious foods and nice looking clothes for all of us...


Chapter 12. A police raid, and I'm staring down a real police officer.

    The next morning, the rain was pouring down, and nobody wanted to enter our soaking woods.
We huddled together, next to our smoldering and hissing campfire, under a provisional shelter a few grown-ups had built from a couple of stakes and a piece of plastic.
Everything felt clammy and damp; and, now and then, we shivered involuntarily.
We munched on a couple of delicious gadjo leftovers and played silly games, trying to dispel our boredom...
Fortunately, the raining in our mountains never lasted very long.
After some time, slowly the sky started to clear up.

    Suddenly, a whole bunch of police cars with howling sirens showed up and overflowed our camp.
Several police officers jumped out of them, staring at us with strained faces...
One of the officers saw our group of huddling children, and marched towards us.
    He dragged one of our frightened boys from under our shelter, and barked:

    "Where is your leader? Bring him to me immediately."

    Before the shocked boy could answer, Michail stepped out of his caravan and shouted to the officer:

    "What is the problem, officer? What are you looking for?"

    "You KNOW what the problem is, and we want you to take us to your leader immediately."

    "Your leader is here, and I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about!"

    "Then, I will refresh your memory. Yesterday, a couple of your Gypsies raided one of our towns, and snatched away everything valuable they could lay their hands on. Now, we want to ask you a couple of questions..."

    "Yes, we WERE visiting a nearby town yesterday; to beg for money and food, because our kids are starving. However, we did NOT steal or thieve anything. I am very offended by your accusations, and I want you to apologize for even thinking such an abominable thing!"

    I listened to their conversation; and grinned inwardly, because Michail didn't lie at all...
Our real leader WAS here, looking at the officers from a safe distance.
I winked at my Dad, being our real Leader and our King, and he winked back at me.
We understood each other...

    Michail HAD been visiting a nearby town, yesterday; to accompany our begging children.
Neither he, nor any of our kids, did steal or thieve anything, so he didn’t lie to the officer.
I wondered what those harshly looking police officers would do now.
In my eyes, they looked just like clowns in their strange costumes, with their rude and almighty behavior...

    A couple of our men were surrounding the officers by now, while my Dad carefully kept a small distance.
HE was our real Leader, but nobody had to know he was!
He saw me, furtively winked again, and I winked back at him unseen by the officers.
Again, we understood each other without words.
I would not betray him!

    The officer, who had questioned Michail, looked even angrier now, and told him:

    "Let us see what you've gathered yesterday, and remember we don't have all day's time!"

    Michail went to his truck, got a couple of paper bags, and showed them to the officer:

    "That's everything we got from the begging yesterday, except for a couple of things we already feasted on yesterday evening and this morning."

    Most bags were halfway filled with the food our kids had gathered; and another smaller bag contained some paper money.
The officer looked at the bags, and didn't seem to be satisfied at all.
    Suddenly he barked:

    "Oh yeah? Well, we will find out soon enough... You, and you, and you, you will enter our cars, and remain there until we are satisfied."

   The other officers marched on, and pushed several of our men into their police cars.
They told them harshly to be silent, and closed the doors.
My Dad was amongst them, and furtively looked at me through the back pane...
Again, he winked at me, clearly telling me to keep the secret a secret and do nothing to give him away.
I winked back at him, unseen by the officers, and smiled.
He could count on me!

    All our other people had to leave their caravans, and stay outside in the still dribbling rain.
Now, lots of officers entered every single caravan rudely, without even bothering to properly wipe their feet!
They started to rummage through our private belongings, muttering and making quite a mess.
Of course, they didn't find anything of value; and after a while, they returned empty-handed.

    The waiting officer started to look more and more nasty.
Impatiently, he waited until the last searching officer showed up and shrugged...
    Suddenly, he went back to our group of children, and pointed to one of our smaller girls:

    "You, you tell us where your parents have hidden the stolen goods. Where is your secret place or hidden cave?"

    The poor girl nearly fainted, started to tremble all over, but managed to bring out:

    "We don't have such a thing, sir. Honestly! We don't hide anything..."

    She didn't lie at all; as, of course, the gathered things weren't here any more!
We didn't have any secret places or hidden caves either.
They were just caves, but you had to look very careful to be able to find them...
None of our kids would ever betray where they were; being afraid or not!
Our parents could always count on us, and they knew it.

    Suddenly, the nasty officer turned to ME, and beckoned me over.
Obviously, he thought, because I was the smallest kid in our group, I would also be the most vulnerable one...
Well, he was in for a surprise.
If he had known me a bit better, he would have thought twice!
    He showed me his filthy teeth, in a futile effort to smile:

    "Little boy, please, help me. I am looking for the things the grown-ups brought here yesterday. Where did they put them away?"

    I looked at him in disdain; straightened my back; and, without any hesitance, stepped forward towards him.
Using all my inner power, I tried to stare him down, as I had done many times before in our own group.
Now and then, our kids had a staring contest; and the first one who averted his eyes, was a chicken.
I wasn't very good at it; because, amongst my friends, I had always been the smallest little runt, and I couldn't be angry with them...

    However, now I was VERY angry; and I could feel my inner power building up and soaring high.
That gross and brutal officer had to keep his filthy hands off our private properties!
He had NO right to rummage in our belongings, or even enter our caravans without being invited!
    I took another step forward, looked up, and stared straight into his nasty eyes:

    "I am NOT your little boy! I am a real trapper, so you will have to address me accordingly. You did already look at the things my friends gathered yesterday. What more are you looking for? Now, don't be stupid, leave us alone, and maybe one day you could start to catch REAL crooks."

    I sensed my eyes were shooting daggers, and I held on staring him down with all my force.
I knew I was right and he was wrong, and that was giving me even more Royal Power.
This time, Prince little runt would win!

    The officer looked surprised, hesitated, and obviously didn't know how to cope with my shortage of respect.
Desperately, he tried to regain his posture...
He tried to say something; but I continued to stare him down, forcefully willing him to give up.
I saw how he started to fidget, and his face went red.
Suddenly, he stepped back and averted his eyes.

Today, I won the staring contest with a real police officer!
From now on, nobody would EVER call me a 'little cookie' again!
The little runt did WIN!

    The officer turned around, red-faced, and left our group of children without looking back.
He beckoned his companions to follow him, not daring to utter another word...
All the officers entered their cars and drove off, taking our captured men with them.
After a few seconds, our camp was dead silent.
As on purpose, even the rain stopped...

    A couple of grown-ups raced to their own cars and followed the police officers, keeping a small distance.
They would try to see what happened to our men and to our beloved Leader, aka my Dad.
If necessary, they would defend him with their own lives!
However, for the moment, they didn't want those police officers to know they had caught our real King as well...

    Everybody was devastated, and all of us slumped down onto the wooden benches surrounding our campfire.
What would those nasty officers do to our fathers, uncles, and friends?
Would they torture them, or press them to confess?
Would we ever see them back alive, supposed they survived?
Many children started to cry, and many grown-ups had tears in their eyes as well.
We remembered our stories from the past, telling us about cruel witch-hunts, when our people were tortured and hung, only because they had done nothing except for trying to survive...

    During the remainder of the day, we waited, stared at our campfire, and comforted each other.
Now and then, a few kids went into our woods to have a look at their traps; but, every time, they returned quickly and empty-handed.
They gave us a questioning look, and we shook our heads looking sad.
We had no news...

    One time, Misha and I went into our woods together, to look after our traps.
Nothing was in our snares, and we set them up along other trails.
    Misha threw his arms around me, looking at me with tears in his eyes:

    "I'm sorry for you, and I hope your father will return soon. I know how it is to live without a Dad..."

    I knew that Misha had lost his own Dad a couple of years ago, due to a slipping caravan tumbling into a steep ravine.
We cried together, until we silently returned to our camp and sat down.
The others sadly shook their heads...


    Slowly, the sun disappeared behind our mountains, and the air became chilly.
We tried to eat a couple of delicacies from the paper bags, but none of us were hungry...
It was no fun to munch on those delicious things; while maybe, at the same time, our own men were being tortured or worse.
We took a few bites, and put the remainders away with a sour face.

    Suddenly, we heard a couple of cars approaching our camp!
All of us rose to our feet as one man, to have a better look...
The car doors opened, and our men stumbled to our campfire, looking dead tired but happy to be home...

    I wrestled through the turmoil, until I found my Dad.
I jumped up, let him catch me, and octopushed myself onto his chest, sobbing loudly.
My Dad threw his strong arms around my waist and almost crushed me, but I didn't mind at all.

    Everybody gathered around our campfire, and many tears were mingling together.
Fortunately, nobody was harmed, except for maybe a dent in a couple of self-esteems.
Slowly, the men recovered, being fed our delicacies and buckets of fresh coffee.
After a while, they started to tell us what had been happening to them.

    Michail told us how all those stupid police officers blindly assumed he would be our real Leader.
They took him into another room, and started to question him about the Gypsy raid in a far away town.
Michail told them everything they wanted to know about the begging in the nearby gadjo town, but they didn't really believe him...

    Our other men were separated, and interrogated in other rooms.
All of them told the officers the same things: they had done nothing questionable, and didn't know what the officers were talking about.
The officers couldn't prove anything; and, after many hours of trying to get a confession, they finally let the men go.
However, they threatened to put them into jail for a long time, the next time a town had been raided...

    The moment our men left the police station, our waiting cars pulled up, invited them in, and took them home safely.

    Again we had a Big Feast, and now the gadjo foods suddenly tasted more than delicious!
All of us filled our stomachs to the brim, and burped loudly to thank the gadjo's for their nice food.
We danced and frolicked around, until the rising sun started to glow around our mountaintops and we were dead tired.

    I can vaguely remember Michail putting me to bed...



Thank you for reading the next chapter of my story 'Born as a Prince 1'.
This is the first book of the series, called 'Heir to the Throne'. Many more books will follow...
Enjoy the reading, and help us make our world a better place!

Have a look at my OTHER story, about a retired psychotherapist taking the now eight years old and severely burnt little Gypsy boy into his house and raising him.
The story is on Nifty in adult-youth, contains NO sex, and is callled: 'Born to be a King'...

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.