- 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

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

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 3 ended with:

    From now on, I was able to crawl around in our caravan, and nothing was safe from me.
I was very curious, and crawled around everywhere to have a look at everything I could reach or touch.
My parents had to put everything away that could be opened, put into my mouth, or demolished.
They couldn't leave me alone for a moment...
Fortunately, they loved me deeply, and never complained about their maybe a little bit too nosy little son.

    Now and then, Michail took care of me while my parents had to be somewhere else.
I loved those times, when I could be together with my Big Friend!
Sometimes, his girlfriend accompanied him, but I felt she didn't really like me...
Maybe, she was a bit jealous of all the attention Michail and I were paying each other?
She never paid me much attention herself; and left everything to Michail, even changing my diaper.
I certainly didn't protest, and always crawled towards Michail when I needed or wanted something.
Michail didn't protest either...

     A few months later, everybody was stunned about what had to be the youngest genius ever who could walk on his own...
To me, a fascinating new world opened up, full of interesting things and sudden surprises.
My proud parents took me outside, where I looked in and under everything, and tried out all the things that possibly could move or open.
My worried mother followed me desperately, trying to stop me from putting living ants into my mouth or grabbing burning branches from our campfire.
    My Dad just laughed, and told my Mom to let me have a bit more freedom:

    "Our son has to learn from his experiences, and he's certainly clever enough not to make the same mistake twice."

    I had the fun of my life, and toddled around everywhere to have a closer look at all those interesting things that were calling my immediate attention.
I tried to climb the steps to one of the caravans, and promptly fell off them.
Of course I started to cry, not from the pain but from the sudden surprise.
My Mom tried to comfort me, but I was already on my way to look at another interesting object…
    My Dad laughed at me, and tenderly ruffled my hair:

    "See? Now he has learned from his experience, and I bet the next time our little brainiac will be more careful!"

    Two minutes later, I fell off the steps to the next caravan.
Now I had a swelling lump on my head, but who cares…
I had FUN, and was already on my way to another interesting object!

    Another thing I discovered extremely fast was talking, and soon I was like a wandering question mark.
The words I loved and used most, were 'why' and 'what', closely followed by 'how come'…
My curiosity was insatiable, and my bright brain wanted to understand everything.
    Many times, I drove my parents, and all the others in our camp, to despair:

    "Why does my Mom have blue eyes and light hair, and how come most others have brown eyes and dark hair?"

    "That's because your Mom comes from a far away country in the North. Your Dad brought her here a few years ago."

    "What's a 'country'? Why did my Dad bring her here? How come I look like my Mom and not like my Dad?"

    My parents tried to tell me about other places, not surrounded by mountains, where other people lived under different circumstances.

    "When are we going to those other 'countries'? I want to visit them all!"

    "Maybe when you are old enough to travel with us..."

    "Why am I not old enough now? Look at me; I'm already a big boy!"

    My parents laughed at me and ruffled my hair, but I was a bit angry.
Why did I have to wait for so long? I wanted to discover our world NOW!
I was very bright and able to understand everything they told me, so why didn't they take me to those 'other countries'?
I still needed them, because I was too immature to go there on my own, but just wait until I am old enough to go on a trip myself...

    Michail had finally married his girlfriend, after she told him she was pregnant.
They decided to wait for another couple of months, until the pregnancy would be visible.
Then, they would let everybody know, as a surprise…

    One day, they were in our caravan, sitting together on our couch.
Of course, I was wriggling around on Michail's lap and enjoying his attention.
    I had already looked at her belly for a couple of times, and suddenly I blurted:

    "Why do you have TWO kids in your stomach?"

    She veered up, looking at me as if she saw an alien from another planet:

    "How for heaven's sake do YOU know I'm pregnant? And why do you think I'm carrying TWO children?"

    I was shocked by her sudden outburst, and started to cry.
I was absolutely sure, as I could clearly see them with my inner eye!
Both of them were boys, and now I saw another thing too...
A dark cloud surrounded their mother, as if something terrible was going to happen to her.
I refused to answer her questions and buried my face into Michail's chest, sobbing loudly.

    After a couple of months, two babies were born.
They were twins, but didn't resemble each other at all.
Michi was the first-born, and he was nearly two inches taller than his brother Movi, who was a bit chubby and had more and darker hair.
Both of them were healthy and they immediately started to cry, but unfortunately their mother was severely bleeding and it wouldn't stop.
Michail rushed her to a hospital in town, where she died a couple of hours later.

    Fortunately for us, she didn't die in our camp, as we would have had to leave our secluded place and move on.
Our belief forbade us to live in the same place where one of us had died.
That's why we lived in our caravans, always ready to move on if necessary.

    Michail was inconsolable, and cried for many days.
Every day, he visited our caravan, but the only thing he did was sit and sniffle.
At last, I decided to help him stop moping and pull himself together...
    I crawled onto his lap, and put my arms around his neck:

    "Michail, you are like my second Dad, and since a couple of days I am missing you! You have two sons now, I have two little brothers, and I am sure both of them are missing you too! You are neglecting me, and I don't want you to neglect your own little boys either..."

    Michail looked at me for a long time; until, slowly, his reddish eyes started to live again.
Finally, he nodded his head, and left our caravan without saying a word.
Ten minutes later, he was back, carrying two small boys in his arms.
He sat them down between the pillows on our couch, and proudly smiled at the three of us.

    From that time on, we were together again, and I had my Big Friend back.
Michail looked after me when my parents had to go somewhere, and now he really was a second father to me.
I loved him even more; and tried to play with my little brothers, but they were way too small and no fun at all.

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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 to be 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.

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