- 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 4 ended with:

    "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.


Chapter 5. Still too small, and too young to be our Chief Cookie?

    Every morning, I stared longingly at the other kids, when they went into the woods surrounding our camp.
Near the end of the day, they returned in a cheerful mood, carrying several small animals they had caught, or carrying baskets filled with delicious fruits.
They divided the fruits among us, and roasted the animals on stakes over the campfire, to eat them when they were ready.
I so wanted to be with them, and join them into our woods!
Unfortunately, I had to wait until I would be dry during the night and no longer needed my diapers...

    I tried to force my body to warn me in time, but every morning I woke up being soaking wet, and I hated myself for that.
Why was I such a little runt? Why did my body have to be so... immature?
I knew my brain was developing very fast, but why didn't my body follow my brain?
Couldn't I force it to grow faster and listen to what I wanted?
    I asked Michail, but he told me to be patient:

    "Be happy to be such a small boy, and enjoy your youth. Soon you will be an old man like me, and then you will be regretting your age..."

    "I WANT to be like you! And I also want to enjoy my youth, by joining the other kids and setting traps in our woods!"

    "I think you’re too intelligent for your age. You're only four years old; but I can talk to you as if you were a grown-up, and you are understanding everything I'm telling you. That's not normal for a boy your age. Other boys your age are playing with small pebbles and sucking on their thumbs..."

    I felt frustrated, hopped off his lap, and went outside to kick a couple of trees.
After my anger had calmed down, I waited for the children, who would soon return from our woods...
I was always waiting around our campfire when they returned, to ask them questions and to listen to their stories.
Many times, I dreamed away while they were talking about their fascinating adventures, when they had chased a pig through the woods or caught a bigger animal in a snare.
Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to help them with the roasting, because I had to catch my own animal first.
I couldn't catch my own animal, because I wasn't allowed to join them.
I wasn't allowed to join them, because I was still wetting my diapers at night...

    Fortunately, my friends always considerately shared their food with their little Prince, who so eagerly wanted to join them.
I was always very particular about the roasted animals, and often remarked things about the taste:

    "Yesterday, your marmot tasted better than today. I think you forgot to add a few of those yellow leaves."

    "How do YOU know? You've never roasted a marmot yourself... but I think you are right, it did taste better yesterday."

    "How about adding a little bit of that greenish moss I showed you last week? That with the strong taste..."

    "I could try some... but if it tastes yucky, you will have to eat the rest of the animal by yourself!"

    "That's okay, but only if you allow me to put some herbs onto the animal and roast it myself!"

    "You know I can't allow you to do that, until you have caught your first own animal..."

    "Then let me join you tomorrow! I know how to make a snare, because Misha showed me how to do it."

    "You know you are not allowed to join us, until you are dry during the night..."

    I was angry, left our campfire, and stamped away to kick our caravan and a couple of trees.
Why did my body have to be so small and immature?
Couldn't I skip a couple of years?

    The next day, I was back early, and went into the bushes to look for some moss and yellow leaves.
Unseen, I collected a couple of herbs that might improve the taste of the roasted animals. At least, I hoped so...
I cleaned the herbs, cut them into small pieces with the help of my Mom's sharp kitchen knife, and carefully mixed them together.
I put the stolen knife back into our kitchen unseen, and impatiently waited for the children to return...

    This time, they brought a big porcupine to our campfire in triumph.
They skinned it, cleaned it out, and put it onto a stake to roast it.
    Now I showed them my nicely smelling herbs mixture:

    "I want you to use my herbs to improve the taste, but first you have to add a few drops of oil."

    "You know you are not allowed to..."

    "Yes, I KNOW I'm still wetting my diapers, but you could at least give it a try!"

    They looked at each other, shuffled their feet, and hesitated...
until one of my friends, Misha, stepped forward and asked them:

    "He IS our Prince, so maybe our rules will not apply to him so strictly? I think we should give him a chance..."

    The others nodded hesitantly, and I was in heaven!

    Misha offered me their bottle of oil, and I mixed a few drops into my herbs mixture to make it sticky.
He handed me a brush; and I smeared the porcupine carefully with my mixture, trembling with pride.
I put a little bit of greenish moss into the animal, together with a few leaves from a nearby tree that smelled good and would accentuate its aroma.

    A couple of bigger boys took the porcupine, and put it on a stake over our campfire to get it roasted.
They turned it around and around, while I smeared it from time to time with the oil and the remainder of my herbs mixture.
Soon, a heavenly aroma caressed the air, making our stomachs grumble aloud. Even the grown-ups sniffed approvingly.
When the animal was ready to be eaten, the bigger boys divided it into chunks, and sliced the chunks into smaller pieces.

    All the kids started to nibble on a piece of porcupine, and now they looked at me with reverence and beaming eyes...
The porcupine turned out to taste really DELICIOUS, much to my relief!
We all marveled at its exquisite taste, had some more, and finally licked our fingers.

    Suddenly, a couple of boys lifted me onto their shoulders, and carried me around the campfire in triumph:

    "From now on you are our Chief Cook. Never before did we taste such delicious meat!"

    I nearly cried with pride, and felt myself grow at least three inches!

    From now on, my task was to collect fresh herbs every day, and I LOVED every part of it.
I seemed to have a natural feeling for what tasted good and what I could put together.
Now and then, it didn't work out and we had to throw away a yucky tasting animal, but who cares?
It was mid-summer, and there were plenty of other small animals to catch as a replacement.
I learned from every new experience, and my skills vastly improved.

    My Mom was a bit angry, when she detected I had 'played' with her sharpest kitchen knife...

    "I have told you that you are way too young to handle such a dangerous thing on your own!"

    "But MOM... I NEEDED a sharp knife, to slice my herbs. I'm our Chief Cook now, and I have to use it tomorrow again! Please..."

    She looked a bit doubtful, but hesitantly offered me another sharp knife that was a bit smaller:

    "I will trust you, but for heaven's sake look out not to cut your fingers instead of your herbs..."

    I looked at her in disdain, took the knife, and went back to our campfire without saying another word.
How COULD she think such a horrible thing!

    That evening, my Dad took me onto his lap, holding me close:

    "You are growing fast, my boy. I can vividly remember the first time your mother told me she was pregnant, and how happy I felt. Now I have you on my lap, and soon you will be married yourself and have children of your own...
    "Your mother told me you are our Chief Cook now, even though you are not yet allowed to leave our camp. Please be careful, and don't think you are allowed to do more than the other kids just because you are a Prince. They allow you to be their cook because you are GOOD at cooking, and you have earned that place.
    "Always do what you are doing in a way that allows you to be proud of yourself, and you will be an excellent King in the future."

    I understood everything he told me, and nodded my approval while I let myself melt even more into his strong arms.
I decided to follow his advice, and always do only those things that would make me proud of myself!

    I could feel my Dad's love radiating towards me, and marveled in the nice feeling of being welcomed and loved, until it was my time to go to bed.
My Dad put my diaper on and playfully tickled my belly, making me squirm.
I kissed my Mom goodnight; and my Dad put me to bed, carefully draping the blankets around my body.
I closed my eyes; and was sound asleep within a few seconds, dreaming of being a big boy and catching my first animal...



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.