Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 01:43:45 +0200
From: Harry Anders <harry@harryanders.com>
Subject: Little Harry 1. That first day of the rest of my life.

It was a beautiful day. The bright sun was shining from a slightly clouded
sky and a subtle breeze comforted every living soul in the neighborhood. It
was the first day of the rest of my life and it also was the first day of
my new life in this small town in the country.

I had done extremely well as a freelance psychotherapist helping problem
children for a couple of years and invested my money wise. Now, at the age
of wisdom (at least I hoped so, being a bright and fairly intelligent
sixty-fiver) I bought this small 'house with a big garden' for a reasonable
price to spend the rest of my life here. The moment I saw the house and the
surroundings I immediately loved it and everything around was offering me
the sensation of being welcomed. The house had been sold by the family of a
single male who passed away two months ago. As far as they told me he had
been living here all on his own for at least twenty years. The house was in
a reasonable condition and I only had to make some minor adjustments to get
the feeling this really could be MY house.

Now I was sitting on the porch of my new residence and contemplated on my
life. My possessions were already stowed away by the movers, the sitting
room was furnished with a couch and two easy chairs, the kitchen was
utilizable and one of the bedrooms accommodated a big water bed to be used
for the night. At two o'clock I lazily called it a day and decided to take
the rest of the day off. I brought a chair to the porch, brew myself a cup
of coffee, closed my eyes and dreamed away...

A couple of years ago my wife and I decided to split our ways. Our two
daughters both were married and lived their own life in another town. We
had no grandchildren to spoil. The last year together we just both lived in
the same house and we even didn't share the bed any more. One evening we
had a long and deep talk and after that the decision was easily made: we
divorced and both went our own way.

My wife moved into another town near her mother and I moved into a nice two
bedroom condo, big enough for a single male. And now I've bought this nice
house to enjoy here my retirement and hopefully the rest of my life. Lazily
I stretched out and dreamed further away.

Soft voices caught my attention, so I recurred from my reveries and slowly
opened my eyes. A couple of children were playing hide and seek and now and
then one of them furtively stared at the house and its new inhabitant. When
they saw I opened my eyes they huddled together and cautiously neared the
fence.

"Are you moving into Harry's house mister?" one of the girls curiously
asked with a soft giggle.

"Of course silly, why else would he sit here with his eyes closed?" a boy
teased her whilst trying to get a better look.

I counted five children, two girls and three boys, imprudent leaning
against the gate which suddenly opened under their pressure with a
squeaking sound. In shock they tumbled over each other, laughing and now
cautiously entering the driveway.

One of the boys suddenly stepped forward, craned his neck and tried to look
past the driveway with a frown on his face.

"Where's Harry? Does he already know there's a stranger living in his
house?"

"Don't know. Last time I saw him he was hiding in the backyards..."

They all looked around and now I was really curious. Were they talking
about the former owner of the house? But he died two months ago... They
talked about 'Harry's house' and that mysterious 'Harry' seemed to be
hiding somewhere in the backyards... Did the former owner have a cat, or
perhaps a dog?

"What are you talking about? Who is that Harry?"

They froze and furtively looked at each other. I invited them over to the
porch and hesitantly they neared me, giggling and pushing each other.

"You are not a child molester?" one of the girls nervously asked, blushing
fiercely.

I smiled and lifted both hands in surrender:

"Promise I won't bite you, at least not today!"

Now they all laughed and neared the porch. Suddenly one of the boys
courageously climbed the steps. They all followed him and within seconds I
was surrounded by five children who I estimated in age from about eight to
around twelve years old. In silence we looked at each other. After a while
I friendly repeated my question:

"Who's that mysterious Harry you were talking about?"

The twelve year old boy suddenly stepped forward, straightened his back and
nervously looked into my eyes.

"This was Jack's house and Harry used to be here all the time. Now he is
devastated and he cries every day for he misses his big friend. Please
mister, will you try to be nice to him and not chase him away? He misses
Jack a lot and we all like him very much."

Did I really see tears in his eyes? So that 'Harry' turned out to be
another boy; and why did I suddenly feel such strong emotions in my own
heart? Strange...

"Please you can tell me more about Harry and his big friend Jack?"

Again they looked at each other, shuffling their feet. After a long silence
the twelve year old boy cleared his throat.  "They loved each other and
they were always together, but we kept it a secret to everyone in the
neighborhood... please don't betray him, for Children's Protection Service
would take him away and again put him in an orphanage and that would break
his heart."

I smiled at him and again lifted both hands in surrender:

"I NEVER would do such a thing to any of you! I promise, cross my heart and
die!"

All of the sudden I had a lap full of boy, crying his heart out. He clamped
his arms around my shoulders and buried his face in my breast, sobbing like
a desperate child. I put my arms around his waist and gently comforted him,
surrounded by the other children who tried to solace their desolate
friend. For a long time we all encouraged each other until at last his sobs
lessened and his grip on my shoulders relaxed. I offered him my
handkerchief to dry his eyes and held him close for another moment until at
last he pulled himself together and timidly looked around.

"I don't have any drinks in the fridge," I told them to break the tension,

"but perhaps I can offer you a cup of tea?"

They agreed and I took the twelve year old boy with me to the kitchen to
wash his face. After a few minutes I went back with a kettle of hot tea and
my twelve year old boy carried a tray with glasses, a box of sugar lumps
and a few spoons. They all settled down on the porch. After we drunk our
tea and put the glasses back onto the tray I decided to ask some more
questions about that mysterious boy Harry that seemed to stir a lot of
emotional feelings in everyone, including myself...

"Now I am really curious! But first I want us to introduce ourselves. To
start with me: my name is Harry."

"Are you serious? You're not pulling our leg?" a surprised girl piped up.

"No, I am serious. My full name is Harry AnderS. Please have a look at my
identity card..."

She blushed, told me I already convinced her and refused to look at my ID.

"My name is John," the twelve year old boy spoke up with fortunately a hint
of a smile on his face,

"and I am thirteen years old. The boy over there is my brother Mark and
he's eleven. This is my sister Marrie and she's ten. That's my friend
Thomas and he's twelve and the girl over there is his sister Chrissy and
she's nine years old."

After a short pause he added:

"Harry is only eight years old and we all are his special friends. He is my
little brother and we always protect him from the others in the
neighborhood."

Hesitantly John told me the story, from time to time filled in by the other
children. Two years ago a car with an attached gypsy caravan populated by a
man, a woman and a six year old boy, stopped in a small clearing along the
road. After a while the gypsy boy approached the children carrying a
jerrycan and asking for water. They took him with them to their neighbor
Jack who was washing his car on the driveway. Jack offered the gypsies
water, food and a couple of used clothes. They all helped him by carrying
everything to the caravan where they were greeted by the grateful parents
who didn't speak the language.

A few inhabitants in the village seemed to dislike gypsies for the next day
in the middle of the night the caravan burnt down. The man and the woman
both perished in the fire, the little gypsy boy barely survived but was
badly burnt all over his body. Of course there was no insurance and Jack
offered to pay everything for the little boy, from hospital treatment to
all medicines and everything else he needed. Month after month he visited
the boy every day, he cheered him up and he taught him our language.

The moment the boy left the hospital children's protection service took
over and placed the boy in an orphanage. Jack broke down and the children
found him in the morning on the driveway next to his car, crying his heart
out. They warned their parents and Jack told them his story of loving the
little gypsy boy from the moment he saw him, buying clothes for him,
nurturing him in the hospital after the fire, comforting him with the loss
of his parents, teaching him the language, building a very strong
relationship with the little orphan; and now they took him away and he
hadn't the slightest idea where his little friend could be...

John's parents immediately contacted children's protection service and
tried to convince them to trust Jack with guardianship over the little boy,
but as a single male living on his own there was no chance he could ever
raise an unrelated six year old boy, befriended or not. At last the parents
and cps reached an understanding: John's parents would take the boy into
their custody and raise him. That's how the little six year old gypsy boy
became John's little brother and the special friend of all neighborhood
children. They protected him from the other children in town, they defended
him when necessary; and above all they kept the secret a secret: little
Harry spent all of his time with his Big Friend Jack in this house. He even
had his own room upstairs, second door on the left. Until two months ago
Jack suddenly died...

Again I got tears in my eyes and I gently hugged all children one by
one. With a quivering voice I assured them little Harry would always be
welcomed in my house and I would even give him his own room back. Of course
they all would always be welcome too; and I would assist them when and
wherever I could...

Suddenly they went very silent and hesitantly looked at each other. After a
while John addressed me without looking up:

"There's something else we need to tell you. Little Harry is burnt very
bad. Even his face is severely distorted. Everyone calls him a freak and an
alien..."

They all looked at me and waited for my reaction... and I froze. I couldn't
help it, suddenly everything came back into my mind. This certainly was not
what I had expected, another freaky alien with a burnt face in my life. Now
I understood the hesitancy of the children and why I please should be nice
to him and not chase him away... he is a severely burnt freak and he looks
like an alien... what the hell should I do now? I certainly couldn't deal
with this a second time...

I shivered and warily stood up from the porch. Avoiding five pairs of
frightened eyes I went into the house and without looking back I closed the
door. This was too much for me! I couldn't deal with this again! I came
here for my retirement, and not to be saddled up again with a crippled
freak...

"Damned!" I shouted into the living room and desperately kicked a chair,

"what did I do wrong? Why me again?"

I slumped onto the coach and sat down with my head in my hands. Slowly all
concealed memories from my youth came back into my mind...

I was fourteen years old and my brother Joshie was barely eight. My parents
were out on a visit somewhere in the neighborhood and I was reading a
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 his hair on fire. He had tried to lit a candle and
something went awfully wrong... and I didn't know what to do. At first I
pulled him into the bathroom and put him under the shower to extinguish the
fire. After a moment 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 I rushed to the phone. After
ten very long minutes an ambulance arrived with a howling siren and they
took my poor little brother with them to the hospital.

After five worrisome months my little brother returned as a crippled freaky
alien. Both hands were reduced to little stumps, he breathed through a tube
in his throat and he couldn't speak any more. His face looked like a mask
with a few dark holes in it. His nose was gone, he had 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 wherever I went, and everybody stared at him and called
him a freak and an alien...

Fortunately for him and for me he died after a few months and went to
heaven. He was burnt in his face; but I am still burnt in my soul! I can
still feel the pain, the shame and all humiliations of that time. I
certainly can NOT stand another boy like little Joshie around... not yet!
Or can I?

I pulled myself together and went back to the porch, but the children were
gone. The street looked very empty, as empty as my own soul. I slumped down
onto the chair 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 sometimes went to the neighbors to play with his
friend, but always 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
and drawing funny things on a piece of paper. 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
twelve years old and little Josh was barely six. It was never a problem, it
seemed we were always in harmony with each other. Until he did something
stupid and died...

There was a feeling, somewhere 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, on the contrary it felt rather reassuring, as if everything
was alright now. Again I started to think back...

Suddenly another feeling appeared, this time from the back of the garden. I
was sure I saw there a little movement. My first thought was: that's one of
the children. But why should they hide themselves in the back of the garden
without a reason?  After a while I had my second thought: that might be
little Harry! I tried not to look too obvious, hoping he would show more of
himself, and after a while I was sure I saw some movement again. I even
thought I saw a pair of small eyes furtively peeking through the
bushes. There he was! I smiled at the bushes and waved, but there was a
rushing sound, the bushes wildly moved and he was gone.

Damn! I blew it.

Disappointed I went into the house and tried to unpack some of the piled
boxes, but my thoughts were with that little scared boy secretly peeking
through the bushes and freaking out when he saw me waving at him. Slowly I
became more and more ashamed of myself. Why did I leave those children
alone all of the sudden, what would they think of me now? Did they already
tell little Harry about me? Will he now be afraid or was he just curious?
Will I see him again?

Where were they living? Where was that little Harry living? I thought about
going for a walk in the neighborhood, hoping to see one of the children and
create an opportunity to make my excuses. But I took the coward's way and
stayed home...

That night I had a nightmare. It was a very dark night and in a small
clearing along the road a gypsy caravan was attached to a car. 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. 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 and in a shock. Just before I was
awake I clearly heard a voice somewhere in the middle of my head telling
me:

"He NEEDS you."

I was sure it was the voice of Jack, the former owner of the house, but
don't ask me how. I just felt absolutely sure. I even did feel him around
and it was a very reassuring feeling. Not creepy at all. I thought I felt
him touch my forehead and within a few seconds I was asleep again, until
the sun shining through a crack in the curtains woke me up. I took a
shower, casually dressed and went downstairs to make myself some breakfast
and a cup of very strong coffee.


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