THE CASEBOOK OF GEEZA VERMIES
Thankfully I have managed to avoid most of the attentions of the media and all that goes with it. Poor old Cripplesby hasn’t fared so well though and is currently doing a mammoth tour of chat shows all over the country, as well as appearing as guest speaker at hundreds of big functions, giving interviews to countless papers and magazines and all that kind of stuff. Not for me mate, not if I’ve got anything to do with it.
I’ve been given a nice lump sum to help me get back to Africa and a wee bit more besides, which will come in handy. I have absolutely no idea what to do with it all. It will figure itself out I guess; I’m not going to worry about it too much. I am currently on a farewell tour of certain sites I’ve had dealings with through the years, to say goodbye, as I will not be returning.
I’ve been to Avebury and a few of the other stone circles dotted around and I paid my last visits to several special spots in the New Forest, Romney Marsh and the South Downs, Curbar Edge in Derbyshire, Wood Henge - all that lot. I went to the Bullring in Birmingham, more ancient than anybody really knows and also to Sutton Park and Brownsea Island, two of the last strongholds of the Red Squirrel in the whole of England.
And of course, to Stonehenge. It is normally impossible for people to walk amongst the Stones themselves these days, ever since a bunch of drunken bloody idiots ruined it for everyone back in the early 90’s, but in light of my contributions to “restoring global balance and security,” they closed it off to the public for three days and left me alone there. The official excuses they gave for the closure was that seismic tests were being carried out in and around the site, or something like that, so even the traffic along the A303 and 360 didn’t disturb me, as it was all temporarily diverted. Blissful.
On my first night there I sat down on the bare Earth right in the middle of the main Circle, as the ancients had so often done many years before. I lit a tiny charcoal fire and flicked one of the smaller glowing coals into Old Smokey, setting off the pungent mixture I had prepared.
I had emptied and filled the Smokey’s bowl two times before the Stars began to spin high above my head and the Dancers - the name given collectively by the ancient Britons to the megaliths that surrounded me - began their age old, merry cavorting.
As the Stones came to life, taking the forms of five foot fairies as I had seen them do a few times before, they began to whirl around me in ever decreasing circles, gyrating and spiralling about in a dance copied by the Whirling Dervishes of Sufi Mysticism. The fairies’ dresses, spun from stardust and morning dew, came to life of their own accord, billowing out airily one moment and in the next clinging tightly to the delicate legs of the beautiful denizens of this sacred site.
They closed in on me, alluring, enticing, and seductive.
Once they recognised me and sensed that I was spoken for already, the presence of my Denubari friend wrapping me up in a cocoon of her Love, they laughed their playful little laughs and a couple of them, the lead dancers, whose names I know but will not mention, stepped out of the dance and came towards me. We embraced. It had been a long time since I was last here and I felt an almost heartbreaking sorrow at the thought that I was never going to see this place again.
“You’ve found your place little Geeza,” cooed the one on my left, reaching up and stroking my cheek with a soft, fragrant hand. They always called me little Geeza, despite the fact that I stood nearly a foot above them all. Then again, compared to the Stones they inhabit, I suppose I must be tiny to them.
“Do not be sad,” she continued. “Most people never find what you have found,” then she flashed her dark eyes teasingly at me, “and will never be fortunate enough to know the kind of joys you will be enjoying very, very soon.” The two lead Dancers glanced at each other and giggled girlishly, which made me feel blissfully embarrassed. I smiled and ‘tutted’ at them as I felt my face flush red. They’ve got a one track mind these fairies!
Laughing delightfully, they wished me well and then excitedly told me that they had a secret and asked me if I would like to know? The way they act almost childishly most of the time has made some people find out the hard way that these oh-so innocent Spirits should never be underestimated, for any reason. They are very fickle and highly, highly dangerous, despite their whimsical appearance.
They cannot be rushed, or made to change their playful ways; you just have to go along with their games and let things develop in their own time. So I begged and pleaded with them to tell me and only after some time spent cajoling and persuading them, they eventually beckoned me close, so close I could smell the moisture of the morning on their skin, fresh as a Forest at Dawn. With voices heavily laden with melodrama they finally gave up their secret to me in a string of gorgeous whispers.
They told me that a vast amount of treasure has been buried, deep beneath the ground within the outer circle of the Henge! The Professor used his machine to come to Stonehenge way back in antiquity and buried all the World’s old Scottish money here for safekeeping, before vanishing once more into the seas of time. And he has never been back to reclaim it.
They also warned me not to tell anyone, as it would undoubtedly cause great upheaval if people came looking for it. Which inevitably they would, in their droves. I agreed, of course, and I left them on my second afternoon, giving them that third day to dance alone and undisturbed, as they used to do many, many years ago.
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