The Thirteen Stones

by Finegan, KT

  Angel stood up, too. ‘We can come to your grandmother’s house with you,’ she offered. ‘We’d love to help, and there will be things you’ll have to do there.’

  I knew that was a task I needed to face sometime, and something made me confide in them that I planned visiting the solicitor first, to get the keys and see what else I had to do.

  Angel told me not to worry, and to take my time. ‘Why don’t you come and stay with me rather than the B&B? I’ve got a spare room. Please.’ She seemed to sense my hesitance. ‘Let me do it for your gran. Then we can help you with Kirsten’s things when you feel ready.’

  ‘But don’t put it off too long,’ added Grizelle. ‘You’re better to face these things sooner rather than later.’

  I looked closely into both of their faces for a moment, and felt immediately calmer, less panicked, just from having them close. Neither of them was trying to upset me. I hadn’t realised I had been holding my breath, but now I let it out with a long sigh. These two ladies were my granny’s friends. They knew a lot more about her life than I did. They’d spent time with her and had information about her.

  Something about Grizelle, and her voice especially, felt very familiar. With another deep breath I heard myself thanking them and agreeing to Angel’s offer. I wasn’t normally someone who acted hastily, but it was as if something inside told me to accept, and I couldn’t disagree.

  ‘Great.’ Angel looked genuinely happy that I’d be staying with her. ‘Pop back to the B&B and pack up your things and I’ll come round and pick you up in about half an hour.’

  Back at the B&B, Mrs Thomson refused to accept any money for my stay.

  ‘Put your purse away, Kirsty, and don’t be silly. I was at school with your gran and she was always a good friend. It’s the least we can do. And let us know if you need any help at the cottage. We told her we’d look out for you.’

  Words failed me, and tears filled my eyes as Mrs Thomson rubbed my arm, and gave me a quick hug.

  8

  Angel’s old yellow VW Beetle sat at the gate, black fumes belching out from the exhaust. There were red flowers stencilled all across the bonnet and boot.

  ‘This is such a cool car,’ I told her, as I dropped my bag into the back seat and got in beside her.

  ‘It’s an original. It was refurbished about five years ago. Only needs a little work done and it’ll be fine again.’ Her obvious pride in the car stopped me pointing out the defective exhaust, which is what I would usually have done, and I decided to take shallow breaths instead.

  Within minutes we were back at the coffee shop, and parked on the road at the front. She hustled me into a little side gate which I hadn’t noticed, along a narrow path between the old stone walls of the coffee shop and the church, and into a beautiful little courtyard directly behind the building. Despite the winter weather, little bright green firs in pots sat along the edges of the yard. Other multi-coloured pots dotted around brought in the hues of spring and summer, like lavender, mint and other herbs and hardy plants.

  An old wooden table and chairs sat to one side, and in the middle was some sort of brushwood structure standing about six feet tall. I thought at first it was a shed or a kids’ play house, but as I got closer I realised it was pyramid-shaped. I glanced at Angel who smiled and lifted her eyebrows as if to say, ‘What do you expect?’

  Even as I asked if this was for children to play in, I knew it was hers.

  ‘I use it to meditate in, and I put my plants in as it helps them grow. Because it’s so close to the church, it’s on an earth energy line so I believe it helps with healing the earth.’

  I didn’t have a clue where to start with my questions. I mean, a pyramid? In a back garden? I hadn’t heard of energy lines either. And meditation? I didn’t know anyone who did that, and had never tried. How do you stop your thoughts coming through, and did it really make any difference?

  She gestured for me to follow her up the external stone staircase, potted plants lining the edges of the steps. In summer it would be beautiful and I could imagine all the colourful flowers trailing down the stairs. A sharp, icy cold wind caught me as I got to the top, sending a chill through my entire body and a horrible feeling of fear straight to my stomach. It surprised me, as the courtyard seemed so sheltered set between the coffee shop and the church walls.

  By the time I stepped into the flat, Angel was rushing round lighting lamps, candles, and logs in the stove. The early evening darkness was hidden behind thick red curtains, but not before I caught a glimpse of the church, floodlit and ethereally framed for a moment in the window like a magnificent oil painting in a too tight frame.

  I followed her through to her spare bedroom. All the rooms led off the big but cosy square lounge. In front of the stove were two large red sofas laden with bright cushions and tartan throws to keep out the chill. Big bookcases, crammed to overflowing with all shapes and sizes of books and magazines, stood on both sides of the stove which sat on a black granite hearth at the corner of the room. It was already throwing out heat and light into the chilly air.

  The spare bedroom was lovely, with the same dark wooden floor, exposed stone walls like the downstairs cafe, and a small leaded glass window overlooking the courtyard and the church. It was stunning, and I felt strangely comforted that it sat there and was almost watching over me at such a strange time in my life.

  Angel switched on the bedside lamp, and the huge brass bed glinted in the light. I took out my toiletries and night things and pushed my bag under the bed. She had returned to the kitchen and I heard her calling me. By the time I got there she had the Aga on, and the kitchen had lost its chill. She looked surprised to see me.

  ‘I thought you might be taking a bath or something,’ she said.

  ‘I think I’m too tired even for that. But you called me.’

  Angel looked at me strangely. ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Someone did…’

  That awful feeling of dread hit me again and, despite the warmth of the room and the cosy surroundings, it was like I was being watched – or worse, hunted. I shrugged off that feeling. It was my imagination, nothing more. This was my first bereavement as an adult and it had unsettled me, that was all. There was nothing else to worry about.

  I ignored a little doubting niggle deep in my body, and instead concentrated on the food which Angel had heated up. It was easier than admitting that I felt unsettled. We had a delicious veggie hotpot, with more bread and butter, and I found an appetite from somewhere, even managing a big chunk of chocolate cake. Eventually we settled onto the sofas in front of the roaring stove in the lounge with cups of tea. I had eaten too much and felt sleepy.

  I had a feeling she wanted to talk about my gran, but I didn’t want to get upset again, so I asked her about the pyramid outside. She told me it enhanced meditation, and that she had covered it with brushwood so that she could sit in it even on the coldest, wettest day. Seeing my puzzled face, she offered me a book to look at later.

  ‘I meditate a couple of times a day,’ she explained. ‘Sitting in the energies of the pyramid with my crystals makes me feel good.’

  ‘How do you do it? I don’t see how you can stop your thoughts. I wouldn’t be able to. And does it really work? I mean… how does it work?’

  Angel sipped her tea then smiled. ‘I’ve been doing it for a couple of years now, and like opening myself up to Angels and energies, life has just got better and better. I love my life and feel really fulfilled in what I do. I never ever dreamed of a different life. I realise now that I didn’t dare. It was like there was a part of me that wanted to break out and experience something different, but the rest of me bit it back and wouldn’t let it out. Like the little girl in me knew there could be a happy ending, but the adult part of me wouldn’t let her speak. Does that make any sense to you?’

  Strangely it did. I had a fleeting sense of a whisper of a ch
ild inside me as she spoke. I nodded my agreement, as I was finding this all fascinating. I’d had no idea that there was another way.

  ‘So I meditate every day. I wake in the morning and connect with my Higher Self, and thank the Universe for all the blessings on my day, and then I check in with her during the day, and at night I send out my appreciation to all for my life and all the wonderful experiences I have.’

  ‘Your Higher Self? What do you mean, Angel? And how can you give thanks in advance for your day when you don’t know how good or bad it’s going to be?’ I asked her, my brow wrinkling in confusion.

  ‘That’s the whole point, Kirsty. Life is always a blessing. It’s us that can’t always see it. We fill our heads with all sorts of negative thoughts, and keep ourselves busy as a distraction. We’re the ones who bring judgement into our lives. We decide whether something is good or bad.

  ‘I learned that life is neutral. We make our choices based on what we expect to happen. Think about the things we tell ourselves. The negative stories we tell ourselves and, if you think about it, how we restrict ourselves by deciding in advance that there can only be an outcome that we create. My life is so much easier now that I leave all that to the Universe. I realised that I wasn’t letting anything good happen to me. I had already decided that life was going to be bad, and get worse. In doing that, I was trying to control everything. Negative thoughts bring in more negativity. Positive thoughts from a grateful heart can change lives. Look what happened to me.’

  I struggled a bit to get my head around what she meant. But there felt like a little nugget of wisdom in what she said, and it was good to hear about her new life.

  She continued, ‘Scientists are now discovering in experiments on the human brain that meditation slows down the frequency of brainwaves and can take the person into a dreamlike state of mind. This enhances creativity and relaxation and reduces stress levels. I believe that if people found out how good meditation can make you feel, they would have no need to take drugs or get drunk all the time. I’d love to teach it in prisons, can you imagine the difference that would make in society? Everyone peaceful, calm and creative, with no need to steal or cause harm. For me, I feel I go somewhere special and into a feeling of bliss.’

  Bliss. At will, or rather, when you wanted it. That sounded amazing to me. I asked her about the pyramid again.

  ‘You’re welcome to use it. There’s a crystal grid layout inside and some little lamps. Pop in tomorrow, lie down and daydream’

  ‘Is daydreaming the same as meditation?’ I asked.

  ‘Similar brain patterns,’ she said, ‘but sometimes it’s nice to empty your mind and… well, you’ll find out, I’m sure. First things first.’

  ‘What do you do with crystals?’ I asked. ‘I remember Gran having some large crystals which I’m sure she said were Scottish, but she liked to keep them in the garden rather than the house. I knew she felt that they shouldn’t be dug up.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Angel, ‘your gran and I had slightly different views on using crystals. She felt that they should all be returned to the earth, and I agreed to a certain level. But if crystals can help us and they are already available, then why not use them? I work with many different crystals, as they all have specific properties, and I love their energy.’

  There was that word again. Energy. I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but didn’t want to interrupt. She offered me a huge piece of purple amethyst which was sitting at the side of her sofa, so I hadn’t seen it when we sat down. It was the size of a football, and as she turned it around I realised it was cut into the shape of a skull. I thought it was horrible, really frightening. She could tell what I was thinking from my face.

  ‘There’s no need to be scared. The crystal skulls are here to provide real help to us right now. You’ll see more and more of them over the next few years as people lose fear and accept their power more.’

  This was too freaky for words, but I didn’t want to admit that I was scared of it. Instead, I opened my arms and nestled it against my chest. Instantly I felt like a tremor, a slight vibration against my skin. It was like being plugged into a power source of some kind, like a gigantic purple battery.

  ‘Close your eyes and lie back against the cushions,’ suggested Angel.

  As much as I didn’t want to do that, I felt to say no would be to admit that I was scared. So I did as she suggested and closed my eyes. It was weird. Part of me knew I was sitting on the sofa in front of the flames, but it was my imagination that fired up. It was as if the crystal was communicating with me. I sensed something in it or around it. Nothing frightening; instead it was like a softness. Like it wanted to comfort my heart.

  I remembered years before, holidaying in Mexico and swimming with the dolphins. I had forgotten how connected I felt to them. Like they were wanting us to laugh and smile. And we all did. Everyone in the group was laughing and the dolphins laughed back. This was the same experience. The crystal skull was communicating with me. It wanted to show me something, and into my mind came Gran, smiling at me. She blew me a kiss like she used to do, and laughed.

  I quickly opened my eyes to find Angel watching me intently. She said nothing and passed me another crystal. ‘Smoky quartz,’ she said. ‘It clears negativity.’

  It was shaped like a dragon’s head, and the size of a melon. It was heavy, and instead of holding it against my chest I moved it over my stomach. I closed my eyes without prompting and again felt a tingle. High in my tummy area I felt heat from the crystal. It was trying to tell me something. ‘It’s time,’ I heard, or sensed, or just knew. ‘Time for action. We are here. Don’t be afraid. We are with you.’

  Again I opened my eyes. As odd as that had been, I actually didn’t feel afraid. Angel sat across from me holding a large pink stone against her heart. She must have sensed I was watching her and introduced me to her piece of pink quartz. ‘It’s for universal healing,’ she said, ‘and the colour of the heart.’

  I told her about the two experiences, and she just smiled and nodded. She explained that she believed the crystals communicated with us when we chose to listen.

  All of this was so new to me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it all. My mind went back to something she had mentioned earlier.

  ‘What did you mean about “healing the earth”?’ I asked.

  ‘A lot of people around the world are now aware of the distress humans have caused to the planet,’ she replied, ‘and they use whatever means they can to put positive energies into the earth, particularly in areas of conflict, stress, or environmental damage. We use meditation, crystals, sacred sound, and send love to Mother Earth.’

  ‘Send love?’ I asked.

  ‘We can love our planet, and as we become aware of the spiritual beings we are, connect with the elementals, nature, and other energy bodies.’

  ‘How do you know other people are doing it?’

  ‘We just do, and there is now so much information on the internet so we can all come together. The more people meditating at the same time, the more powerful the outcome, and we can communicate and spread the love.’

  I felt a little embarrassed at all this talk of love. It wasn’t my usual topic of conversation, especially given my recent break-up. I suppose I had only ever really thought about romantic love and love for my granny, which felt different. I’d never really considered love in any other form, especially about the earth, although I realised that’s exactly what Gran had done and had tried to talk to me about.

  ‘Is this like the peace protesters, and environmentalists, and all the new age stuff you read about and see in the news?’ I sipped my tea, trying to make sense of what she was telling me.

  ‘That’s one part of it,’ Angel explained, ‘but also people want to do something good, to compensate for all the years of stripping the earth of its natural resources, and as well as that, to connect with each other, to find a
higher purpose for life.’

  ‘But you said you did it in places of stress or conflict, do you mean like war zones?’

  ‘Yes, we all send love to places in the world that need it,’ she said.

  ‘Okay.’ I let her words sink in. ‘That’s really interesting, and I can understand that people would want to try and send good thoughts to places like that, but… I suppose my question is, why here?’

  My words hung in the air between us like an invisible barrier. She looked really shocked. I had no idea why my words had such an effect, but it was obvious that they did.

  Angel took a deep breath and started to mess about with the fire, adding more logs. She didn’t look at me for a couple of minutes, almost as though she was trying to compose herself.

  She let out a long slow breath and turned back to face me. ‘I would prefer Grizelle to be with us to talk about all this, she can tell you a lot more about the history of the town. And I’m sure she could answer all your questions. Did you hear that only a couple of miles from us is an open cast mine? The company won the rights to extend their excavations to within a few miles of the town, which you know is a World Heritage site. Even the March Stones will be affected.’

  ‘Surely not?’ It was my turn to be shocked. ‘Everyone in the town knows that the stones aren’t supposed to be touched. Is there not a legend that something will happen to Scotland if anything happens to the stones? Or is that a story they thought up for the tourists?’

  The town was famed for its week-long festivities every June, including a parade, marching bands, horse riders, bandsmen, dances, and the famous ‘Marches’ – a walk by the whole town around its perimeter to inspect the March Stones. This had been done every year for centuries, and the festival and ceremony brought thousands of visitors to the town.

  ‘What is the town doing about it? Will the council let the extension go through?’ I asked her.