Laughroditee's Playground 🤡🎪

He looks at the children now, three in total: the oldest stands with the hopeful air of authority that only a young boy of about eight can have. The girl—most likely his sister, given the same brown eyes and black curly hair—stands half-hidden behind him. The third child stands off to the side, his fiery red hair about ten times as loud as the child himself.

The oldest one speaks first. "This here is our treehouse. What do you fink you're doin' here, eh?"

"Roddy!" the girl hisses around his side. "That ain't proper! He's hurt!"

The boy — Roddy — glares at his sister. "I told you, call me Snake!" Turning toward Gaz as if nothing happened, Roddy — or Snake — says, "You can call me Snake.” He points to the headband on his brow, which trails in twin tails behind him, much like a certain video game character. “This here is my sister Larry—"

"Alaria!"

"Quiet, you."

"I'm tellin' Mum!"

Snake looked ashen for a second before clearing his throat and refocusing on Gaz. "Like I said, this here is our treehouse. Who are you an' what're you doin' here?"

"My name is… Kyle Garrick, and I—" He pauses.  As Gaz tries to retrieve the information of how he got here and what he was even doing before this, all he can see is tv static, an empty void where his memory should be. "I... don't remember how I got here," he admits.

"Oh, you poor fing!" Alaria coos, finally coming out from behind her brother. "Bet you got your mem’ries lost from that nasty bump on your 'ead."

"Bump...?" Gaz reaches back, and sure enough, there is quite the sizeable knot on the back of his head, and he hisses, pulling his hand away with just a little blood and some wood chips from the tree branch.

"Head wounds always bleed more," Snake says, trying to quell the queasy look on his sister's face. 

Gaz suppresses a smile. So the kid actually does have a heart, after all.

Rummaging through her sequined unicorn purse, Alaria pulls out a long bandage that looks like it has seen its share of warfare usage – if the war in question involves glitter bombs. "Mr. Cuddles ain't usin' this right now, so I reckon we should patch you up." She begins to wrap Gaz's head wound awkwardly. He doesn't have the heart to tell her how to dress it properly since she seems so concerned about his wellbeing. Once she finishes, Gaz feels a bit like The Mummy, but Alaria looks so happy he can't help but smile.

"Thanks, I owe you one," he tells her, and the girl practically vibrates with joy.

"Right, Kyle,” Snake says. “Sounds like you've got amnesia, bruv."

Gaz cocks an eyebrow. "Thank you for your quick diagnosis, Doctor Snake."

"Ain't nothin'," the boy replies with an overly unconcerned sniff. "Right, lads—"

"Don't call me 'lad,' I'm not a boy!" Alaria complains.

"Oi, focus, yeah? This man's lost his mem’ry; I bet he don' even know where he's at, and you want to complain about something like that? Come on, Larry."

She scowls but seems to acquiesce.

"First thing's first, then, we gotta find out where you came from before this. Me mate, Dave always says that retracin' your steps can help you remember. Like when you go into a room an' forget why you came in there."

Gaz looks at the redheaded boy who stands watching the scene unfold. "Is that Dave?"

“Wot?” Snake looks over his shoulder and wrinkles his nose. "Nah, that's Collin," he says dismissively, giving Gaz a look that says he thinks he's a little slow on the uptake.

Gaz blinks politely, redirecting with, "Alright, Collin?"

The boy nods silently in greeting.

"Can you stand up, Kyle?" Alaria asks, taking on a nursemaid demeanor, which Gaz has to imagine she uses on her stuffed bears at home.

"I think so." Carefully, Gaz stands up, brushing the dirt and leaves from the front of his shirt and jacket.

"Oi, hang on!" Snake says, staring intently at Gaz's leg. "You got them sticky burrs on your jeans."

Gaz looks down and pulls off a few of the dark seed pods that cling when you walk past them.  “Alright, and?”

"I know a place nearby where they grow," he says. "We always avoid that area 'cause they're awful to get out of our clothes once we're up here. But we can take you frew, see if that jogs your mem’ry."

He looks at the boy with an impressed half-smile. "Sounds like a plan.  Good eye, Snake."

Snake swells with genuine pride at the praise.  "Right, lads, let's move out!"  With no objections this time, the four of them start the trek away from the treehouse and through the woods.

"So you really don't remember what you were doin' before?" Alaria asks as she walks by Gaz's side.

He shakes his head. "Unfortunately not. It's all a bit hazy, though I can remember who I am and what I do for work."

"What do you do for work then?" Snake asks.

"Military," Gaz says simply, watching veritable stars form in the boy's eyes.

"Wicked," he breathes with excitement. "Me mate, Dave, his mum works for the army as a nurse. I want to join when I'm old enough."

Gaz looks down at Snake, seeing in the boy the younger version of himself, wanting so badly to follow in his father's footsteps, to protect people. He swallows, thinking of the pain and sacrifices he's endured over the many years of his career, the boy's shining, starstruck eyes feeling like an even heavier weight because it's this innocence that he fights so hard to protect every day.

After a moment, Gaz shakes off his reverie and says, "Just remember always to keep your head and look out for your people. They're who you're fighting for, yeah?"

Snake nods solemnly as if he's committing this to memory; he may very well be.

"Oh, nooo!" Alaria whines. "They're all over me now." Sure enough, her leggings are sprinkled with burrs.

"Guess we're in the right place," Gaz says, looking around.

"Anyfing look familiar?" Snake asks.

Looking around the area again, Gaz tries to recall some image from the static in his brain. After a few moments, he sighs, shaking his head in frustration. "Nothing," he says.

"You know, on the telly, sometimes you get your mem’ry back if you get scared real bad," Alaria says hopefully.

"That's hiccups, Larry," Snake sighs with an eye roll.

"Oh."

"What you're finkin' of is when you get clobbered in the 'ead again."

Alaria gasps, stomping in front of Gaz, much to his amusement. "You ain't gonna touch 'im, you hear me, Roddy!? He already got a bump on his 'ead! He's been frew enough!"

"It's alright, love," Gaz says through a smile. "No one's getting clobbered."

"Tha's what I was gonna say," Snake huffs. "Honestly." Shaking his head, Snake looks over at Collin, who's been wandering around the brush with purpose. The boy bends over and picks something up.

"Oi, whachu got there, Collin?"

Collin holds up what he found: a grey baseball cap with a monochrome Union Jack patch embroidered on the front.

Gaz knows it instantly, moving toward Collin’s location. "That's... that's mine."

Retrieving it gratefully, Gaz says, "Thanks, mate." There's a small patch of blood on the back, which makes him sigh. "Blood stains are so hard to clean out."

"Me mate, Dave's mum says to use hydrogen peroxide," Snake offers.

"Ah. The army nurse, yeah?"

"No, she’s just a mum," Snake says, as if Gaz should already know this information.

Gaz stares for a moment, confused, but decides it’s best just to move on rather than argue with a surly child.  He curls the hat by the brim and shoves it into his back pocket. No sense in trying to fit it over all the bandages and blood.

"Awright, lads, we know he came frew here. The question is: where do we go next?" Snake looks amongst his squad's faces for ideas, but none are forthcoming.

After a moment, Alaria suggests, “We could go to the playground.”

"Oi, why would a grown man be at the playground, Larry?"

She scowls. "I dunno, maybe he has a kid or somefing!"

"No kids," Gaz mutters absently as he kneels, his eyes scanning the ground where his hat was found. He'll have to pick off all the burrs later.

"Have you got your phone on you?" asked Alaria.

"My phone?" Hands going to pockets automatically, Gaz looks for that familiar rectangle, but instead, he feels nothing. "No. Don't know where that could've gotten off to."  

After a few more minutes of searching, Gaz lets out a growl of frustration. "I can't bloody remember a thing!"  He stands up and drags a hand over his face, biting back the string of expletives just aching to come out. If only he weren't surrounded by children.

"Maybe we should call the police," says Alaria quietly. "I think he needs a doctor."

Snake grimaces. "We ain't got no phone, remember?"

"We can just go home!"

"And let mum see us wif a complete stranger??  Are you mental?  We'll get grounded for a week and a half!"

"He ain't a stranger, he's Kyle Garrick!  Besides, she'll understand when she sees 'im!"

"You're so stupid, Larry!  You fink that Mum won't tell us we can't go to the treehouse anymore?  A grown man got attacked where we play, and you fink that she'll still let us go out an' play wifout her?  Absolutely mad."

As Alaria starts to cry, it's clear that things have just crossed a line. Snake, the acting leader of this little group, stands off to the side with his arms crossed, leaving Collin and Gaz exchanging awkward glances.

"That's enough," Gaz says finally, earning a guilty-looking scowl from Snake. "It's alright, love,” he says, putting a gentle hand on Alaria’s shoulder.  “Brothers sometimes say things they don't mean.  Try not to think too badly of him, yeah?" He catches a tear with a knuckle and earns a small smile in return.

Collin, who had been standing and observing as he apparently tended to do, is now suddenly standing right next to them. It’s honestly a little unnerving how quietly he moves. 

"You smell like strawberries," the boy says enigmatically.

"Oi, what's he on about?" Snake asks from across the patch of woods.

Gaz looks over at Snake, repeating the other boy's statement. "Your mate Collin says I smell like strawberries."

Alaria leans in and sniffs. "You do."

"Alright, and...?"

"Hang on, lads. Didn't the Tesco have a special strawberry slush on this week?" Snake asks, coming to join the group.

"Strawberry's the best," Collin says.

"Aww, I wanted Mum to get us slushes," says Alaria wistfully.

Snake nudges Gaz's jacket open, squinting at his dark shirt. Suddenly, he grins. "Looks like you had a spill, mate. There."

Gaz looks down, and sure enough, there's the faint outline of a red stain which has the distinct smell of strawberries. He looks at Collin with respect. "Good nose, mate." It's hard to tell, but the boy gives an imperceptible smile. 

"Oi, Collin, how much did that strawberry slush cost?"

"Wot?" the boy answers.

"The price!  How much for the strawberry slush?"

”Price…,” Gaz mumbles, his mind spinning.

"Oh. Three quid."

"Hang on, I think I remembered something," Gaz says as if he can't believe it.

"Well, what is it?" Alaria asks, practically bouncing.

"I remembered Price.  Captain Price."

"Was he wif you at the market?"

Gaz grimaces. "I can't remember."

Snake raises his eyebrows. "Looks like you're startin' to wake up."

Chuckling, Gaz nods. "Looks that way."

"Let's go to Tesco!" Alaria says excitedly, raising her fist in the air.

It takes about five minutes to get out of the woods and into the main commercial area via a residential road, and Gaz couldn't be happier to see civilization again. The kids are fine, but he was starting to think he was stuck in some kind of Lord of the Flies alternate universe.

They approach the Tesco with Snake leading the way. "Awright, let's look inside, lads."

"Wait, we should take him to the counter, like what happens when you run off—"

"Yeah, yeah, enough." Snake scowls, covering his sister's mouth with his hand.

Collin snickers quietly.

"It's not a bad idea," Snake finally admits as he releases her.

"Agreed," Gaz says. "Good thinking, Alaria."

The group heads over to the customer service area, where all parents go to collect or report their wayward children. There, they see a rather miffed older gentleman with mutton chops.

"No, he's not a child—,” the man says to the customer service rep. “Look, I assure you, this is quite serious."

"Captain?" Gaz couldn't believe it. Of all the places, how could this actually be the right one?

The captain's head swivels around to face the group, the tension melting away on sight. "Gaz!" The tall man strides over to them with purpose.

"Is that your husband?" Alaria whispers.

Gaz nearly chokes on air. "Wha— No! That's my commanding officer."

"There's no shame in it,” Snake says. “Me mate, Dave's got two mums."

"I'm not ashamed, I'm just— no, you know what? Just no."

The kids giggle as Price closes in, taking Gaz by the shoulders and scrutinizing him for injuries. The man frowns. "You broken?"

"I'm good."

Price smiles. "Good lad."

After all is said and done, the mystery is finally revealed.  As it turns out, Tesco was besieged by an overzealous strawberry slush thief just as Price and Gaz were about to check out.  As Gaz tried to restrain the thief, the slush spilled onto his shirt, but the criminal broke free of his hold.  Gaz pursued him through the woods but was ambushed with a very hard blow to the head, where he fell unconscious and suffered short-term memory loss.

Now, as they all enjoy some fresh strawberry slushes to celebrate a job well done, Gaz turns to Snake.  "Listen.  A man's mind is his greatest asset. Keep your head on, yeah?"

“Yes, sir,” Snake says, his little chest puffing out with pride.

That’s how, months later (had to wait for my passport), I found myself at the Brittania Hotel in Manchester, in one of their “standard twin rooms without a window.”  I never really knew how much I liked windows until I didn’t have one, but that’s beside the point.  At least I got a private bathroom, a coffee maker, and a TV, so I can’t complain too much for $44 per night.  Besides, this entire trip was an exercise in insanity, so why not add in some sensory deprivation while we’re at it?

As soon as I stood on UK soil, I knew this was the right place; that intuitive nudge felt like a soothing affirmation.  And that’s a great thing because simply being up in the air triggered another migraine, and I was afraid I’d puke on the guy next to me.  After unpacking my bag in the hotel room, I flipped a card from my tarot deck: The Knight of Swords.

The Knight of Swords talks about action, as all Knight cards do.  There’s a sense of motion, movement, and moving forward inherent there, with The Knight of Swords having the connotation of almost overwhelmingly swift movement; in fact, you can interpret it as needing to take heed that you’re not leaping before you’re looking.  (What irony.)  But that’s only one part of the story as the suit of the card will tell you what’s moving.  Swords in the tarot represent the element of air, so all things related to logic, ideas, communication, words, writing, and thoughts.  Holistically, you can interpret The Knight of Swords as needing to make sure you check your words before you say things so that you become aware of any potential obstacles on this path that you’re charging down. But, ultimately, you have the clarity of mind to overcome any challenges.  Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

However, the court cards in tarot can also signify people: kings as men or masculine energy, queens as women or feminine energy, and pages as children or youthful energy.  Knights, though, are tricky.  They can symbolize people of any gender, anywhere from age twenty-five up to forty, people who move in and out of our lives, physical travel, change, or pure energy and where you’re focusing it.  It can be hard to know what the “correct” interpretation is in any given reading, with so many meanings to consider, but I usually just go with my gut or pull some more cards for context.  In this case, why not both?

Pulling two more cards from the deck, I laid them out on the bed next to the first one: Death and the Three of Swords.  Contrary to popular belief, the Death card doesn’t usually mean death or foretell of someone dying.  It means change and transformation, the end of a cycle and the beginning of a new one.  The Three of Swords features an illustration with three swords stabbing through a bleeding heart: heartbreak, but sometimes literal heart health problems.

"Wow, bad day," I said as I looked over the cards.

I suddenly felt a presence in the room that wasn’t there a minute ago, the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms standing on end.

"Ye finally made it, lass."

My head whirled around so fast that the ends of my bobbed hair stabbed me in the eye.  I shot to my feet, spilling the rest of my cards to the floor.  “Fuck!” I whined, cradling my stinging, watering eye as I stumbled backward. 

Deep, apparently very amused laughter rang out in the room, and I was astonished to see a man there, wearing some kind of military getup, a mohawk cut into his dark brown hair. Oh, and he was semi-transparent.

I backed away slowly, my hand clapped over my eye.  There is no way in Hell.  “What the fuck, are you a ghost?” 

His expression sobered as he nodded his spectral head.  “Unfortunately.”  

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice a couple of octaves higher than it would typically be.  The urge to scream was overwhelming, and he put his hands out placatingly. 

”Easy, love,” he cooed, keeping his voice as soothing as possible so as not to spook me further.  “We have a blood tie.”

“What?”  The man — ghost? ghost man? — could tell me he was king of Scotland, and I don’t think that would change my hesitation or the level of existential panic I felt at that moment.

“We’re kin,” he said with a little more force, trying to reach me through my brain-melting anxiety.  “Family.  Somewhere along the line, we share blood.  Is it so hard to imagine?  Big world like this?”

“I’m literally talking to a dead man,” I say as my inner thoughts bleed out of my mouth.  Either my imagination is amazing, or I’m having a breakdown.  Maybe there really was something wrong with my brain, and they just couldn’t find it.  Maybe the migraines were making me hallucinate.

“Evangeline!” 

That caught my attention, my blue eyes snapping to his in shocked confusion.  “How do you know my name?”

He had the audacity to sound frustrated.  “Like I said, we share a blood tie.”

"Oh, of course.  That obviously explains everything.  I’m so relieved."

He smirked.  “Yer a wisearse ye are.”

Well, he did get one thing right anyway.  “How come I don’t know your name then?”

”Because I’m dead, and ye’re not.  It’s John, by the way.  John MacTavish.”

Examining him warily, I ask, “So we’re, like, cousins or some shit, John MacTavish?”

He shrugged, pushing his long sleeves up his forearms, which is such a mind-boggling thing to think about a ghost doing — like, what’s the purpose of that? Is he too warm?  “I dunnae know exactly, lass; I just know that I was pulled to ye.  And ye answered.”  It was then that I noticed the ghostly blood on the side of his head, his presumably fatal bullet wound in the exact place where I felt my migraines.

My stomach dropped into what felt like a vat of ice.  “Oh… Oh no. I’m not a medium!  I don’t see dead people!” I desperately pleaded with him, trying to convince him he'd gotten the wrong girl. “I just sling cards; I don’t do any of that other stuff!”

”And yet, here I am.  Here ye are.”  He put his hand on his hip.

“Yes, but… Why?  Why are you here?  What do you want from me?”  Then I saw his tattoo.  With a sudden motion, I moved quickly forward — I think I actually startled him — and I bent my head down to look at his forearm.  Nested inside of laurels was a sword with wings, topped by a knight’s helm and crown.

”Knight of Swords,” I breathed, astonished.  Rushing back, I grab my card from the bed, brandishing it as I return to where he stands.  “This is you?  You did this?”

The ghost of John MacTavish looked down at me with a serious expression.  “I did.  I need yer help, Evangeline.  Yer the only one who can do it.”

Part 2