The Book of Tragic Short Stories Part Three

The Graffiti Master

Lethargic Leo was bored and sat in the waiting room with his angry mother at his posh school, awaiting a meeting with the top brass. He didn’t want to be there, he hated school, but his mother begged him to attend the meeting. The meeting was to decide whether he gets one last chance at the prestigious school. At the tender age of fifteen he had just started his GCSEs in Year 10, but his problems had started long before. 

He looked disheveled, his shirt was untucked, shoes were grubby, and his hair was a little wild. Leo didn’t know who his father was, according to his mother, they had a one-night stand. Caz, Leo’s mother told him that he hadn’t been seen since. Deep down, Leo wanted to track him down but didn’t know where to start. He always suspected his mother knew more than she was letting on. He brought it up a number of times, but she always got defensive, and they always ended up arguing. Caz had a short temper, she didn’t like talking about her past, she had a bitterness which kept people away from her.

Leo had always struggled at school and was disruptive, rude and aggressive to teachers as well as students, he was like a tornado in a stately home. When he was caught with a spray can next to a freshly painted tag on the side of the science block, he knew his number was up. He was finished at the school, and he appeared to be the only one that didn’t care. 

The Head Teacher’s Personal Assistant came into the waiting area and asked them to follow her to the meeting room. Caz and Leo walked in and sat down at the top of the table with eight people staring at them. Mr Vaughn the Head went through a list of many incidents and wanted to see remorse from the eyes of the young man sat there with his disappointed mother sat next to him, like they were on the naughty step. However, there was no remorse to be found from the adolescent.

Mr Vaughn asked Leo if he wanted to remain at the school, but Leo had no respect for anyone and he had his iPods in and wasn’t listening to anyone, he hated Mr Vaughn. A true example of the distain he had for the place. His poor lonely mother just sat there speechless at her son’s ‘brutal two fingers up’ at authority. He had blown it, but he didn’t care, to him this was all a waste of time, he would happily burn the old school to the ground. 

Leo may as well had stood on the desk and bared his backside at the school's hierarchy. However, that wasn’t necessary as the school board turned into a firing squad and expelled the ungrateful boy. Caz didn’t know where to turn and had all of those judgemental eyes staring at her. They both got up and hot stepped it out of there. At this point Leo had no chance of obtaining any qualifications and his future looked bleak.

They got into the car and Leo said to his mother, 

“They were asking too many questions, it was driving me crazy, too many questions make me want to scream.”

A down-beaten Caz said, “Scream all you want. Absolutely no one cares anymore. You’re a stupid idiot with nothing going for you, if you weren’t my son I’d have nothing to do with you.”

“Bloody hell mum. That’s a bit strong, chill out, it’s only school.”

Caz replied, “Only a school? You have no idea what I’ve been through to get you into that place. It might only be school now, but if you ever find work, you’ll be kicked out with that dumb attitude. You’re a waste of space.”

“Don’t worry about me mum, I’ll be fine. I reckon I’ll be working within a month.”

Caz ended the conversation with,

“Yeah right, we’ll see. Now stop boring me with your silly nonsense.”

Lazy Leo spent the next week playing games online until three in the morning and then spent the day sleeping. He enjoyed it to begin with but eventually he got bored. He contacted a few of his schoolmates and met with a few in the evenings. They hung around, causing mayhem, being noisy, breaking things and then Leo got himself a spray paint. They went down to the subway and began practicing their tags. After a while Leo perfected his tag and over the next few months made sure everyone knew it throughout the local towns. He was tagging any wall, bridge and building he could. 

Eventually he got caught by the police, arrested for many criminal damages and sent to the magistrate's court. As he was still under eighteen, he was given a Youth Rehabilitation Order and had to meet up with a YJS officer once a week. They educated him on the laws and how his actions affected so many people, even though he thought it was victimless. They also spoke about his lack of education and low self esteem. 

The main aim was to redirect his actions into a positive and legitimate activity. Leo said he was interested in art and especially the graffiti form of street art. He liked the Banksy style and wanted to create something unique for himself. Leo got a pencil set and sketch pad and began doodling and trying new designs out. He got really into it and by all accounts he was pretty good. He was particularly good at somber and tragic scenes, or as Leo described it as “It’s real.” 

His first opportunity came when Leo was at the youth club and the group leader gave him permission to create “a masterpiece”. The leader was really supportive and told him he wanted the artwork to make them all millions, in a tongue in cheek comment. 

Leo got his spray paints and some stencils he had made and went to work. He started at four in the afternoon and finished at eleven. Seven hours of hard work and dedication, it was probably the only thing he had ever done to his full ability. He stepped back with the lights looming overhead and gazed at his artwork. 

He loved it, it was a picture of a couple of hoodies searching a Police Constable. The look on the officer’s face was hilarious, he looked shocked and embarrassed whilst the hoodies went through his pockets. The colours were vibrant and edgy, it was fun with a little bit of menace thrown in. 

The following day was Saturday and by lunchtime the youth centre was packed with teenagers laughing and taking pictures of it. They loved it and it was the talk of the estate. Even the local police officer thought it was amusing and tweeted it out on his official account. 

Leo started working on other projects and when he ran out of walls being offered to him for his art, he had to go rogue. He went into Brighton which was full of opportunities. Alleyways, tunnels, old offices and discarded houses, were all available canvas’ for him. He just had to keep an eye out for the police. If he received another charge for criminal damage, he would be in a lot of bother. 

Some of the pictures were of people in different poses, there were paintings of love, sorrow, violence and crime. Leo was an angry young man and was filled with emotions that he didn’t understand. He wanted to be loved but was afraid of being judged and discarded. He was angry and violence was exciting; he got a buzz from the adrenaline. Leo was sad and created pictures of dismay and hopelessness. He knew that happiness and sadness went hand in hand, without one you wouldn’t experience the other. 

Leo continued his journey of discovery in the dark world of gorilla graffiti. He had a few close encounters with the police, but he always managed to evade them. With busy Brighton having a high crime rate with drugs, violence, prostitution, burglaries and sexual assaults, it meant the police always had something more important to do rather than looking for a man with a spray can. 

Around six months later there was a serious robbery down a backstreet, a knife was involved, and the victim had to go to hospital. The local reporter went to the scene and took a picture of the crime scene, in the background was a painting from Leo depicting the incident. He had even painted a likeness of the suspects. This extraordinary occurrence led to the arrest of the suspects.

A week later, a person sadly overdosed and died. In the background was a painting from Leo showing a grieving mother and father standing over the area the body was found, they were even holding a bouquet of flowers.

A month later a there was a serious fire at an old derelict warehouse, three homeless people died. On the surviving wall outside there was a picture of a group of people running in fear from a fireball. The artwork depicted the innocent victims who died a horrific death.

The list of tragedies which occurred at locations Leo had painted, and the likeness of the victims was an incredible freaky coincidence. However, can several pictures predicting the future be a coincidence?

The local press, GWS were on the path of these mysterious paintings. They had hired an art expert to travel around the city looking for more artwork from the illusive artist. Currently no body new it was Leo; he never signed his work as he didn’t want the police to get wind of his exploits and arrest him.

GWS had managed to locate nine art works that they were confident was from the same artist, however, they couldn’t man each picture forever because it would be expensive and take an army of people. So, they looked at the pictures and tried to guess the tragedy, which wasn’t easy. They even opened it up to the public, in a spot the ball type game. It was bizarre, people were guessing on the most dark and morose events.

In the end it didn’t help matters. Nobody could predict when a tragic event may happen, or even what type of incident just by looking at a picture. However, what it did do was make the unknown artist infamous. The public were all talking about the new Banksy, and Leo had to lie low for a while. He loved the fact the public enjoyed his work but was gutted he couldn’t revel in the furore. He wanted to be rich and famous and show his school that he didn’t need them to be successful. Whether he hated them or not, the male teachers were the only male role models he had.

Leo had produced one painting that was particularly close to his heart. It was only his fourth ever creation which was produced on a wall along the Lanes in Brighton, he produced it around three months ago. It was huge, around two metres high. It depicted a woman holding a baby in her arms. The lady was crying and looking down towards the floor, to her left. The baby’s face was hidden, and the woman was dressed in a long coat with a suitcase resting on her leg. It was Leo and his mother; nobody knew about it but Leo. He argued a lot with his mum, but deep down he loved her and knew she had struggled to give him the start to life he had. He wanted to express his love for her in a type of mural.

Leo would often walk around Brighton to monitor his artwork and see if any had been damaged or painted over. When one uses the gorilla graffiti art form, they have no say as to the future of that piece, so he would survey his work. Quite often he would find other people’s tags scattered around the painting like flies around a chocolate cake.

Whilst on one of his walking tours, he went to view his painting of his mother. Just as he got there, he couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw Mr Vaughn walk past. He didn’t want to run into him, especially after being expelled, so he ducked down like Neo from the Matrix. When Mr Vaughn had left, he spotted a hairy old man asleep. There was an empty shop with a covered doorway which was perfect for one to cocoon themselves away from the wind and the rain. Leo didn’t think anything of it as it was a great place for a homeless person, however, the artwork of his mother holding him as a baby was prominent and overlooked the sleeping man. The tears were running down the face of his young mother and she was looking down at the man.

Homeless Harry had made it his patch; he had to fight off other suitors, but Harry had a reputation of being dangerously unpredictable. To be able to fall asleep in an area where people are moving around you either takes the Zen of a master Shaolin Monk or two bottles of wine. Harry wasn’t a Monk so chose the latter.

Harry was an ex-serviceman and had been in the Gulf War. He didn’t enjoy the desert nor the heat and when he was discharged from the army, he became a painter and decorator. He muddled away for years but after his marriage broke down, he lost everything. His devious ex-wife took the lot.

Now Homeless Harry was a hard drinking man begging and stealing his way from one day to the next. He had long greasy brown hair and an unkempt long beard. He wore dark glasses and a trilby hat, a long trench coat and had a brown holdall with his worldly belongings. He lived in the shadows and moved around when most people were at home or asleep. He would often walk past houses and glance in with envy. He once had it all and now he had nothing, absolutely nothing. The alcohol wasn’t just helpful for his sleep; it also helped him forget his worries.

Normally Leo wouldn’t look twice at this man or give this scene any credence, but with the freaky way some of his previous paintings had predicted the future, he asked himself the inevitable question.

“Could that homeless man sleeping peacefully under my mother, be my father?”

Leo had always wanted a successful man to breeze into his life with a zillion interesting and crazy stories and declare himself as his father. However, at this stage he just wanted anyone and thought that his gift had brought his father back to him.

Leo wasn’t sure what to do, he didn’t want to leave and possibly never see this man again. What if it was his father? This could have been his only chance to meet his dad, and he didn’t want to lose it. Leo was incredibly nervous and the hair on the back of his neck had stood up. He didn’t want to be attacked by this man, but he needed answers.

Leo gently woke up Homeless Harry, who was not best pleased. He opened his eyes and looked up, in a grumpy growl he said,

“What the hell are you doing? Leave me alone you prat.”

Leo said,

“I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you. I think it’s really important.”

Harry shuffled around in his sleeping bag and looked at Leo. He said, “You’re a bit young to work for the council. Anyway, I’m not moving, this is my patch. So, leave me alone, I just want to sleep.”

Leo said, “Sir, I really need to talk to you. Let me get you breakfast. Can I buy you a coffee and a sausage roll? I’m not from the council. I just need a few minutes of your time. Come on, what have you got to lose?”

Harry replied, “If you’re not going to go away, I’ll have a coffee with three sugars and two large hot sausage rolls. I’m starving.”

Leo made his way to Greggs and Harry sat upright; he rubbed his eyes and put his glasses and hat on. After a few minutes Leo had returned with the breakfast bounty and handed it over to Harry. Harry took the sausage rolls and devoured them with flakey pastry cascading down his black and grey beard and clinging to it like the worst decorations on a Christmas tree ever.

Leo gave him a minute and watched in horror as the breakfast was being shoved into the snarling hairy mouth. It was like feeding time at the zoo. Once Harry had completed his meal and was swigging from his hot sweet coffee, Leo said,

“Look, the reason I woke you is because I think fate might have brought you back to me. This is going to sound really odd, so please bear with me. Sixteen years ago, you met my mother, Caz. She was twenty-one and you met her on a night out. Don’t freak out, but I think you might be my father.”

With that Harry started laughing and almost choked on his drink. “You’ve got the wrong fella mate. I’m not your father, I don’t remember a girl called Caz. I’m forty-four, I haven’t got any children, I think I’d know by now.”

Leo found it difficult but tried to explain the bizarre occurrences around his graffiti artwork. He pointed to the painting and showed Harry his mother holding him as a baby whilst looking down on them. Harry admitted he found the painting haunting but said he didn’t recognise the woman.

Leo was not taking no for an answer and was incredibly insistent. He wanted to help him; he encouraged Harry to get up and took him to the hairdressers called Barnets. The barber needed some convincing as he didn’t want to touch Harry but Leo, who had made a few quid from some of his commissioned artwork, offered to pay double.

With the beard now neatly shortened and Harry’s hair clipped short, he looked much better. They then went to the First Base Day Centre for the homeless. Harry was able to shower, and they gave him some fresh clean clothes. Harry looked and smelt like a new man. Whilst there Jav, a volunteer, helped Harry apply for various shelters including the Emmaus Project in Portslade.

It was Harry’s lucky day. Leo was like a guardian angel. Within a few hours Harry’s life had taken an upturn, Emmaus had a room available, their philosophy was that everyone of the companions worked onsite. They had two shops, a cafeteria and a garden centre, it was an amazing place for everyone lucky enough to have the opportunity.

Harry got settled into Emmaus and Leo got him a mobile phone so they could stay in touch. Harry got a position in the kitchen in the cafeteria; he was making sandwiches and salads. Leo was so proud of Harry, his father (potentially), but Harry still wasn’t convinced. Leo tricked his mother Caz to go for lunch at Emmaus and look around the secondhand shop. Caz liked rummaging through charity shops looking for a bargain, so agreed.

Caz loved the place; it was an old monastery adapted for the public to shop and eat and run by the homeless, where they also lived. Mother and son sat down in the café and ordered two portions of Welsh Rarebit and two mugs of tea. Leo was really nervous, his heart was pounding, he was reintroducing his mother and father. A shock reunion for both parties after a one-night stand together sixteen years ago. Leo didn’t want them to fall in love, he wasn’t expecting that at all, all he wanted was some sort of acknowledgement that they knew each other and that he had located his father. It was important to Leo to know who his father was, he needed that closure, even if it was someone who was a homeless drunk. He felt like he was missing a limb without knowing the full story.

After Caz and Leo finished off their lunch and a waitress cleared their table, Leo asked her if she could tell Harry he was there and to ask him to come over.

Caz looked at Leo and said,

“Who’s Harry? Is he someone you know from school?”

“No mum, it’s someone I think you know. I met him a few weeks ago in Brighton. Please don’t freak out but I think I’ve found my father.”

Caz almost fell from her seat and said, “What the heck are you talking about? Your father isn’t called Harry. You’ve brought me here to meet someone you think is your dad, are you crazy?”

Harry was approaching the table and said hello to Leo, he sat down next to him, and they had some small talk until Leo said,

“Harry, this is my mother, Caz. Does she look familiar to you now?”

Harry looked embarrassed and realised what Leo was going on about. He said hello to Caz and looked at Leo and said,

“I’m sorry Leo I have never met your mum before.”

He then wished them well and returned to the kitchen.

Caz didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She said, “You really are a plonker Leo. That is not your father. Why would you think that? Bloody hell, that was awkward.”

Leo tried to explain his thinking and then started to get angry at his mother’s attitude. He lost his temper and said, “Well if he’s not my dad who is? Just tell me NOW!!!”

Caz said, “I couldn’t tell you because it was part of the deal we had, I had to keep it quiet otherwise he would stop paying me an allowance.”

“Who mum? WHO?”

Caz gave in and looked Leo in his eyes,

“I don’t suppose it matters anymore, as you got kicked out of the school. But the Head, Mr Vaughn is your father. I met him whilst working in the office when Vaughny was a maths teacher. We were both young, but he was already married, and his wife was pregnant. I had to keep it quiet, I’m sorry.”

Leo looked down and with anger said,

“Oh, bloody hell, NO! You have to be kidding me.

I hate that man, why him mum? WHY HIM?”

Caz replied, “It was a long time ago, I thought I was in love, I’m sorry darling. Well, I suppose it dispels the myth about your painting becoming true.”

Leo paused, he was about to agree with his mum, but then he remembered hiding behind the bin as Mr Vaughn walked past his painting on that fateful day.

“Well mum, not quite……”

The End.