Eraser :: 01

Eraser :: 01

It's often seen as a nusence instead of an art. Only the truly gifted works ever stand out to the public eye. It's the 3-D Sidewalk Art and the Murals of 9/11 that are ever regarded as anything special. Everything else thrown together with hoodlums and the rest of the culture we turn our noses up at. This is usually with good reason, too.

Tagging seems to take no skill and not a drop of passion; much less anything beyond a first grade education and two days on the street. To most of us it's just lines laid down as quickly as possible to claim a certain space for some drop-out kid we don't care about. And for the most part that's true, as far as anyone's concenered.

So, let's be honest. When it vanishes out of thin air, who even cares that it's gone? Furthermore, who even notices? The only people who give a damn are the artists themselves and maybe a couple of their friends. Everyone else who ever takes note of the lack of graffiti laughs to themselves, and with a great joy tips their hat and screams 'Good Riddance!'

So for those taggers who actually try to make their art artistic; for those who really put to work the natures of colour and composition in their tagging, they are at a loss. There is no one to stand for them aside from themselves. When the work they put real effort and heart into is gone, there's no one to give a damn.

And Ricardo hated it.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Middle school served best as an alibi. During the day they earned their 'D's and by night they claimed the town as their own. They fought over walls in the Factory District, but never face to face. They painted over other people and other painted over them.

Dustin had found a white washed wall a couple of nights before. The fuzz wouldn't be back in the area for a long while. He kept the place hush-hush. Finding cleared walls was a treasure. Hopefully no one else in the class had found it. Since their school was closest to the Factory District, they often had first dibs.

Ricardo had been planning his mark for a while now. It was his most intensive tag yet. He was saving it for a wall like this. He had it all worked out in coloured sharpie in the back of his English book. His paints were capped tight in his pack. He prayed he wouldn't get searched this one day. If he let this night go by, he might never get this tag up.

And it was on a day like this when Courtney secured a place in the pack. She was never into getting paint on her hands in class, but it didn't mean she would never get them dirty. She's the one who slipped them past security- in and out of school. She was a ballerina outside of class. If anyone could attract the eye or slip around it, it was her. And that's exactly what she did for Dustin and Ricardo.

When the school day had ended, they followed her lead down the back hall, through the kitchen and in direct course for the Factory District. Light on her feet and well paced, she had no trouble keeping up with the boys who had been on the edge of their seats for three days. The only time the three weren't running was when they were sprinting. To their luck, they had vanished into the Factory District just in time to loiter within a blocks distance- right where they could see that fresh white-washed wall.

"Hey!" They winced. "Where ya think ya goin'?!"

"We're lookin' for Pops!" Dustin shouded back. "My old man said-"

"Bullshit!" The worker spat. "You-"

"Uncle said." Courtney stomped with her fists to her sides. "That we were gonna be able to be at work with him today. Okay?"

"His old man, and you're uncle." The worker laughed. "You expect me to believe this shit?"

"Uncle said!" She repeated with her voice cracking, "That we could-"

"Alright!" The worker threw up his hands. "Calm down before I put in a restraining order. Go find your uncle or father-in-denial or whatever that fucker is. I don't wanna see you here, or I'm calling the cops."

"Yessir." Ricardo nodded. They fell back into a building and hid behind the crates. The worker waited around for a while, and then was called back inside. They waited a few minutes before stirring again. Ricardo found another place to hide in the garage so that he could still see the wall from where he was. "Thanks, guys."

"Don't thank us so quick." Dustin smiled. "Alright, these bozos will be gone soon. We just gotta wait them out, and hope no one else shows up."

"Why can't we just wait until nightfall...?" She stood to the side, practicing behind the taller crates. Dustin was worried she'd attract attention, but no one was around for now. He knew she'd stop if they asked her to. "Or is that too late?"

"Normally, it's not." Ricardo sighed, "But this is big. I don't want to have to go home and then someone go over it before I even finish."

"Gotcha." She nodded.

"Sure you've got everything?" Dustin opened up his own back for the prep materials. He looked at Ricardo's pack, which seemed a bit empty to him.

"I forgot my homework," He laughed, "But I'm set for this."

"As long as you have what's important." Dustin said. Courtney smiled.

They had to move from their hiding spot to remain unseen for the next half hour. They took turns glaring at the wall, making sure that their claim was safe. Most wouldn't show until nightfall, but they weren't going to allow some sixth-grader to wander in and start doodling. Those thirty minutes dragged. Every time a worker walked out, they huddled into a darker coner and waited for him or her to dissappear. Their hearts raced with every footstep, and they loved every second of it. The wait was like a rollercoaster that never lost speed.

Then the people started to drive away. One after another, workers vanished. They knew some would never leave- but those weren't the ones they had to worry about. One at a time, then two, time cards punched and soon the place was barren of every half-assed bastard. They watched with glee as the worker from before stratled his motorbike and rode away. When the occupancy was down to the truly dedicated, the three slipped from their hiding places and out into the waning sunlight.

It was a pointless thing to say, but he couldn't hold it back. Ricardo whipped out the cans and ran up the the wall. "This is it."

"I'll keep watch down here. Courtney, watch the windows." The smile was sewn into Dustin's face. It spread to Courtney while she found the perfect place to perch. Ricardo's smile was his own, and wider than either of theirs.

Ricardo flipped open his notebook and ignored all the notes he had ever taken. Studing his sketch for the last time, he shook the cans to life. He knelt over the image for a good thirty seconds, and with a great smile, finally stood up to face the wall. He gave the can a few more shakes and finally let the paint loose.

Detail after outline, layer upon layer of paint, he even went to the extent of putting his hands into. Once the paint was out, Ricardo was far to into his art to hear anything aside from the aerosol cans. His heart dived into the very movements of his arms, his entire core aflame. His eyes were so wide they could have rolled out of his sockets. He poured everything into his work, and with every ounce of himself he poured, he gained two ounces more. His work was born from him and he was rebirthing within it. It was just Ricardo and his creation, and nothing in the universe could seperate him from it.

Not even a couple of false alarms could tear at the bond. For the most part, Courtney and Dustin watched in awe. Every now adn again they remembered to look around them to protect the artist at work. The build mesmorized them. They had seen him work before, but nothing blazed like this one. They couldn't stop smiling and it was starting to be painful. The blobs of colour transformed into letters in a style they had grown to know even in their dreams.

In bold, brillaint letters read 'Ricardo'. He dropped the empty can and took a step back. He admired his handiwork for a few minutes. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and and smiled one last time. "Okay."

"Ready?" Dustin almost whispered it. Ricardo nodded. He packed up the cans, wiped his face on his shoulder, and finally stood up to go. Courtney jumped down from her perch. With nothing to pack up, she was ready when they were. "Let's get out of here."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, they sprinted from class again. They dumped their books in their lockers and carrie dnothing on their backs. Without bags they were rushed through security, and off onto the streets. They stopped only to catch their breath and then kept going. Their faces alight, they dashed down to the wall. They skid to a halt before the wall, regardless of the workers that scolded them.

And their hearts shattered.

Instead of the work glowing proudly, it was gone. It hadn't been painted over by other taggers. The wall was as white as it had been yesturday. Ricardo stared at it with the wind knocked out of him. "Dustin?"

"Yeah..."

"I thought the police weren't coming for a while."

"They didn't." The worker from yesturday cooed with a cruel smile. "Matter of fact, I got no idea who did this. All I know is that you hoodlums better get going before the police finally do show up."

Crushed and confused, they fled. They said nothing but thought the same thing. They escaped the Factory District. They didn't speak until they were back in the neighborhood. Panting with their hands on their knees, they didn't look up. They didn't dare.

"Alright, we're not going back there." Ricardo hissed. "Never. I don't care if it has the best walls. That wasn't cool."

"Was it me," Courtney breahted, "Or did it look sanded? Like someone took sandpaper and ground it off?"

"Who the fuck cares?" Dustin hissed. he felt sorry once he said it, but he didn't show it. "It's gone. Go home. I'm calling in sick tomorrow."

Ricardo and Courtney did the same.