Can’t remember when I last saw her. Three months ago? Four? You know what it’s like in these old apartment buildings, you give a nod to a neighbour by the mailboxes, but tenants come and go all the time. Mrs Whitelaw, that was it. No, I never did learn her first name. I heard though that they had to break the door down. And d’you know what they discovered? Chalk. The whole apartment was full of those little lumps you can pick up from the park flowerbeds. Mountains of chalk in every room.
Mrs Whitelaw? No, she was never found.
***
This is a 100-word story for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click here to read some more inspired by the picture (also this week provided by Rochelle) or here to join in and write your own.
If you’re so inclined it would be lovely if you would vote for my novel, Our Endless Numbered Days in the Edinburgh First novel award, and you’ll have a chance of winning a copy of all 56 novels nominated. (Scroll to the bottom of the page.)
Claire Fuller 
What a wonderful last line!
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Thanks Susan. I don’t know why but this week’s story came really easily
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She could chalk that up to experience?
Good piece.
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Ha ha. Thanks Mick.
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Ah! A former teacher I deduce. Abuse of school property then. Actually, it’s quite a sinister prospect – turning to chalk. Nicely done
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Perhaps. But I saw her picking them up from the parks (do those count as free). Thanks, Sandra!
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Dear Claire,
There’s always that neighbor who comes and goes and no one takes the time to know them. The chalk made its mark. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Your story reminds me of this Simon and Garfunkel piece. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YTgwY1Ld5s
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Oh that’s so weird. I wasn’t thinking of that song at all, but I know it well. S&G is the sound of my childhood, and perhaps those lyrics seeped in somehow. Thanks, Rochelle – a great picture this week.
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I’m a bit scared now.
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You should be. Maybe the chalk thing is catching.
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Dear Claire,
Well, chalk me down as one of the mystified. I will keep reading comments, but I understand that sometimes a mystery remains one while the characters (and readers) of a story look for answers. Luckily, I’ve got my Mystery file and three others from last week to help me with my search. As always, and this is a good thing, your writing is smooth and appears effortless. Well done.
Aloha,
Doug
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Don’t worry, Doug. I too am mystified. I have no idea what has happened to Mrs Whitelaw or why she collected chalk. Has she just moved house because there was no room left for her in her apartment, or has she turned to chalk, or something else entirely? I’m hoping a reader will let me know too.
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Silly humans, she is still there. Just because you can’t see her, doesn’t mean she is not sitting in her favorite armchair, sipping her fifth cup of tea, looking at all the folks running around her apartment. She is just waiting for everyone to go away, so she can step back through her magic portal.
See what you did, Claire. My imagination yet again escapes and runs around wild and crazy. All thanks to your fabulous story. 🙂
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Oh, I like that! Dear Mrs Whitelaw. And I like the idea of all the FF’s telling me what happened to her.
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Great story!
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Thanks, Emily.
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Great story, Claire. If someone dusts they might find Mrs Whitelaw! 🙂
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Hah – I like that. Might be a bit tricky to dust a mountain away.
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Death by chalk… love it – and strangely conjures up an instant image of Mrs W for me 🙂
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Death by Chalk would have been a good title.
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This, to me, is surreal. I see no meaning to the chalk yet it is wholly credible. The monologue seems spot on.
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There is no meaning to the chalk, or not that I can see. Thank you!
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Creepy!
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Kinda, yes.
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Wonderful, as attest the numerous comments here!
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Thanks Graham, I really appreciate it.
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I thought about doing something similar i.e. a neighbour who nobody had seen for a while (minus the chalk!)….but then I got distracted and ended up doing something else. Personally I like the idea of leaving people thinking WTF!, does us good to wonder what the heck we just read, occasionally. Cheers!
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Thanks Paul. The picture does really does make me think of someone who collects stuff and lives alone. I’ll be along and read yours shortly.
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It’s just as well they didn’t find a body there, how would you ever see the line around it amidst all that chalk. 🙂
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Hah! Exactly.
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I’ve never heard of chalk in flower beds. Is it really chalk? Lie the kind you write on the blackboard with?
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Yes! I live in a very chalky area of England. When I go for walks that’s what the ground is covered with. It seems quite normal to me.
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Very interesting. Where does it come from?
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It’s what the land is made of here – rather than limestone, sandstone, granite or whatever, we’re on chalk (think of the white cliffs of Dover – these are chalk and it spreads a long way along the south coast of England.)
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Very cool. Thanks for taking the time to explain it to me.
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A totally different kind of hoarder!
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She is! Thanks, Dale
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An interesting conversation about a poor and overlooked individual. I like to think she’s basking in the sun of Florida while those who ignored her wonder all the more! Well done!
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That would be a lovely thing. Thanks for reading and commenting.
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An interesting, fun mystery. I have such a visual of that room with its mountains of chalk. I think she is suffering from anaemia and you can’t tell that one of those mountains is actually Mrs W.
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Ah-ha! Yes, that would be it.
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Maybe she went to Chalk Hoarders Anonymous, went clean and moved. Great story Claire.
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Hah! A great idea.
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Loneliness happens to many people but the chalk now that is another matter. Thanks for a great read.
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Perhaps the pieces of chalk became her friends…
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Intriguing piece of work.
Love it.
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Thank you!
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Really intriguing Claire.
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Thank you!
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That was fun!
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Thanks!
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A great ending. It could also be the beginning to another short- or even long- piece of fiction. Great job. I love the narrative voice.
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Thanks Emilio. I’m pleased you liked it.
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We have a mystery on our hands. I think every time Mrs. Whitelaw added a piece of chalk to her mountain, a little piece of her disappeared. She was replaced by chalk. Great writing, as always.
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Oh, I like that idea. Creeping chalk disease. Deadly.
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I lived in a buidling like this in Brooklyn that had people you saw at the mailbox or at the front door. I was young and shy and never spoke to anyone. Now, I would. I like the way you express that. The ending was a pow moment. This reads to me like the reader should decide what the writer is trying to convey. I loved it. Very nice interpretation of the photo prompt.
Isadora 😎
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It’s sad that so many of us live like that – not really knowing our neighbours. Glad you liked the story.
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Where I am living now is so different. All of the neighbors know each other. We are there for each other in cases of emergencies or illness – like when we had a hurricane a few years back. I treasure this now. We learn as we age. 😎
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That’s so nice to hear. Long may it continue.
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Thank You … 😎
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Well, I have no idea what happened the old crone, Claire, but you’ve made me not mind either. This is my kind of story: weird, creepy and utterly mystifying. I love it.
-David
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Thanks David, that means a lot, because I love your style of weird, creepy stories!
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A chalk hoarder? Or someone who’s chalk took over? A mystery indeed, Claire.
janet
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Yes, not even I know the answer. Thanks, Janet.
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If all that chalk was Mrs Whitelaw she must have been a very large woman. Well written and scary.
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Anything is possible (in fiction). Thanks for reading and commenting, Liz.
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Wonderful story, and what fun to read all the speculations in the comments. I think she moved and wrote an angry letter to the owners about all that chalk accumulating in that apartment. Who can live in such a place, and please give her her rent back. 🙂
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So it wasn’t her after all? Or she pretended it wasn’t. Nice idea.
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Like Janet – my first thought was a “chalk hoarder” – and I hoped the walls were black so you could have seen the writing on the wall.
Randy
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Yes, I think she’s a chalk hoarder. Thanks, Randy.
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Intriguing story Claire. I often wonder what goes on behind the curtains in those old apartment buildings.
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Yes, I think there are probably lots of strange (and interesting) people out there.
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A great voice to this.
I hear Mr Cheddar across the hall keeps rooms full of old cheese – they never got on.
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Hahaha – very clever.
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I love your mastery of both surprising and fascinating concrete details and lovely twists at the end.
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Thanks so much Hilary!
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Now that’s a mystery. I’m going to believe that Mrs Whitelaw is away on a world cruise, and will return shortly to continue with her hobby of chalk collecting. Good story.
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Hah – I too hope she is well and having fun. Thanks, Margaret.
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Mountains of chalk? I wonder if she got erased then 😉
Wonderfully written as always.
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Oh, that’s the best solution to the mystery I’ve read. Lovely. And thanks for reading.
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