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        Elenor opened the driver’s door of her old Accord, and the smell washed over her like a wave. The pine tree swinging from her rear vision mirror had fought valiantly, but in the end was overwhelmed by the boxes lining her back seat.

The scent of old cloth had pushed into every surface, leaving no corner untouched. With that victory came the sweet reminder of years gone by. Dazzling fashion parades in the attic to millions of fans calling her name or hunting for pirate treasures on the moon if her brother pestered her enough.

Josie slid into the seat next to her ‘Where are we taking Nan’s stuff?’

‘Saint Vincents sweetie, other people might need it,’ Elenor said.

‘I think she would’ve loved that,’ Josie said.

She smiled at her daughter but winced as pain lanced out from the cut in her lip. She’d got it weeks ago from licking envelopes with her mother, the other half ran over her tongue. Her mother kept a large stack of thick papered envelopes in the kitchen cupboard that she used for her pen pal club. Elenor had taken up the hobby to spend some extra time with her mother once it was clear her health was deteriorating. She’d meant to get the cuts looked at, but they seemed so trifling all things considered.

Elenor’s throat clenched for the hundredth time today. It was heartbreaking remembering the strong, capable woman her mother used to be then watching her fall apart as the madness twisted and corrupted the best parts of her. In the end she was hateful, even fearful of her once loved hobby. “That’s how they get you” she used to say before throwing her pens and papers around the room.  

She always pictured her mother going peacefully in her bed after many years of doting on grandchildren, enjoying her retirement after providing for her family for so long. This was just… unfair.

Elenor’s husband had thought that someone in the club might have threatened her or scammed her. Months dragged by and after power of attorney was granted, they saw nothing out of the ordinary on her accounts. She was resting now in a high-care facility, but the writing was on the wall.

The Doctor’s words played through her mind again, twisting her stomach into knots; ‘This type of thing is hereditary, her mother likely had it too.’

They pulled up at a red light and she looked across at her daughter. She’d just started high school and was really coming into her own sense of style. 

She’s too young, it can’t be hereditary!

A horn blared to life behind her causing others in the line to echo in response. Elenor sank a little in her seat as she spurred them on through the green.

‘Sorry,’ Elenor said.

Josie leaned forward and turned the radio up ‘Worrying about assholes only makes them bigger.’

The knots in her stomach vanished and she felt the colour drain from her face. Elenor quickly shot a look at Josie and raised her finger…

‘What? Nan said it all the time.’

The heat evaporated and Elenor let out a tired laugh, feeling it take some of the week’s tension with it.

‘She sure did. Tell ya what… When you’ve got grandkids you can talk however you want. How is little Billy Traeger anyway?’.

‘Oh my god! For the last time, we’re just friends!’

‘Make sure he knows it, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.’

Josie rolled her eyes and stared out of the window, hoping the passing bushes would just swallow her and end this conversation.

‘Hey, is that scratching sound coming from the radio?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with the radio mum, not this one or the one in the house.’

They pulled into the parking lot at St. Vincents, the Accord’s suspension squeaking as they passed over the speed bumps and took a space close to the entrance. The scratching continued for a few seconds after she turned the car off.

Maybe it’s the suspen.. no, I heard it in the house too, what is it?

Elenor pressed at her belt, then her handbag, trying to recreate the noise. Nothing seemed to work, and she knew this would just bug her for the rest of the day like it always did. The start of the familiar headache kicked in as she felt the frustration swim its way from the top of her throat and into her head, burning merrily. Her tongue was throbbing at this point.

Josie grabbed a discarded trolley from the neighbouring space and started loading the musty boxes.

Didn’t even need to be asked, such a good kid.

This time Elenor ignored the pain, it was worth it. She locked up and quickly joined her daughter, wrapping an arm around her in a half hug as she pushed the trolley.

An older man wearing a blue apron held the door open for them as they approached. The wrinkles on his weathered skin doubled, flaring out around his eyes and the corners of his mouth as he smiled warmly at them.

‘You ladies are me favourite type o’ people, so giving. Yer sisters right?’

His eyes twinkled with mischief which made Elenor chuckle even more. Josie looked at the pair of them like they’d gone mad.

‘I’m Peter, it’s good to see ya both this morning. If all those are donations ya can bring’em to these empty tables over here.’

‘I’m going to look at some stuff over there, you got this mum,’

Elenor leaned into the trolley, following Peter as he led them passed tables stacked with clothes, books and other necessities. As she pushed by the second table she heard it again, more intense this time, followed by a series of tiny clicks.

Maybe it’s my bra?

Peter turned and started placing the boxes on to the table. Elenor rolled her shoulders and twisted at the waist, but it was no use. The sound had vanished.

‘Hurt yerself?’ Peter said.

‘No, no it’s nothing.’

‘Good, would hate fer something to happen to good people like you. Now, I just need ya to look over your donations as I lay’em out,’ Peter said.

‘How come?’

‘Saves trouble down the track, ‘mount a times supposedly good people come in ‘ere with boxes like this only to come back later yellin’ how I stole their family’s cook books,’ Peter said.

Peter started pulling items from the boxes, spreading them across the table. He let out a slow whistle, pointing to an old book.

‘That’s a scary one, gave me the willies,’ Peter said.

‘Yeah my mother loved horror novels, Ghost Story was her favourite.’

She placed the worn novel back in its spot, right next to something she’d nearly given up on.

‘My mother’s journal! I’ve been searching everywhere for that thing!’

‘The system works,’ Peter grinned.

Just as she picked it up the scratching started again, louder than ever, keeping a delirious beat with her throbbing tongue. She whipped her head about but couldn’t find the source, like a bite she couldn’t itch, but her persistent tormentor was nowhere to be seen.

Peter’s warm expression faded, concern rolled across his face like a cloud on a sunny day.

‘You sure yer ok miss?’

Elenor rubbed her fingers against her forehead ‘Yeah, I heard a text come through on my phone and I just remembered my daughter has it. Excuse me.’

The incessant scratching hounded her as she wove through displays, like an unwavering shadow. Josie was arm deep in a clothing wrack, pulling out some pieces just as Elenor came to a stop next to her.

‘Can I get these?’

‘Next trip sweetie, I’m not feeling the best right now.’

‘You got something.’

‘Someone accidently put your Nan’s journal in one of the boxes. Here, you can read it in the car.’

There’s got to be some Panadol or something at Mum’s.. anything!

They jerked out of the parking lot, swerving into traffic. Elenor cranked the radio up and put the windows down.

Just a few minutes and I’ll be there, maybe some whiskey will help.

Josie was flicking through the old journal for a few minutes before she turned the radio off and tapped at a page in the book.

‘Hey, this bit starts to get weird, I think its from just before Nan got sick,’

‘Are you sure dear, maybe you’re not reading it right.’

‘Nope, says it right here, over and over; “The scratching won’t quit - Why won’t it stop – It’s chasing me”. There’re pages of it.’

Oh god! Oh fuck!

Elenor’s stomach had turned to ice, it dropped so hard she could’ve sworn she heard it hit the floor. She pressed the accelerator harder, weaving between cars. She glanced into her rear-vision mirror almost hoping to see some giant insect clawing its way into her car.

It can’t be! I’ll get back to mum’s and call her doctor at the home; he deals with this stuff all the time.

Every little noise sent her eyes darting around the interior, madly cataloguing the most minute sounds. She hit a pothole and nearly gave herself whiplash trying to look in 17 directions at once. Everything has a source, and if she found it she would be ok. She had no intention of ending up like her mother.

‘Mum are you alright? You don’t look so great.’

The corners of Elenor’s mouth sprung across her face as she flashed her best smile.

‘Of course dear, why wouldn’t I be?’

Josie’s eyebrows sprang up just as quickly ‘Cause that’s the same smile you and dad slapped on after I heard you “moving furniture”, gross by the way.’

‘Just need the toilet, that’s all.’

The seatbelts pulled tight across the pair as they lurched to a halt in front of the garage. Elenor’s tongue pulsed as her heart raced, like it had a life of its own.

How can she not hear that?!

It was unbearable, she could feel it almost vibrating through her teeth. She shoved the door open and ran to the medicine cabinet, downing some painkillers.

‘Won’t be a sec sweetie!’

She took a few deep breathes, waiting for the pills to kick in. Finally, she felt the cacophony dwindle enough to get some answers. Elenor made her way to the living room and dialled Dr. Reynalds.

‘Hi Doctor, this is Elenor, Mavis Edwards’ daughter. We met a few weeks back.’

‘Ah yes, how can I help?’ the doctor said.

‘I just wanted to check how she’s doing; I was also hoping you could clarify something for me?’

‘Well, she’s had a rough time of it lately. Wouldn’t stop clawing at the side of her head, made some deep gouges. She still claims there are insects chasing her everywhere, but we’ve got her on some Thorazine now which seems to be settling her down,’ the doctor said.

‘Oh god!, I’m glad you’re there to look after her.’

‘We try our best,’ the doctor said.

‘So, in our last meeting you said this sort of thing was hereditary.. is there any medication my daughter and I could take to prevent this sort of thing?’

‘Sadly no, its usually a genetic predisposition. Environment and lifestyle can play a part in the onset but typically we don’t know until its symptomatic and by then…,’ the doctor said.

‘Ah, I see.’

‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ the doctor said.

‘No, you’ve been a big help. I’ve got some things to take care of anyway, thanks for your time.’

Elenor found Josie sitting at the kitchen table, poking through some of her mother’s old papers. She ran her hand over the well-loved timber, tracing the dents and grooves caused by errant spoons or plates. Her smile sent a tremor through her tongue and a whir in her ear.

How many generations have eaten here? How many more?

‘Hey mum, what’s this for?’ Josie said.

She pulled a yellowed A4 page from a pile of assorted stationery and slid it across the table. On it were names and addresses of people she’d never met.

‘That’s your Nan’s old contact list for her pen pal club. She used to write to people from around the country, sometimes even on the other side of the world.’

‘Wow, really? So I could write to someone at the Pyramids?’ Josie said.

‘Yes and no. People don’t live in the Pyramids… You’d also need to write in Arabic.’

‘Ah, right.’

‘That’s ok dear, I’d be really proud if you did write a letter in Arabic someday. Hey how about this one?’ Elenor pointed to one of the Canadian addresses on the list.

‘Great! Oh, can you show me how to start one off?’

‘But you use Instagram all the time, it’s the same thing.’

‘Mum.. that’s just cat pics and people getting messed up in UFC’.

‘Ok, grab another envelope from the cupboard, there’s only one left with this stuff.’

Josie opened the cupboard door and a writhing black mass of thumb sized shapes swelled like a rancid wave before scattering in a thousand different directions, fleeing from the light.

‘Oh gross!’

‘What! what is it?’ Elenor said.

‘There’s a billion cockroaches in here with the envelopes, do you think they laid eggs in them?’