Haunting Melody Part One

She slipped the key into the lock as silently as possible with trembling fingers. Home. Such a warm and comforting word; or at least that's what it's supposed to be.The door swung open, a dark maw with the ghostly white balustrades of the staircase, like shadowy teeth. She slapped at the light switch hastily and the bulb sprang into life illuminating a dark figure hanging at the bottom of the staircase. Her heart lurched, caught on her fear and raced like a bolting horse as she clutched the doorknob, paralysed for a moment. Finally her brain managed to connect with her reasoning processes telling her it was just a winter coat hanging from a peg.
Still trembling she shed her own coat and hung it next to the other, took her shopping into the back kitchen and began emptying the bags. She sincerely hoped that none of the other occupants of the house had seen her silliness; she knew they were in because they always were once evening darkened the skies. She heard the piano playing softly from the front room and smiled. Her mother was playing Clair De Lune again and she listened as she put the food away. The rest of the family was quiet today; perhaps she was going to get a few more minutes to herself, maybe watch a programme on TV. A folorn hope she realised, as her father breezed in to poke through her purchases.
"What have you bought these for?" he demanded, thrusting an accusing finger at the Hobnobs. "We always have digestives. You can take them back tomorrow," he barked. She sighed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. If she said nothing maybe he would go away. Her mother floated in on a waft of floral scent, "Darling, have you found my silk scarf yet? I want to wear it when I go out for dinner tonight." She watched her mother drift out without waiting for an answer and sighed again. It looked like it was going to be a busy night, for the family relied on her for company once she got in from work. Her father had left unnoticed and so she hurried her dinner preparations and settled down to eat on the sofa, determined to watch something before someone needed her again.
Great Aunt Sophie was next; creeping into the living room quietly and knitting silently in a darkened corner by the gas fire. She didn't mind Sophie; she never asked or demanded anything of her and left as quietly as she arrived. Her father sat down hard next to her and began he usual fidgeting and sighing; forcing her to take notice of him. It was no use to get up and go into another room because he always followed until she listened to him. It didn't really matter anyway, she knew, because it always ended in a litany of criticism and faults which hadn't changed in content since she was ten. She gazed past her father's ear, counted slowly as he spoke, then watched him rise and stalk out of the room: Sophie smiled timorously and crept out clutching her knitting to her chest. She sighed with relief and rested her head against the back of the sofa. Peace.
[continued in part two]