A Place with You in Mind

The entrance to a large, conventional house opened slowly, revealing a figure standing in some of the light from the outside. The figure's name was Claudia to most, a name most might never forget if they met her. The woman was dressed in a matching cream-colored business pant suit, with a red blouse underneath the jacket, a shade of red matching her ankle-high boots. She stepped over the threshold, looking around curiously at the domicile's surroundings.

Before stepping in, Claudia literally didn't know what to expect. The outside structure seemed unique, yet similar to so many houses she's seen. There were none to compare it to though, as this one was out in the middle of nowhere, and nothing neighboring it in sight. The interior reminded her a lot of the house she grew up in, for better and for worse. After years of a shitty childhood, her only joys in life then were playing the piano and the prospect of leaving her terrible old-fashioned parents and West Virginia town behind. She didn't let it bother her, as she enjoyed touring new places in the Midwest now, like this one.

Walking across the entrance, heels gently clicking against the wood floor, she surveyed the furniture and structure like a real estate agent or potential home owner. It looked appealing so far, even despite the potential changes to be made. Claudia had enough walking room to comfortably see everything she wanted to. A couch, and two love seats, no TV, a stairway leading to another floor near the entrance, and a black grand piano near the back of the room. It all had a good feng shui feeling to her, like everything was more or less in an acceptable place. The lighting, usually brighter than today, was dim and subtle, much to the delight of the woman. She touched the patterned walls of white with thin black-stripped lines.

"Pretty, but could be better," she spoke out loud in a mountainy accent. Out of her pocket, she pulled out a cigarette pack, gracefully placing one between her pink lips, and took in a slow, satisfying inhale after lighting it. A stream of smoke blew into the air, having pink coloring a slightly stronger consistency than normal cigarette smoke. It hung above Claudia as she stared at the wall.

After a few minutes, she reached out to the wall, tracing some of the black lines with the whites of her French manicure. She felt them over and closed her eyes, trying to envision the perfect look. Hushed tones were whispered, changes Claudia wanted were made to almost no one in particular. She could imagine the touch of her fingertips changing the shape of the wallpaper in some parts, seeing the lines bend and curve in her own mind. The smoke that hung in the air never dissipated, but wafted toward the ceiling until it caressed the nearest wall like her hand did, smokily covering the wall and making similar changes of their own. All the while, a beautiful piano solo started playing in her mind, and it just played louder and more intricately the more she thought of it, eventually from the direction of the grand piano in the room.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she stepped back to see the changes she thought of implemented. The striped wallpaper how was a white rose floral design over a dark navy-colored background in her eyes, blooming all over the expansive room. Beethoven played on the piano as if on cue, adding to the overall ambiance of the room.

"Much better." Another drag of the cigarette and more pink smoke fill the air, trailing behind her like an animated supplicant.

"What is this room called again?" she asked no one in particular. As if expecting a response, the room itself responded "the frontal lobe," quieter than a mouse.

"Ah yes, where all the thinkin' happens."

"Yes," the disembodied voice whispered back.

"I can't help but approve of what I see here."

The room spoke no words, but sighed contentedly.

Parallel to the house's entrance and near the piano, there was a room leading deeper into the house. Some of the smoke trailing the suited woman slid under the door's gap at the bottom. The door opened to a long, surprisingly narrow hallway. It was very simplistic in design, like a section of an old-style country house. There were several doors on either side, only one set were directly across from each other. The sound of her heels clicked mixed with the piano playing behind her and echoed throughout the hallway as her leisurely steps headed toward the end.

At the back of the hall, there was another staircase leading to upstairs and maybe a basement, and a door next to it. The gap at the bottom was alit with pink coloring, similar to her lip-liner and her smoke. She gripped the old-fashioned white door handle and entered the new room. It was a closed-off back patio to the house, furnished only with a few chairs for lounging in, and long windows spread across the room. Outside, all that was visible was pink smoke, very similar to what she blew from her lips every so often. She could only smile at the hazy, colored sight before her.

"The occipital lobe, yes?"

"Yes," a voice whispered back.

"I've always wondered why this is kept in the back."

She took a seat in the nearest rocking chair and stared at the outdoor smoke absent-mindedly and happily.

She pushed off one heel to start a rocking motion as she looked. "Despite what ya see, I wonder what ya want to see."

Seconds later, an opaque, oversized mirrored view of Claudia's face pierced the haze and greeted her sight. It smiled at her, and the normal-sized Claudia smiled back, observing her expertly-done make up and supermodel features. It winked at her, and she got up to leave the room and peruse the rest of the property.

From the end of the hallway, she trailer her hands outward to touch the walls, dragging her nails, concentrating with her eyes shut for seconds before seeing the trail of bright pink carnation-flowered designs behind her until she reached the doors lined up across from each other.

She opened both simultaneously, their length long enough that the small lock mechanism sticking out nearly touched each other. With both doors wide open, each looked like the smaller hallways that led to the outside. From her pocket, she retrieved a fresh cigarette. The sound of lighting it was suddenly, artificially louder, more hollow, as was the sound of her first exhale. Heels clicked across the wood floor with the same quality, along with her voice.

"These sounds are so lovely. Your temporal lobes are so impressed with them, these sounds that echo through here. To hear a lighter click reminds you of me, to hear heels click reminds you of me. Beethoven, or any piano playin', reminds you of me. To hear me reminds you of what I mean to you, and how ya can't get me out of ya head."

As that voice resounded across the hallway, her words reminded her of something, and she promptly close the door, still hearing the faint echoes of exactly what she stressed as important or meaningful. She returned to the back-end of the hall, but walked up the stairway this time. At the top of the stairs was looked like a door to an attic of an old house. Her fingernails tapped against the old white door.

"What the hell was this part called again?"

"P..parietal lobe."

"Right, right. Kind of an uninspired name for it if ya ask me."

Opening the door, the woman walked into a huge white void, off-setting the color of her suit, stretching far beyond what her eyes could see.

"The scope of awareness like this never ceases to amaze me, but neither does this."

The woman stretched out her arms and the fingers of both hands, as it to get a grip on something with an extreme width for her thin frame. From that pose, she closed her eyes and began closing the distance between her hands. If anyone could see her, they might have the impression of watching a delusional woman trying to deflate an invisible balloon. The delusion was powerful enough as the horizon darkened, blackened, and closed in on her position, until she stopped moving her hands. There was maybe 10 feet left of the void surrounding her, while Claudia's French tips touched and enclosed a rounded shape.

"Spacial awareness, custom settin'," she laughed to herself, before throwing her arms out and re-establishing the white void. She felt a whoosh around her at the reverting, but the only sound was of her own voice and breathing. Satisfied, she opened the door behind her and strutted downstairs, positively ecstatic at all these new features she thought about playing with.

Back in the hallway, she looked over the rooms and realized how miscellaneous they all looked to her. Other than the previously-entered doors, they all looked the same to her. None of them were marked much to her dismay. It was an annoying guessing game she found herself playing, but she did play for what she wanted to hit next.

"Hmm...emotions, emotions. Where are ya, emotions? Ya got to b-"

She was cut off by a creaking sound coming from one of the doors, made ajar by someone or something she was unaware of. Instead of feeling fear, curiosity made her approach the door and open it wide, exposing the insides. It looked like a cluttered, yet somehow highly organized combination of broom closet and office. The most regulated part of the house by far.

"This must be that big limbo...gland, I think it was."

"Limbic system," she was corrected.

"Whatever, it's the chewy emotional center I was lookin' for."

She knew there was more to it than just emotions, but the last she researched it, it was a clutter of several functions that slightly confused her, but sounded important none-the-less. At the back of the room looked like a fuse box of some sort. She guessed it was "the Insula, or Insult or somethin' like that." Navigating her way through the over-crowded room, and opening the box, she looked at all the regulators and dials inside, thinking about a simple solution to the complication. She really didn't have to mess with it, but was too curious to let it remain there untouched.

There was a screen indicating what looked like temperature in Farenheit. She touched one of the levers, thinking about what would make the most impact, being surprised at how just her touch affected the number, raising it by a few .01s the longer she touched it. It knew her touch, and that seemed to be enough for her. All ten of her fingers caressed every dial in the box, one-by-one, until the room was becoming noticeably hotter for her. She left it open as she walked back toward the threshold of the room, but not before taking a very long drag on her cigarette, and depositing the smoke throughout the room until everything was covered in pink. She spoke as her words were carried over the wisps.

"Ya can taste the sweetness of the smoke, the breathtakinly cool scent or my warm touch. Feel the connection between us. Feel it strongly, deeply, like we've known each other for much longer than ya could've ever imagined. Never forget what feelins ya have for me."

She closed the door, imaging every crevice soaking in the vapors. As she walked back towards the main entrance, for a bit of rest, she heard something strange - the piano solo had stopped.

For the first time since she entered the house, a small tinge of uncertainty came over her. She didn't exactly know what to expect when she came in the house, but everything seemed to be going her way, in her eyes, until now. She had a guess of what it was, but approached the front of the house, cautiously intrigued to see what it really was.

Stepping through the door, it was mostly the way she left it, with a few key exceptions. The dim electric lights occasionally flickered brighter, a part of the wall lost its floral design and went back to its original striped coloring. And of course the keys of the piano were static. Claudia sighed in annoyance, thinking of what could have caused these issues. Her nails tapped on the piano's back in contemplation, until the piano started playing again. A Stravinsky solo.

Claudia shook her head in deeper annoyance, nearly in agitation of that choice of music.

"No one told me this house was haunted. Ya'd think the brochure woulda mentioned that."

She sat down on the nearest loveseat, while a vague apparition sat on the couch next to her, barely able to make out the face or any other details. Best she could tell is that it was male.

"Previous owners almost never reveal everything about the property to strangers," a slightly booming voice surrounded them, as if speaking on the ghost's behalf.

"I'll have to bring that up with the realtor."

"This house was never for sale," the voice spoke stronger.

"I am giving ya credit, cause ya did surprise me in all this. I was sure I'd go uncontested here."

Claudia got up to walk back to the hallway, but found the door firmly locked, no matter how much she struggled. Out of nowhere, the apparition leaned against the wall near the door, his mere presence undoing the wallpaper he leaned against. She sat back down in the love seat next to the ghost who'd looked like he never left his seat.

"Why were you so sure of it?" he asked her.

She put out her last cigarette in a nearby ashtray and lit another with more dramatic flair than usual. She slowly, calmly took a drag on it and blew it all into the air above them.

"This looked like a pretty vacant place if ya asked me. A bit outdated too. The previous owner, what's his name, coulda sprung for a decent redecorater."

"George, the current owner's name is George."

She waved her hands over the sections of walls still bearing white roses.

"George, previous owner, ya can't tell me my preferences aren't better."

"I can, especially if you have a problem with Stravinsky" he spoke confidently.

"Beethoven is timeless, Stravinsky just feels aged."

"You're one to talk about 'style' in that case, and in case you haven't figured it out, there was sentimental value in the original setting."

"Highly overrated reasonin', but to each their own."

Claudia looked around, noting the lights weren't flickering anymore and were maintaining a brighter setting.

"So what's the plan now? Am I to sit here and watch ya undo all my hard work?"

"No, you'll be leaving soon."

"That doesn't sound like a good host to me."

"And you don't sound like an invited guest."

They both smiled contemptuously at each other, both plotting their next possible move. Claudia felt a section nearby, somewhere in the room that seemed an important part that she overlooked. It was directly below them, she'd concluded. The apparition had a signature about him, and she could sense a concentrated part of it under her. She couldn't remember the name, but she knew it had something to do with interpreting the movements of others. She wondered if George used that to feel her movements around the house, even predict where Claudia would venture out to.

"The Basal Ganglia, in case you were wondering."

"Who comes up with these names?" she asked.

"Better men than me, than you too."

"I've never found a man better than me."

Claudia looked the form up and down, noting how much more detailed he was becoming as the seconds passed, almost resembling an unfinished living cartoon character at that stage.

"Still haven't, Mr. Haint."

She at least knew why George hadn't moved to vacate her from the premises completely yet. He was trying to feel his way around to make sure that what she changed was gone. She had a signature herself and maybe it was easier to keep her there to identify what was being removed, like giving a dog a cloth with a scent to help it sniff out its target. He didn't seem to notice the pink smoke above them that slowly moved away from both of them and under the hallway door's gap. It moved stealthily through the hallway, not bothering to contend with whatever might be undoing her influence, but headed directly to a part of the house she had not visited yet, and if she remembered the room right, could make all the difference.

The pink smoke traveled across the floor until it reached the stairs at the end, and moved down to reach a new door. It covered the surface of it as if to assess what it covered. After a few moments, instead of twisting the door handle, it slipped into the keyhole of the old-fashioned door.

Back in the main room, Claudia saw the expression change on her host's face, as if noting something was wrong.

"Ya look weary. What's the matter Mr. Haint?" she asked innocently.

"N-nothing." He looked in the direction of the door, trying to figure out why he felt strange all of a sudden.

"Oh, ya had me weary for a second. It's good to hear that nothin's the matter."

The apparition felt part of his barely-embodied self twitch a little.

"Nothin's the matter, nothin' at all."

He heard her words, and against his better judgment almost believed them. Wanted to, thinking things were going his way.

"Excuse me, I need to c-"

"Ya don't want to go," Claudia interrupted him.

"What?" he asked confused, standing stark still, processing why he couldn't move to leave.

"Ya'd rather stay," the female voice spoke with confidence.

He found himself standing upright, and staying that way, despite his insistence that his legs go forward.

"The Cerebellum, now that term I remember pretty well. I don't understand the origins of most of these words, but dammit if this one doesn't sound sexy to me."

He wanted to turn around to look at her, but his head had the same problem the rest of his body did.

"I think ya wanna find yourself in my hand."

Before he could process it, he turned to see Claudia with an outstretched hand, and struggled in vain against placing his cheek on her palm as she stroked it.

"Motor skills and movements, planning and timin' of actions, and all that good stuff. I was savin' that for last, but maybe I shoulda made that more of a priority. But who knew you could form ya own avatar here while I was here too, use it to mess with my redecorating. And who knew my 'signature' accessin' the Cerebellum meant that even the movement of ya avatar is under my control. Really fascinatin' results so far."

The look on his animated face suggested he was about to cry.

"Aww, poor baby. Don't like where ya are at this point?"

Claudia giggled at how his head tried to move to shake.

"Ok, I can extend a-mite mercy ya way."

Some of the pink smoke at the Cerebellum let up and he fell to the floor out of exhaustion.

"How's that?"

He didn't bother to look at her, but his legs got up and tried to make a dash for the hallway door.

Claudia's anticipation let her hands to quickly come together so her French tips touched in a familiar motion. His dash was cut short as everything but a foot in-front of him was pure darkness.

"Do you know where ya are now?"

He heard her mocking question, but still couldn't believe his eyes. It looked like had he gone any further, he would've fallen off the space in-front of him and into a black hole of an oblivion; it looked like a section of the main room cut-out and rounded. He was blind to everything outside of the space. The blackness approached him and he literally jumped back a few feet, noting Claudia laughing from behind and how it looked like she'd taken a step back. He swallowed in fear on the floor while she towered over him, knowing exactly where they were, easily guided by the signature that was still left all over the house. She couldn't see it directly, but could feel exactly where to go.

She released her fingertips from themselves, testing whether the small space would remain if she moved her hands; there was no effect. She was thankful for not having to keep her hands like that all the time, and for knowing how to expand it again. Her steps moved with more authority than ever, the absolute center of the space that wasn't darkness. She stepped to the door previously locked to her, watching it open at her insistence, feeling the cowering, faded man behind her stay close to her for fear of falling. She didn't know if he'd really fall away or get sucked up in darkness temporarily, or even if he'd be safe if he did. Claudia didn't really care to dispel George's fears; he was much more agreeable this way.