It was a Saturday night in December, at one am, and Jane had finals tomorrow. Instead of studying, though, she could be found under a mound of blankets, eating chips and watching old Wheel of Fortune episodes on YouTube. 

She used to watch them on her grandfather’s lap when she was little. Her grandfather passed a year ago, died of a lung infection, and the Wheel of Fortune episodes were comforting, a piece of him forever with her. So that’s what she was doing to calm her exam nerves. 

She watched the bright colors and eager eyes of the contestants, and, as always, tried to guess which word was half-formed on the screen. The theme this time was “Around the House”. It was a seven-letter word, and so far the third letter was confirmed as an “a” and the sixth letter was an “e”.

“It's ‘blanket’,” she mumbled, chewing her lip. “The word has to be ‘blanket’.” That’s when it happened. God, it was horrifying. At first, it was just off-putting, just plain old bad timing; the way the host’s face turned to the screen, slightly cocked as if he was listening to her. Then he smiled, and his face cracked practically in half with the effort, “Ooooh, not quite.” His empty eyes locked with hers when he spoke. “You guessed wrong. That’s not so… fortunate for you, I’m afraid.” A small chuckle escaped the Host’s lips. 

Just like that, the video stopped and an advert filled the screen. Jane endured twenty seconds of a McDonalds montage with a heartbeat that was an earthquake inside her ribs. One more ad… but this one is black, with white static flashing erratically. The silence that hung in the air around her was thick enough to be cut with a knife until it wasn't. 

The familiar crackle of old radio washed over her, and Jane could hear singing all around her, very faintly.

“H-hello? You have lost me- lost me to time. But I know you; I have a package for you…” Was it sleep deprivation and nerves making her see and hear things? She blinked, and Target was advertising their “Back to School” sale. But even as she inhaled sharply at the change, it switched back. The crackling was louder now, reverberating through her very bones.

“Have you lost yourself? What do you see in the mirror (in the mirror) baby…” The words became garbled then, ran together incoherently, until, “You started my game, so play till the end.” And so it went, that last phrase repeating for an hour and 27 minutes. Jane knows this because the screen stayed in its original format, and she sat petrified watching the longest ad of her life, eyes occasionally darting hopelessly to the date and time across the top of her laptop. 

It was almost 2:30 am when the sound of radio static became unbearable loudness, and her black screen turned a blinding white, burning a square of light behind her eyelids. Where are my neighbors during all of this, she managed to think. Why can’t they complain when it’s useful for once? But if anyone outside her apartment could see or hear anything unusual, they let it be. 

The Wheel of Fortune stage came into focus, empty with very dim lighting. Then, a light. Under the glare of a studio bulb sat the Wheel itself, unmoving. Then pat pat pat came soft footsteps. Jane knew they were from the video, logically. The Host came into view on her screen, and besides, her door was locked. She knew it was locked, she must have checked it 15 times upon coming home. But God, she could have sworn there was a groan between the footfalls exactly like the one that the loose floorboard in front of her bed makes. 

She had five blankets piled over her, but suddenly Jane was shaking. There was a cold sweat dripping down her back, and dripping down her long nose onto her lips. She wiped her face anxiously with her hoodie sleeve. The Host stood by the Wheel and tapped its rim with long fingers.

“What are you? What do you-“ she took a steadying breath. “What do you want from me?” The Host gave a slow shake of its head. “One question at a time, Jane,” it demanded, with a little tsk tsk of its tongue.

She shoved her fist in her mouth to smother a scream. A list of colorful expletives raced through her thoughts, and she shared a few of them with the being on her scream.

“Well, if you don’t have any more questions.” As the Host started to speak, Jane felt her lips slip together like magnets and her eyes widened in alarm. “Then we’ll continue with the game, shall we?” That face-splitting smile was back, and its customer service voice clashed horribly with its pitch-black, dead eyes.

Before she could even try to respond, Jane watched terror-stricken as the Host stretched its long fingers and spun the Wheel. Seconds passed, and then minutes, with it just staring at her. Smiling. Finally, it said, “You guessed wrong Jane. For that you must pay. Rules are rules.” With that, the creature turned towards the Wheel and she knew it would all be over soon. Whatever happened, whatever it landed on, this sick game would end.

If you've, by some miracle or curse, never seen the Wheel of Fortune, allow me to pause and describe the options the wheel may land on. Similar to most raffle wheels, each wedge is a different color, and most contain numbers, dollar values, though some say things such as “Bankrupt” or “Loose a Turn”. 

This Wheel, however, was different. The wedges alternated between red and back; a black wedge had red writing on it and vice versa. Options included questions, such as “Missing an Eye?”, or “Oh, was that your dog?” as well as statements like “Wednesdays are not good for you” or “She isn’t your friend.” There were penalties as well, like the original. Some were direct: “You will go missing. They will never hear from you again.” Others were more vague: “The taste of that which you most dread will forever stain your tongue.” 

Jane did wonder, for a brief moment before the Wheel started turning, what disapproval would taste like. But then the red and black blurred before her and all she felt was panic. Panic, and the sensation of every artery in her body pulsing manically as her brain sent emergency signals to her heart. After what felt like a decade, the Wheel slowed and its colors became distinguishable again.

That wretched creature - that thing - had turned at an ever greater angle by then, with its back to her, and it was blocking her view of the results completely. Its head spun slowly, reaching 180 degrees. It stepped aside and declared, just as Jane read it to herself in her head, “Too Late!” The Host's outline flashed before her from the foot of her bed. 

Jane hadn’t been seen leaving her apartment since the start of last October. Oddly enough, when the police searched her apartment late last year, any trace of her was long gone. They were too late.

Much too late.