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Dread. The single, perfect word to describe how you felt as you tightly gripped your steering wheel. The wide open roads singled you out, tossed further into the sea of obscurity with each bump you hit. You can’t recall how it happened; one wrong turn leading you to current turmoil. You were lost – sure of it. Lost, and the only way back on track was with the assistance of another – if you’d ever came across anyone.
A few weeks prior, you had won a luxurious vacation for a weeks day at some fancy resort. Most likely a company thing; given you don’t recall signing up for it and you received the news at work. One moment you’re doing your job, and the next your hands were clasped by a strange man with an iron grip and a flashy smile – congratulating you on the win. Due to some error on their end, you had to get there on your own with a car provided by them. This wasn’t a terrible deal since the drive was only twelve hours and you were allowed to keep the car – until your phone died and you had to rely on your own navigation skills.
You remain on lookout for any place to receive directions, the last fifty miles was nothing but mountains and desolate side roads. As luck would have it, you eventually spot a sign for a diner a few kilometers ahead. You make a beeline for the exit as it approaches; the smooth asphalt road fading into bumpy gravel and dirt.
You drive down a narrow path till you reach the establishment; walls painted a faded orange. The air stood still despite the dust filled parking area, time frozen in the mid hours of day. You park in one of the many vacant spots and head for the door. A bell’s chime signals your arrival; multiple heads turning in your direction including the lone waiter tending to another guest.
“I'll be with you in just a second! Take any seat you’d like.”
You do as told, sitting in a booth by a window. A TV hung overhead, images fading in and out through a fog of static. What you could see seemed to be a reading of lottery numbers; the announcer an ink blot in a suit beside the bold lettering. Aside from you, there's less than a dozen people in the diner. An older couple, a group of young adults around your age or older, and so on. All were enamored with their own lives, chatting amongst each other while they waited. A few eyes glanced your way, but you paid little mind.
Although the place was far from packed, the next time you see the waiter they’re carrying multiple orders. Balancing the plates, they have no time to figure out whose order is whose, calling out to the others as an alternative. In the commotion, they nearly trip over their own feet and send food flying – something you notice and decide to help with.
“Can I help you?” You ask, bracing your arms beneath one of the trays as they regain balance.
“Y-yes. Thank you.” Clearly flustered, the waiter hands off one of the trays to you – pointing in the direction of its table. You set it down and return to your own table to wait for them to finish. Finally, they reach you, pen in hand and a soft smile on their face. They place a number stand on the table; the number is scratched but still somewhat eligible.
“Thanks again for your help. What can I get for you?”
“Actually, I was hoping if you could help me with some directions?”
“Oh, sure. If you can wait a minute, I’m about to go on break.”
Once their break begins, you discuss the directions and other things that come by in passing. You, your trip and them, their life in the town not too far beyond the diner. Jamie, as their nametag read, had grown tired of small town life. They planned to leave as soon as the opportunity arose, even throwing their hat into the ring for the lotto. You had noticed them looking around throughout your conversation, but didn’t know the reason. You look up at the television, the final number yet to be read. You could have sworn the listing had began before you arrived, shouldn’t it have been over by now?
“07”
The voice is as clear as day amongst the static. Jamie’s head snaps up to the TV at the announcement, then to the ticket in hand – then a final time upward. The final number had just been read; the shine in their eyes a clear telling of events to come.
“I…I won..”
“Wait, seriously?” Jamie slides the ticket over for you to see; the first string of numbers matching perfectly with those on screen. The expression on their face is difficult to describe with one word. Disbelief, jubilation, and…… something you can’t quite put your finger on.
“Congratulations.” Is all you can muster.
“I can’t believe I won..” They stand up; overcome with emotion and wanting to express it with any in proximity – you being the only person available. They sling their arms around you like you’re long time friends; body shaking from joy. Understanding the sentiment, you return the hug; eyes wondering over to the clock on the wall. Time had slipped away from you; hands pointed nearly two hours from when you first arrived.
“I’m really happy for you, but I need to get going soon.” You mutter sheepishly; lightly tugging on their arm. Their body stills completely For a second, you wonder their heart had stopped before they finally slither their arms from around you.
“Right. Sorry. Just a bit overwhelmed. Here.” They reach into their pocket, placing a coin in your open palm.
“A quarter? What’s this for?”
They point over to a wall of capsule machines. “You really helped me out today. In more ways than one in a weird way.”
The confusion on your face only worsens. They move their finger over to the number stand. Scratched and worn to all hell, you could still make out the distinct curve of a number seven on the board.
“You picked those numbers out yourself, though.”
“Still, I’d like you to have something to remember me by. It’s going to be kinda hard to forget you.”
The faintest glow of red dusts their cheeks. Not wanting to push it, you walk over to the machines; eyes on your back the whole while. It takes a hard turn to get your reward, gears stuck from lack of use. Out pops a keychain in a grey capsule. It appears to be just a ball on the chain, gold star in its center.
-
Back in your car and on the right road, you start to relax a bit. The stress from earlier seemed silly in hindsight. You start playing around with the radio; limited, but decent options passing along. After picking your music of choice, you lean back in your seat – getting to know it and the landscape rolling by. You hum along, tapping your finger against the wheel to the beat.
“Ladiiies and Gentlemen!”
The abrupt and rather loud change cause you to swerve; volume a few notches too high for your ears. On reflex, you turn it down before you can process what happened. You then push buttons at random, trying ad nauseam to change the station; but nothing happens. The new voice, masculine and boastful, continues on without bother.
“Boy and girls. Those lovely folks who are neither or both. Welcome back to your favorite show with your favorite host – Eyes on the prize! The only game where everyone goes home a winner.”
Thunderous applause and a generic soundtrack crowd the air that the speaker leaves to fill. A game show? That was certainly – different. Initially annoyed, you decide to listen – as if you had any sat in the first place.
“Unfortunately, our guest couldn’t make it today due to some…. unforeseen circumstances.”
A few boos and “aw's” echo from the crowd, the host chuckling at the display.
“Worry not, folks. For we have a solution. As much as we’d like to give you a chance, we think it’s only fair for the listeners to get a turn. The first person to call this number will be today’s lucky contestant.”
The host lists off the number to call, the crowd silent in anticipation. You wait along with them, festive music looping in the background, buzzing in your ears like flies – right behind them like a backseat driver. Once you got home, you needed to get thus radio checked out. Five minutes go by with nothing; not even a second reading of the number. Must not have been a popular station.
Your luck had already been running high with this trip, so what could be the harm of throwing the hook once more? Stopping on the side of the road, you pick up your phone and dial the number, line connecting before the first ring. You swear you could hear the grin on the other end, voice doubled as it sounds through the radio and your speaker.
“H-Hello?”
“Looks like we got our caller, folks, and from their voice it sounds like we have a real catch. Welcome to the show!”
The crowd's cheering keeps you from a response, their enthusiasm knowing no ends – except for when he speaks.
“Quiet down, everyone. I have to give our guest a warm greeting! Guest isn’t the right word for you, though. We couldn’t do today’s show without you! You’re more like a.. co-host.” He muses, seeming pleased with his choice of words.
“We’re so glad to have you here, so, would you do us the honors and introduce yourself?”
“My name is Y/n…” You pause, thinking of what to say. “I’m on vacation and I came across this station on accident, but I called in since no one else seemed to.”
“Wonderful. Just wonderful! If you’re lucky you’ll be walking away with even more than all the excitement that might bring. The rules are simple. All you have to do is answer five round of three questions, and make sure you don’t hang up. Real easy stuff, got?”
“Okay..”
“Perfect! First question, what do bees make?”
“..honey?”
There’s a chime – like someone dragging a mallet over xylophone, followed by canned cheering.
“That’s correct! We always ease into things in the beginning – but I can tell you’ll do great! Let’s continue.”
You place your phone in the seat beside you, pulling your car out of park and drifting back on the road. While road safety was important, you hadn’t seen another vehicle for the majority of your travel plus you were sure you could keep your focus on the road.
“Question two, Which organ has four chambers?”
“Um.. the heart.”
The sound queue plays again.
“Question three… Are you.. alone?”
There’s a subtle change in his tone with the last word, losing its exuberant manner for one, single precise moment. The background music drowns in the awaiting silence; all waiting for your answer though you can't see the starving look in their stares.
Answer quickly.
“Y-yes?”
The music returns with gusto, the crowd clapping in approval at your answer and to the end of the first round.
“Cor-rect! Bit of a trick question, but we need to make sure you aren't cheating. And with that we have our first round! Pat yourself on the back.”
You let go of a breath you hadn't realized you were holding onto. Out of nowhere, there's the sharp ringing of a phone piercing your ears.
“You know what that means, folks, it's time for our audience questionnaire break! What that means for you, Y/n, is that some lucky few will be asking you whatever comes to mind. We like to let our crowd get real personal with our guests. You're allowed to not answer, of course, but what you do will be considered extra points.
You nod subconsciously; realizing your mistake as you blurt out. “Give me all you got.”
“That’s what we like to hear~. Let’s pick our first asker, shall we?” There's an uproar of eager people, shouting over each other like a group of seagulls. A drum rolls out; the image of a stage light shining over the crowd coming to your mind. You image it landing on one individual, as all the noise stops except for an excited squeal.
“You there, down in front. Come on up!”
Footsteps screech along tile floors; feedback booming from the mic as you hear another voice. “Hello, I'm S from California and I've been a huge fan of the show for a while. I'm excited to be here, and to meet you. What do you do in your free time?”
You answer honestly. The process continues.
“What color are your eyes?”
“What makes you laugh?”
“Who knows you best?”
“Favorite color?”
You answer them all as truthful as possible. No point in lying.
“Do you consider yourself to be a lucky person.”
The question throws you off guard; delivered robotic and cold. In a way, the voice was almost recognizable. Thinking back to the question, you didn't really know. Sure, you won this trip, but there were other parts of your life that couldn't be dealt to someone who had lucky constantly on their side.
“I.... I don't know”
The xylophone plays again. You thought that was only for right answers.
“I see..”
“Wait what was-”
“Are you single?”
In the few seconds for the words to leave your mouth, the person had slipped away, replaced by another with a query that makes you forget the last instantly. You reluctantly answer; it being the last question in this particular segment.
Round two starts without a hitch – questions slightly harder, but still in the realms of basic trivia. It's over almost as soon as it began, another tremendous applause at your completion. The road goes smoothly as the questions. but you notice that the sun was still high in the sky; just faintly dipping into a mellow evening. It was by no means late, but by now there should had been a hint of nightfall on the horizon.
“Are you nervous in front of others ?”
“What's the first thing someone should know about you?”
“What’s your zodiac sign.”
Your throat feels dry; tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You should have got something to drink at the diner before you left.
“I think it’s time for a bit of change, don’t you folks? We’ll call this round, the sensory round. Y/n, what is the animal that makes this sound?”
You hear a bird’s chirp, and answer accordingly.
“Yet another right answer. How about this one?”
Two tap against glass, too close to be from a soundboard, clicking straight in your ear, as though it came from your back window. Your body tenses; glancing out towards the back seat through the side view mirror. Empty as could be.
“Is everything alright?”
You rub the anxiety from your eyes. “Yea I’m.. I’m fine. Could you repeat it?”
“Certainly, my dear.” The sound plays again, a full fist instead of the gentle fingers from what you hear the first time. It rings along a different surface; hollow and wooden.
“Someone knocking on a door?”
“Perfection. Final question of the round. What do you see on the billboard you are about to pass?”
Your heart falls into your stomach. As if on queue, you rush past a billboard; its message burnt in though you only see it for a split second. Bold black lettering on a yellow background; an eye hiding in the lens of a camera beside it – staring down all who passed.
“Smile. You’re on camera.”
“T..there’s a picture of a camera.”
That damn xylophone chimes yet again; the applause popping like fireworks in your ears.
“What a fantastic round! We’ll skip on the questions this time, you need the rest.”
Your hands tremble. Was this some kind of prank. You need to hang up the phone – you felt it; but you can’t. A sharp ping hits your stomach; hunger stronger than the worry. A sign comes up for a gas station a few miles ahead. Before you could figure out what the hell was going on, you needed to take care of.
-
The store is quiet, the only occupants being you and the cashier with lidded eyes pointed at a magazine at the counter. He watches you, surprised to see someone around his age all the way out here. Your phone hung dormant in your pocket. Something told you leaving it behind wasn’t a wise decision. Shrinking under the many surveillance cameras around the place; you grab your items of choice and head over to the desk. Your phone buzzes for the tenth time before you’re able to retrieve it; unlocking to find dozens of messages from your boss wondering where you are.
“What… but I thought.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yea, my boss just is asking where I am, but I thought he knew I was off for the week.”
His lip quirks. “Sounds rough..” He slides a card “First cup of coffee is on the house, and by the looks of it, you might need it...” He trails off at the end.
“Thank you, but I don’t need it. I shouldn’t be on the road for too much longer.” You try your best to smile, placing your items on the corner. The guy looks you up and down; a flash of recognition coursing his eyes as he looks at your pocket.
“If that’s what you want. “ He rings up your things and bags them up for you. As you grab the bags, you hear the scratches of a pen before your receipt is thrust your way; crumbled slightly as if to hide what was written. You take it, but his hand remains clutched; eyes narrowed at the paper. He straightens as you lightly tugging on it, smiling as he let's go.
“Have a pleasant day.”
-
You head outside, turning the paper over. You didn’t know what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t what you read.
“Drop your phone and run. Make it an accident.”
“We’re back, folks.” The voice makes you jump. No music in the backdrop. No audience. Only Host.
“Now, Y/n. We only have one question for round four. What’s on the paper.”
You don’t respond, making a break for the car. The light of the gas station fades into obscurity as you fumble with the door. His voice raises ever so slightly – like a parent scolding their child.
“Don’t ignore me. Or you’ll have to face a penalty.”
You climb inside, your phone tumbling from your pocket without intention. Making sure to turn off the radio, you peel out of the station. The second lane is no longer there, but you pay no heed – intending to return the way you came no matter what it took. Nightfall had finally taken hold, swallowing the road around you. The stars hang low like stage lights; forever unblinking – never deterring from the ones below their gaze. The radio jolts to life with a pitched cry.
“I really wouldn’t like to see you get hurt, Y/n. Even though you broke a rule, I’m willing to forgive you. Just answer the question.”
“I quit!”
“You can’t.”
Your foot slams down on the gas; trying to run from the voice as if it wasn’t in the seat next to you – whispering. Soothing in a melancholic way; preferable to the cries of outrage behind you. Your silence was worse than a refusal to answer; mocking those who waited for your turn – those who fell before you. You would never experience the same fate as them, and they all knew it; longing for the moment they could have a chance at joining you to their nameless chorus.
Luminescence finally breaks the endless darkness, persisting past a single beacon like the diner or the gas station. A town; your guard raised in defense, but unlimitedly known it’s where you end up where you liked it or no. What could you even do once you got there? Going to the police was completely out of the question. You just needed to get your head clear.
The entry to the town dawns, streets empty just like everything before it.
You hurry to the first desk, slapping whatever bills you could find on the surface with no explanation. The manager pushes a key over to you; you not even bothering to look up at them as you run off. The room is on the other side of the hotel, in its on little pocket of isolate. You shut the door; slinking down it to the floor below. You hold your head in your hands. This was all just some kind of fucked up prank. You’d be home before you knew it.
Taking deep breaths, you survey the area. The average twin bedded room you’d see in movies; the mattress your own slice of heaven. You'd go to sleep, leave the second morning broke, and never look back. If the buzzing would let you rest; swarming in your head. You should probably turn off the TV.
The tv. The one thing you didn’t notice on your first look around. Static dances across the screen, washing out to a clear image; and you finally see it. See him. The thing that’s been haunting you your whole journey. Slicked back hair. An ashed suit matching his single toned body. An eternal smile plastered on his face from ear to ear; hooked to the flesh like a skin tight mask. Featureless beyond, his blank face points directly at you and you can swear that that grin gets even wider.
“Y/n I have something to admit. I’ve gone pretty easy on you this entire time. You’re… not like anyone else we’ve ever had.. Special. My generosity can only go far. I can only protect you from so much.”
There’s a bang on the door, rattling it in its hinges; shaking every bone in your body.
“Please answer the question.”
A bang, followed by studio laughter.
“Answer me.”
Bang.
“My shining star.”
“H…he told me to run away.”
Everything goes hush. Everything except for the tell-tale sign you won yet another around. The laud is overpowering; whistles of cheer and chants of adoration blocking all other senses out.
“There we have it! Let’s get this show over with and bring our star home.”
The television shuts off, accompanied by the slick of someone peeling tape from a wall. Your surroundings quiver, foundation falling around due to lack of unseen support. They crash against titled floors; no longer there to shield you from piercing lights above. You cover your eyes with your hands as you get used to them, narrowing your vision at whatever lies before you. You sit on the floor of a large stage; reflection bouncing off the smooth, black surface. You see rows upon rows of filled chairs; silhouettes squirming in their confines from hyperactivity. You aren’t keen on finding out what lied in the shadows. You direct your attention to the person towering over you to ignore it; tapping the mic in hand to get both your and everyone’s focus.
“And here they are! What a beaut, wouldn’t you agree?”
The clapping is unnatural; prolonged by skin sticking against skin – hollow strikes thrown into the mix like hitting bone. Host helps you to your feet, his fingers cold around your wrist; stiff like in a stage of rigor mortis, but soft to the touch. Looking at him, it was easy to see his suit was just an itch or two off from properly fitting his long limbs; the two a match regardless of the shortage.
“Unfortunately, things aren’t over yet. We still have one last round for you to complete.”
“Why me?....”
“Well you did call us, Y/n.”
“You said I’m different from the others, but why?”
The question shuts him up. If he were able, you were sure he’d had a neutral expression on his face. In an instant, he bursts out laughing; audience joining along with him.
“Why. Why, I haven’t the faintest idea and that’s what makes you so amazing! Your kind appear to obsess over the smallest thing. The one that seemed most interesting, was luck. A ripe source of it for you was these silly little shows, and I couldn’t help but play along. It became one of mine as well. A good host always studies his guests well, and I studied you for alooong time. It was like you knew you were being watched. You started to make me become interested in these I wouldn’t have be in a thousand years. It’s.. fascinating.”
His body writhes beneath his words, muscles pulled right against his bones. The skeleton is unlike anything human just from what you see. Ever changing – a formless shape attempting to keep configuration. Jutting with each chuckle, his expressionless face contorts; reality blending to make room for the perverse allusion that is his true shelf. Digits curl and stretch the flesh even further; threatening to break the barrier keeping whatever inside. Your body tell you to run; somehow knowing if any of . A covetous existence wanting to swallow you whole. With a blink of an eye, he returns to “normal”.
“Sorry about that. Having you here does.. things to me. I was keen on letting you enjoy your vacation, possibly for the rest of your day’s; but the thought of you by my side sidetracked those plans. A treat like you will be a hit with our audience. I'd never let them anywhere near you though. Call it penalty for losing.”
You glance back at the crowd. In the massive sea, your able to make out the shadow of a nametag pinned to one’s shirt and a pair of headphones on another.
“So everyone out there … lost?”
“Ding ding ding. Smart as ever, Y/n. Unfortunately, there will always be repercussions in life, but I’d say this one isn’t so bad. They get a front row seat to the show and if they’re lucky… they get to play a part in it too.”
His voice fluctuates at the end of the sentence; hard to point out who he was impersonating.
“My eyes in the streets, but of course eyes do wonder sometimes; such as what happened earlier. It was rude to send you, but I’ll forgive him this time. Of course, you were never in any danger. You could say I was in your pocket the entire time. Our guests never wanted to harm you either. Just a little pressure to get you talking. Enough with the questions, least from your end. It’s fine for the final question.”
The concluding praise is unlike all before it; shrieks high to false heavens and soulful. Host places his hands on your shoulders, pushing you forward to their eminence delight. He cranes his body down to your height; grip firm as he breathes.
“Listen to those people. They love you. We all want you to stay. You’ll be awarded with whatever your mortal body desires, long as you remain under our gaze. We'll have plenty of guests, but the spotlight will always be on you. Our everlasting star. If you answer correctly you win. We all do.”
“For the grand prize of eternity, will you be my co-host?”