The Puzzle

by Jesse Eric Whitehead

I open the bag and pour the three thousand jigsaw pieces onto the dining room table. This is going to be a challenge, trying to assemble the puzzle without the reference photo on the box cover. I bought the puzzle from a wizened old lady at my local flea market this morning for one dollar, as is, without the box. Thus, no picture.

Not even sure what it is. She promised I’d enjoy it and be pleasantly surprised. I like surprises. For one dollar, what’s not to like?

I line up the edge pieces to frame it, then one by one put the pieces into place.  I’m pretty fast at jigsaw puzzles, but even at my regular speed, I estimate it will take two or three days for this one. 

Somehow though, this is coming together much faster than I expected.  Every piece I pick up seems to magically be the right one to put into place next. Normally, I find two or three pieces a minute. For this puzzle, I am finding the right piece every two or three seconds. That’s blindingly fast. I do some quick mental math and estimate it will take two or three hours at this rate to complete it. I have never done a puzzle this fast before, and I have done a lot of them.

I am totally engrossed, and the time flies. Before I know it I am about three-quarters done, heading for the home stretch. The picture taking shape looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t make it out completely yet. 

An hour later, I put the final few pieces into place. I’m so intent on finishing that I haven’t looked at the nearly completed picture yet. When I put the last piece in, I stand back from the table a couple of feet to see it.  My pulse quickens.  

The completed puzzle shows my dining room table, with a completed jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle within the puzzle shows the same picture, repeating on and on, like an infinity mirror. What shocks me most though, is the central figure. It is me, peering at the puzzle a couple of feet away, exactly as I stand right now. A mirror image.  My head feels light. “What on eart?”

Everything goes black. I must have fainted. I come to some seconds—or minutes—later, pull myself up from the floor and look at the jigsaw puzzle again. As before, it shows the dining table with a jigsaw puzzle and me standing close by. But this time with a bloody nose.  I swipe at my nose with my hand; it comes back red.  I must have hit my nose when I fainted. 

But how did the puzzle know I had a nosebleed before I was back on my feet? Is it charmed? Cursed? Possessed? Can this puzzle predict the future? 

I intend to find out. I need to go back to the flea market and find that old woman. Find out the magic of the puzzle. Find out if she has anything else for sale that will give me a “pleasant surprise.”  Who knows what adventures await!