The Puzzle John loved solving puzzles. It was a hobby that he had enjoyed for the past seventy years. It had always been just a hobby for John, that was, until his wife died. After that he found that keeping his mind busy did so much to clear his head and to forget the sadness. He missed her so much, after 62 years of marriage the lose was unbearable. He knew that his eighty six year old body would not be on this earth for too much longer, and then they would be together again. He knew he would, once again, look into her beautiful eyes, what he did not know however was that he would be dead before the morning came. He had just completed a ten thousand piece picture of the Sistine Chapel. This had been a present from his grand-daughter and he had a special place for it so she could see that grandpa had loved her gift. He went out to the garage and got the piece of plywood that he had cut earlier to the exact shape of the puzzle. He grabbed the bottle of glue and sat down at the table. Using the glue, he smeared the wood and then transfered the puzzle to the board. After it was completed he took it out to the garage to dry. By tomorrow it would be ready to add the wire on the back and hang it on the wall in the foyer so it could be seen when anyone entered the house. John looked at the clock in the dinning room, it said 1 O'Clock, just the right time to settle down to his next project. He went into the kitchen, made himself a glass of milk, a peanut butter sandwich, and started towards his bedroom closet where he kept his puzzles that were yet to be put together. He already knew which one he would start, a great little antique that he bought on-line, a 1940's work of The Mailman by Norman Mailer. Before he made it to his bedroom, there was a knock at the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin. It was not a soft, kind knock that one would expect at 1 O'Clock in the morning. It was five or six very loud hits in fast succession. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Some people could just be so damn rude. "Hold your horses!" John shouted as he crossed the room to the front door hoping that his anger came through loud and clear. Opening the door he started in making himself perfectly clear that he did not appreciate being bothered in the middle of the night. "Just what in the," He was cut short when the door came open and no one was there to bear the brunt of his displeasure at the interruption. The rain was coming down in torrents, and no cars were in sight. Cursing under his breath he started to close the door when he noticed something on the ground in front of the door. On the welcome mat, he saw a package, a brown box covered in plastic to protect it from the ominous storm that had been raging all day. John reached down and grabbed the package and rushed back into his house. Who ever left it took great care in making sure it would not get ruined by the rain. "What the heck is this?" He thought scratching his head. He carefully sat the box on the counter. He removed the plastic and placed it back on the counter. Even though he was confused, a ball of anticipation welled up in his stomach. Questions raced through his mind. There was no card, no letter, not one mark to give clue as to who had wrapped and left the little surprise. John Reached into the drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the string that wrapped around the package, keeping the flap from coming opened. He held the top and pulled it slowly opened, it was filled with puzzle pieces. Moreover, from what he could see he guessed there was about a thousand pieces. Even though there were not that many pieces, the pieces were small. A thin smile crossed his lips. This would be a huge challenge he thought no instructions, no pictures, nothing. He pulled open the box and dumped the pieces onto the table. Apparently the one he had planned to start tonight would now be put on hold, this "gift" held his fascination now. John turned all the lights off in the house with the exception of the small light over the table. As was his routine, he went to his stereo and thumbed through the compact disks that he had collected over the years. He chose a disk that contained an old radio program from the 1940's called Suspense. Besides puzzles old time radio was a great love also. The old radio program played in the background as John made his way back to the table. He began to organize the pieces, making two piles. In one pile all the pieces that were part of the border went to and the other he put everything else that remained. As he sorted the pieces he realized how difficult this was going to actually be. The puzzle was dark, and the border was darker. Most puzzles had color progression that made it easier to decipher what pieces fit in a certain area. This one was somehow different. The pictures on the small pieces appeared to just be dark colors on dark colors. The only way one could tell that there was actually a picture there was by the shapes and lines that covered every piece. He did not let that bother him and started to put the pieces of the border together. Within 30 minutes he had the border together, now to the challenging part. Taking his eyes off of the border John began to sort the remaining puzzle pieces in the pile to his right. As was his ritual, he looked at the bottom of the border, then to the pieces. He had gained a second sense - no more than that - after seventy years of puzzles he had gained a talent for memorizing the cuts and shapes of the missing pieces and finding the pieces needed for a section. This was his routine, he started at the bottom and worked his way up. He looked at the clock that hung on the wall of the dinning room, it now said 2:30 am. Slowly, his eyes and hands went back and forth between the two piles in front of him. It began to take shape. Outside, the rain pounded the roof, the wind slammed the shutters angrily, thunder shook the ground. With every piece that he fitted into place he felt a sense of impending.... what? What exactly did he feel? He was not sure, but what started as his nightly routine changed into a race to get this completed. He had to get it completed. He did not know why, he did not understand these feeling that were welling up in his gut. His fingers started moving faster. Sweat started falling from his forehead. He wanted to quit, to get away from this, this thing but he knew he could not. As irrational as it seemed a feeling of necessity came over him. One part of his mind told him that he was acting childish, that he should put this in the trash and not stop there but to get it out of the house into the trash bin outside. At the same instant, he also knew that he could not. Just thinking about not completing the puzzle made his head pulse with pain. What was going on? then a question entered his mind. A question that should have come to him hours ago when he found the box on the porch. Who (or what) left the puzzle. He lived well out of town, yet there was no car in the drive-way, no car on the street. Even though all these unanswered questions littered his mind, his fingers did not stop going from pieces to puzzle putting them in the right places. He had to complete it, faster he snapped the shapes together, faster his eyes went over the pieces to find the right cut, faster, faster, faster this had to be done. Don't stop! Don't stop! It was no longer his inner voice that was telling him this, he really had no idea whose voice it was. He tried to slow down, tried to pace himself, but he could not. He felt that if he did not finish it something, he did not know what would happen, he just knew not to tempt the feelings that he had. Consequently, he continued working feverishly putting the picture together. He looked up at the clock, it was now 4:26 A.M. He started to feel sluggish, tired, his eyes wanted to close. His brain wanted to shut down and drift to sleep, his head began to throb with pain. He had been so busy working on the puzzle, focusing on the little pieces that he really had not looked at the picture. When he did he was more confused than ever, there really was nothing to be seen, it was all dark. Even with his noticing this, he still could not pull himself away from the gift that he had been given. His eyes focused on the shapes and angles of the pieces, snapping them into place when a match was found. When he did look down he realized that he was down to just a few pieces left. He put the final two pieces into position, stepped back to finally see what he had worked so feverishly on for the past few hours. What he had seen before was the case now. It was just a dark picture with a vague image that could not really be made out. But it was finished at least so he could put this strange thing behind him. The clock now said 5:42 A.M. He started to intently look at the picture. He was trying to trace the lines hoping to make a connection and find out exactly was in the image. Without warning his eyes lost focus, his head started to swim, pain shot down his left arm. The center of his chest burned with pain. He clutched his chest, and he fought hard for breath, but could get none. With the last of his energy he tried to turn away from the table and grab the phone to call for help. His first step toward the phone would be his last he would ever take on this earth. His body fell on the floor with a loud THUMP! John did not feel the fall as he was dead before his body hit the floor. The picture on the table could not be made out. It looked like nothing more than dark on dark. Then it started to shimmer, losing focus, blurry, color started to creep its way through the borders. What once was a picture that could not be deciphered started to re-make itself. Lines of color began to move across the surface as if an invisible hand was drawing. A bright light started at the center and began to cut its way through the rest of the painting. A loud sound, something like a thunderclap ripped through the air, the whole area inside the borders was so bright that if anyone had been looking they would be forced to look away to avoid hurting their eyes. Than everything stopped. The puzzle lifted itself off of the table, floated in midair as if being held be unseen strings. It then started to spin, bright light engulf the puzzle, brighter and brighter, then without warning it stopped, fell on the table and the illumination started to fade. No longer was the picture a nonexistent dark nothing, it was a work of art. The picture was that of John standing beside the table leaning over working on the puzzle. A hooded figure in black stood behind him. The figures hand was reaching into John's chest, in the front one could see the bony hand of Death gripping John's heart that came out of the front of his chest. Death's bony white hand dripped blood, the clock on the wall read 5:42 A.M.
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