Each piece came with no note, no clue—just a growing sense that someone, somewhere, knew her far too well.
Prompt:
She stared at the nearly complete puzzle, her hands trembling as she fitted the final piece. It was her own face—eyes wide, mouth open—and behind her, a shadowy figure standing at her window.
It began on her 21st birthday. A birthday card with a single puzzle piece slipped beneath her door. She laughed it off, thinking it was a quirky prank. But a week later, another piece arrived. Then another. No return address. No handwriting she recognized. She began saving each one, arranging them on her kitchen table late at night. The image took shape slowly—a park bench, a house, a figure in the distance. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, not until she finished it. When the picture was nearly complete, she noticed something terrifying: the puzzle depicted her living room. And the final piece, still in her hand, revealed what waited just behind her.
Question to Encourage Comments:
If you received mysterious puzzle pieces revealing something personal about your life, would you finish assembling it—or destroy it before knowing the truth?