The Girl Who Destroyed The World

Pieces Of A Puzzle

A seven  year old girl, her dirty-blonde hair flew up and down as she jumped on her parents bed, awaking them from their deep slumber.

“Mommy, Daddy! Wake up it’s Christmas! I want to open the presents! Wake up, wake up,” she yelled as she bounced on their bed, shaking them wildly.

“Sweety, sweety stop… give us until eight at least,” her father begged. “Please, go back to sleep…”

Upset, she left the room in her green and red pajamas and sat on her knees on the living room floor, staring at the vibrant lights illuminating the room on the tree sitting before her and the bright colored wrapping paper covered presents. She picked one up and searched it curiously. “Jonathan, From Santa”, “Tayler, From Santa”, “Tayler, From Santa”, “Jonathan, From Mom and Dad”... After a few seconds of searching she found that hers were more into the center of the gifts and brought it upon herself to begin separating her presents from her two younger siblings, diminishing half of the fun, finding your own name of a gift.

About five minutes later, her parents walked drearily out of their room and into the kitchen to get some coffee, still half asleep. The young girl stood up quickly and tugged upon her mother and fathers arms, pulling them into the living room. Her mother, her long red hair messy and dark circles under her bluish-green eyes, held her two-year-old sister in one hand and a coffee in the other. Her father, bed head enveloping his usually brushed hair, held a Canon in one hand and a coffee in the other, his slightly darker than her mothers.

 

“Hun, please, fix the presents. You’re not supposed to separate them, mix them up again,” her mother scolded.

 

Hesitantly, she pushed them all together again and went to wake her brother. She pushed him back and forth ruthlessly. “Jonathan! Wake up! Come open presents with me,” the child exclaimed.

Her brother quickly jumped out of bed and laughed happily as they ran to the living room. It’s funny how the effect of a gift can awaken a young child so quickly, and a parent or adult with no effect. Time passes fast, as they were children once, too, but their child-like reactions are now just more faded memories.

 

The family sat together, her father pointed out three square boxes and turned on the camera. The young, enthusiastic child grabbed them and handed one to her brother, one to her mother for her younger sister, and stared at one sitting in front of her.

 

“Okay, open them,” her father exclaimed happily, watching and catching them all on camera.

 

The two kids ripped off the wrapping paper, and their mother helped the little two-year-old open hers. Inside was a box with a picture of the globe on it. “200 pieces,” it read.  

 

“200 pieces? What is this? Why is the world in 200 pieces,” she asked curiously.

 

Her parents giggled. It upsetted the child not knowing what they were laughing about. Was it her cluelessness? Or was it a not-so-funny joke?

 

She grew impatient very quickly, her tolerance for this was unbearably short. She wasn’t a big fan of reading, but out of anger rising at an immense speed and her toddler-like curiosity, she searched the box for clues. “P-U-Z-Z-L-E…. Pu...Puzzle? Is it a puzzle of the world,” she questioned.