Creative Writing: The Giver

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Jonas rode down the hill. The wind whipped past his face as the sled want faster and faster. The last thing Jonas remembered - before blacking out - was the sled slowing to a stop.

Jonas woke up in a room. But it was a room unlike any other room he had ever seen. The room was very white. The room smelled strongly of medicine, giving it a clean feel. On the mono-colored walls there were lots of tools that Jonas had never seen. Some looked razor sharp while others looked rather dull.

As Jonas laid in the bed - which was much more decorated then what he was used to - his mind began to clear up. He hadn’t realized it at first, but he could tell that his mind was groggy when he had first woken up. Jonas started to move around in the bed when

“I wonder what it is used for. It must have to do my health, but how did I get here? Was there really a village at the bottom of the hill? I guess so, because the sled was there, and I am here in a room. Supposing there is a village, they must have found me and took me here, but… but I have no memory of coming here.” Jonas laughed at the thought of not being able to recall what happened. He stopped and felt that it shouldn’t be a laughing matter. There was something that … something that he was neglecting to remember. No, not neglecting, Jonas corrected himself: forgetting. “I’m forgetting, the memories! I can't remember the memories the Giver gave me!” More specifically, Jonas could recall what the memories were about, but he couldn’t remember what the memories were like; the feelings, the color, the smell, the taste, the sight, or the touch. Jonas was relieved to be able to remember his life back at the community. He could remember the people who he had once called family. He remembered Asher and Fiona. He remembered his instructors, the chief elder, the Giver, and the twisted ways of the community. But above all these memories, the fear of wondering if he was going survive was much more vivid than the memories he had from the community. He could remember going down the hill on the sled, clutching Gabriel, the bitter cold snow stinging his legs. He remembered fighting for his life, climbing up the

They all looked somewhat similar, another thing Jonas noticed. The people in this village had different skin tones, some were lighter than others. Some people he had seen had black hair, others had brown, some with a beautiful golden color. Jonas could remember that in his first week of training, the Giver told him that there were once different skin tones, before Sameness happened. Jonas knew that the group of people were all part of the same family. And it was a family that was blood related to each other, unlike his old dwelling family. When the family reached Jonas, they set Gabe on his lap. “Gabe! I am so glad you are okay!” Jonas exclaimed. “You look so much better!” “Gabe. So that’s his name. We’ve been calling him Hippo because he always seemed to smile when he saw a picture of one. It didn’t seem right to rename him,” one of the family members said. Jonas thought she must be the mom, because she looked like the oldest female in their group. “My name is Mary, and this is my husband, Noah. These are my kids, Annie and