THE GIVER'S LAST ENTRY
He wasn't ready. He should have come to me. He should have gotten more of the memories. It has already hit them, the community. Panic is rising. They will come to me soon for help.
Perhaps though, yes, I should start at the beginning. Jonas, who was to be twelve, was the one. On January first, every child of the community goes up one year. Like the Ones become Twos and so on. Well, when they reach twelve, they are given their assignment, or job. First they must go into training. We, the Council, watch them closely. We watch their every move and decide what job in the community they would be best at. But Jonas was a hard one to choose. He would always skip around during his volunteer hours. Sometimes he would go with his friend, Asher, to the Recreation Center. Sometimes he would go with his gentle female friend, Fiona, to the House of the Old, too. Sometimes he would go somewhere alone. So, as always when they're to stupid to figure something out alone, the Council came to me. I told them that Jonas was to take my job. I had watched him; I knew him. I knew he was different somehow.
So he was selected to be the new Receiver. The first day of training he came in and looked as I probably had looked. Ready, or at least thinking I was. We talked. As weeks turned into months and so on, he learned from me. But I too, learned from him. He let me see some things I had never even considered before.
You see the Receiver receives memories from me, now the Giver. Instead of the whole community having to remember times of torment, pain, sadness, love, joy, and even weather. Instead, the burden was put on the Receiver. He, the receiver, would have all the memories. I gave Jonas a myriad of the memories. Enough so that if he left the community (the memories would stay behind and spread throughout the community) a panic attack would kindle.
Well, one day, he came in and I knew he hadn't taken the pill. The pill is something everyone in the community must take to keep from having emotions like sadness or love. The word "love" means nothing to these people. Nothing. When Jonas walked in, I saw within his eyes the emotions he had felt in the memories. He had wanted those emotions and had got them. From that day on, I don't think he ever took the pill again.
Also, now he could see in color. You see, when the memories were given to the first receiver many, many years back, so were colors. People here see everything in shades of black and white. That is, except Jonas.
Anyway, Jonas and I thought out a plan. He was going to come to me, get a few more memories and leave the community forever. I would stay and help keep the panic down. These people don't known about emotions or pain or tragedy. I would comfort them and explain everything. Jonas didn't come for the memories, though. He just left and I don't know why. I knew he was gone because a dead, pulsing silence came over the whole of the community. Then, so suddenly it surprised me, shrieks of terror were heard everywhere and, for the first time, tears rolled down the peoples' faces. I can hear them coming, to this room, so silent for so long. I hear them banging, banging on my heavy wooden door. They are screaming, "Let us in! Please! Help us!" I must go. Perhaps Jonas and I have done the worst thing possible, by rising panic and setting the truth upon the community. Or perhaps we have done the best.
He wasn't ready. He should have come to me. He should have gotten more of the memories. It has already hit them, the community. Panic is rising. They will come to me soon for help.
Perhaps though, yes, I should start at the beginning. Jonas, who was to be twelve, was the one. On January first, every child of the community goes up one year. Like the Ones become Twos and so on. Well, when they reach twelve, they are given their assignment, or job. First they must go into training. We, the Council, watch them closely. We watch their every move and decide what job in the community they would be best at. But Jonas was a hard one to choose. He would always skip around during his volunteer hours. Sometimes he would go with his friend, Asher, to the Recreation Center. Sometimes he would go with his gentle female friend, Fiona, to the House of the Old, too. Sometimes he would go somewhere alone. So, as always when they're to stupid to figure something out alone, the Council came to me. I told them that Jonas was to take my job. I had watched him; I knew him. I knew he was different somehow.
So he was selected to be the new Receiver. The first day of training he came in and looked as I probably had looked. Ready, or at least thinking I was. We talked. As weeks turned into months and so on, he learned from me. But I too, learned from him. He let me see some things I had never even considered before.
You see the Receiver receives memories from me, now the Giver. Instead of the whole community having to remember times of torment, pain, sadness, love, joy, and even weather. Instead, the burden was put on the Receiver. He, the receiver, would have all the memories. I gave Jonas a myriad of the memories. Enough so that if he left the community (the memories would stay behind and spread throughout the community) a panic attack would kindle.
Well, one day, he came in and I knew he hadn't taken the pill. The pill is something everyone in the community must take to keep from having emotions like sadness or love. The word "love" means nothing to these people. Nothing. When Jonas walked in, I saw within his eyes the emotions he had felt in the memories. He had wanted those emotions and had got them. From that day on, I don't think he ever took the pill again.
Also, now he could see in color. You see, when the memories were given to the first receiver many, many years back, so were colors. People here see everything in shades of black and white. That is, except Jonas.
Anyway, Jonas and I thought out a plan. He was going to come to me, get a few more memories and leave the community forever. I would stay and help keep the panic down. These people don't known about emotions or pain or tragedy. I would comfort them and explain everything. Jonas didn't come for the memories, though. He just left and I don't know why. I knew he was gone because a dead, pulsing silence came over the whole of the community. Then, so suddenly it surprised me, shrieks of terror were heard everywhere and, for the first time, tears rolled down the peoples' faces. I can hear them coming, to this room, so silent for so long. I hear them banging, banging on my heavy wooden door. They are screaming, "Let us in! Please! Help us!" I must go. Perhaps Jonas and I have done the worst thing possible, by rising panic and setting the truth upon the community. Or perhaps we have done the best.