The Giver - 35 Years Later
"…Jonas had died of hypothermia and frostbites, while Gabriel was sheltered from the cold by Jonas' body. Little Gabe survived, and was found by a hunter that had passed by. He was adopted by loving parents and lived in a community that was poles apart from the one he was born in. Gabriel grew up, became a successful person in life and found a woman whom he is very much in love with. They lived happily ever after with their children. The end."
I sat back as I finished the story, and surveyed my family. They had sat there, listened spell-bounded to our traditional Christmas story. The fire glowed in the background, and I welcomed the warmth. The Christmas tree was glittering with decorations, some homemade by the children. Stockings hung above the fireplace, waiting to be filled, while toys and presents sat waiting underneath the tree.
There was my wife, beautiful Irene. Her face is heart-shaped, framed by curly strands of red hair that had escaped their bond. Her green eyes, filled with love and warmth, are enclosed by thick, curly lashes. She melded her body next to mine, our hands intertwined. A smile played on her lips.
On her knee sat Sarai, while I cuddled George, our twins of 7. Both of the twins had inherited my eyes, whereas their hair and lips was Irene's. The other things the twins inherited from me were my mischievousness, a twinkle that shone through their eyes. Both loved pranks, which are easy to plan with their mind linked to each other.
On the opposite sofa sat the grandparents. Grey already touched their hairs, but science had improved lifespan and health. They all love us very much, even though Irene's parents didn't approve of our relationship at first. All of them love to spoil the kids rotten, and more often than not, excellent advices are heard from their mouth.
I owed all of this to Jonas, the boy hero. He had sacrificed his life for mine and I had survived. His memories had transferred to me prior to his death, giving me more knowledge of the world then most people had. While I never had the chance to view the world in an innocent way, I am grateful for his memories. When I could, I traced Jonas' memories back to the old community, to find it thriving well in the modern world. I am glad that his sacrifice is not in vain. On this day, the day he died, I thought to myself, 'Rest in peace Jonas.'