Cellie
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belongs to Lois Lowry.
Her CabinWhen Jonas came to, he was greeted by warmth, the crackling sound of a merry fire, and people talking.
"Can you imagine? He came down the slope when we were singing Christmas carols Auntie! He was blue for the cold, and he was holding the little ones in his arms, and neither of them had much covering on, and…"
A sterner, calmer sounding voice interrupted, "Shhh, Aimee, you'll wake him." Jonas slowly opened his eyes, and found himself staring up at a tall ceiling.
"Well now he's awake Auntie!" The little voice said.
"Where am I?" said Jonas, trying in vain to sit up. He felt someone prop him up, and he was now facing a wide eyed seven. She examined him as closely as a coroner determining the cause of death. She looked up his nose, in his ears, and looked at the tips of his fingers, as if searching for something.
"Wow Auntie, he's from your community." She said.
"I thought as much." Said the adult voice. The owner of the voice stepped in front of him. It was a tall, raven-haired female. She was stern looking, but felt familiar somehow. "Well, I suppose you are rather lucky. You only sustained a mild case of hypothermia, and a tinge of frostbite on you ears, but it is treatable. You're lucky we did not have to amputate any of your toes." She clucked her tongue as she examined. When she finished, she said, "You are in my cabin, on the border of Aspen." Aspen? The name was unfamiliar to Jonas. He assumed it was the name of a community.
"Am I in Elsewhere?" asked Jonas.
"What we would call it anyway." She sighed. She sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Um, sorry if I am rude but, who are you?" asked Jonas awkwardly. She gave him a small smile.
"Perhaps I should be asking you the same question." She looked at him questionably. He took a deep breath and told the entire story, the Giver, the escape, Gabriel, everything. She frowned, her brow furrowed, and her eyes-which were light-light green-became troubled. "I see." She said, and turned away.
"Have I upset you?" Jonas asked, bewildered.
"No, it's just, I know of whom you speak." She said to the fireplace. "The Giver is my father. My name is Rosemary."
"Wha-what?" stuttered Jonas. This was Rosemary? But Rosemary asked to be released! Jonas thought. His mind reeled as he tried to grasp what she said. "But—how?" He said.
"When I went into that room, I realized that even though this was a pale version of life, I didn't want to die. So I told them I would rather inject myself, and instead of placing the needle in, I jabbed it into the man next to me, and I slid down the trash chute. That lead to the dumpster behind the facility. I gathered supplies and set off to find Elsewhere." She gestured around the cabin. "And now here I am."
"What about Aimee?" Jones wondered aloud.
"Similar community. Similar incident." Said Rosemary, waving it off." There are others here besides Aimee and me. People from the real world, people form other communities, about five in all. I'll introduce them to you after you rest for a while."
Jonas suddenly remembered. "What about Gabe?" he said in a rush.
"Just fine. A slight head cold, that's all." She said reassuringly. She removed a couple pillows so she was looking at where the wall joined the ceiling. Then she bustled out.
As he drifted off to sleep, he felt as though the Giver felt he had arrived, and simply let go. He felt like the community was working to become better, and he drifted off to sleep.
Epilogue of the Epilogue
The Giver did feel that Jonas had reached his destination and let go. The community received the memories. Father received the memory of a mother and her baby. Mother received a memory of someone who felt they had helped people receive their justice they deserved. Lily received a memory of an elephant and its child. Asher received the memory of a dusty game of kickball with friends. Fiona received the memory of a grandmother and her grandchild making cookies. Though there were some bad memories, the community learned from them to make a better tomorrow.