The Giver Chapter 14

Jonas asked him after he had received a torturous memory in which he had been neglected and unfed; the hunger had caused excruciating spasms in his empty, distended stomach.

Jonas asked him after he had received a torturous memory in which he had been neglected and unfed; the hunger had caused excruciating spasms in his empty, distended stomach.

There was always a daub of anesthetic ointment, or a pill; or in severe instances, an injection that brought complete and instantaneous deliverance.

The newchild was turning under his cover, flailing his arms, and beginning to whimper.

Then, suddenly, he was in the Annex room again, writhing on the bed.

It was not enough to assuage the pain that Jonas was beginning, now, to know.

It was still there, but the sky was less blue, the gentle motion of the boat slower, the water of the lake more murky and clouded.

Each time, in his kindness, The Giver ended the afternoon with a color-filled memory of pleasure: a brisk sail on a blue-green lake; a meadow dotted with yellow wildflowers; an orange sunset behind mountains.

His face scraped along jagged edges of ice and when he came, at last, to a stop, he lay shocked and still, feeling nothing at first but fear.

For a moment he felt a tiny, fluttering hope that he knew was quite foolish.

He kept it for a while, soothing his own nervousness at what had occurred, then let it go and returned to his bed.

"The idea was that certain family units could accommodate an additional child."

Now it was ominous.

It was colder, also, Jonas perceived.