If you haven't read the Giver by Lois Lowry, then DO NOT read this ending! If you have, go ahead!
We're doing this as homework in Language Arts and I KNOW that I will get an A! We were supposed to start from 21, when Jonas is escaping. Please tell me what you think (if you've read the Giver) If you read Gathering Blue and Messenger (the sequels) then this will make a little more sense. This takes place way before Gathering Blue and Messenger!
The Giver by Lois Lowey
The Second Ending by Kirthi Rao
Jonas knew he had to disobey the plans he and The Giver had so painstakingly thought up of and organized, but his father had just told him Gabriel was to be released the next morning, and he had to disobey, for Gabriel.
“Giver” he called mentally, “I’m fleeing with Gabriel, he’s to be released tomorrow morning! I’m going now, meet me by the river!”
Jonas then scooped the sleeping Gabe in his arms and gave him a pleasant memory, one of a windy wheat field with skies as blue as The Giver’s eyes. Once he lost the last remaining bits of the memory, Jonas continued to sneak through his sleepy Community.
The Giver was, as Jonas had not expected, already waiting for him. As soon as Jonas arrived, The Giver transmitted many, fast-paced memories of sticky, hot Sun-filled days, of cold, icy blizzards, of strong brave warriors running through ancient battlefields. Jonas, who had been holding Gabriel, didn’t realize that fragments of The Giver’s memories had seeped through him and into Gabe. He looked up, shocked, “Giver! The memories—they’re going to Gabe!” The Giver smiled and nodded, “Good” he said simply. They waited for nothing in particular, just for a moment.
And now, Jonas thought, it’s time to say goodbye. Sadness overwhelmed him, the thought of leaving is only friend was terrible, and Jonas couldn’t say anything. Wetness blurred his vision, he opened his mouth to attempt to speak, but the Giver filled in, “I love you too, Jonas. Be well and happy”. They shared a hug, him and Jonas and Gabe, wrapped together in brief comfort. The unsaid ‘goodbye’ hung heavy in the air, and unable to bear it anymore, Jonas abruptly turned and mounted Gabriel in the backseat of his bike, along with his backpack, and pedaled away. He didn’t look back, he knew he couldn’t. The look of The Giver’s face would probably hurt Jonas like thousands of sharp, shiny objects he knew to be called knives. This was a pain like any other, the pain of love.
For days Jonas rode by night and hid and rested by day. He and Gabriel were tense, and for a child of his age, Gabe was incredibly aware and mature. Planes roared in the sky, searching and persistent. Jonas and Gabe had to hide frequently; so much that paranoia seemed to grab hold of them. However, the farther the traveled, the less planes came searching. Jonas was happy, despite their departure, but also bittersweet. He was saddened deeply by saying ‘goodbye’ to The Giver, but he was happy to say ‘hello’ to a life with Gabriel.
The atmosphere was getting warmer. Small specks of sickly yellow blanketed him and Gabe every day and night. Their eyes and nose itched and were irritated. Poor Gabe leaked tears and made odd noises with his nose, “Ah, chew!” Jonas guessed it must be the yellow dust, and a short memory returned to him, a word was clear, pollen.
They approached a vast thicket of trees. Jonas knew, from the Giver’s memories, that this grouping of trees was called a forest. And he also knew that he had to travel through it.
Jonas abandoned his tattered, worn bicycle at the edge of the forest and carried Gabe in one arm, with his backpack strapped on the other. He stepped bravely into the dim, covered landscape and braced himself.
To his surprise, the forest was not as scary as his memories told him. The growling of monsters was not to be heard and all was (mostly) quiet.
He hiked and gaped openly at the forest’s beauty. The trees were tall and graceful and mysterious. They seemed dead from the outside, but Jonas saw vibrant life swirling beneath its thick skin. The gnarly trees, he guessed, were also ancient and wise. The chirp of the birds flowed together harmoniously, and only one word seemed to fit it, music. Gabe laughed, cheerfully pointing at them. And Jonas felt happy, for the first time in a long time.
They journeyed on for so many days, that Jonas lost count. His limbs and muscles ached, and Gabe had become so impatient and tired, that he no longer said anything, only whimpered softly in exhaustion. When Jonas felt like he would drop dead with fatigue, he saw a community ahead. It was far away, but not so far.
He mustered all this energy inside him and yelled, “Help! Help us!” Then darkness blackened Jonas’s vision, and his eyes strained to see. “Help” he whispered softly, clutching a still Gabe, “Help”.
Jonas was suddenly aware of the blackness, and suddenly he was falling. Tipping over into a deep, bottomless black hole, deeper and deeper he went until, “Whoa!” Jonas jolted awake, perspiring, his heart was rapidly beating. He looked around. He was in a house, simple and made of wood. And he was alone, all alone.
“Gabe!” he called, frightened, “Gabriel!” The sense of loss ate away at Jonas. Questions raced through his mind, Where was Gabe? Where was he? What was this place? What happened to him? Then a girl, who looked as old as Fiona, walked in, a bowl of in her pale hands, “Welcome back, Stranger” she greeted, smiling. She had brown hair, and warm green eyes, and very pale skin. Jonas felt proud to have described her with his colors, and he felt what might have been his Stirrings.
“Where am I? Where is Gabriel?” he questioned politely, trying to sound as sane as possible. The girl frowned, “Do you mean the little boy? He is sleeping. And” she paused, “You still haven’t told me your name”
“My name is Jonas” said Jonas, irritated, “And I would like to see Gabriel”. The girl seemed to ponder his request thoughtfully, and Jonas tried not to appear impatient. She smiled again, “You can see him, but only if you eat your food” she said, placing a bowl of porridge on his lap. Jonas was irked, but obeyed and devoured his porridge to the very last drop, and as he did, the girl watched him quietly. “You know” said Jonas between bites, “You haven’t told me your name” Jonas was fond of her smile, “My name is Eva” she replied. Eva. Jonas liked that name very much. He asked, “Where am I?” and Eva said, “In The Village”.
“The Village” Eva continued leading Jonas through The Village, “Is a home for visitors, for the injured and the ill, and it is open to anyone. Newcomers are always welcome here” The idea was hard to believe, there was so much freedom in here, unlike his Community. “And here is where Gabriel is”. Gabe was crawling on a woven blanket surrounded by a group of children, and he was giggling. Relief flooded through Jonas.
“Gabe” he cried, rushing towards Gabe and pressing him ag
ainst his chest, “I was so worried!” Jonas transmitted a memory of a wife waiting for her husband who was in war to Gabriel. The giggling child quieted, and squeezed Jonas, as if providing him with comfort. “I love you, Gabe” Jonas said softly, “Never forget that” Jonas remembered when the possibility of love was impossible, he remembered saying to Gabriel, “There could be love”. Now there was.
In his new life in The Village, Jonas and Gabe were given a home, a small shelter to live in, and a new beginning; A new life in which they could make their own memories, where they could be free, and where anything was possible.
Jonas chased after 9-year-old Gabriel, “Gabe! You naughty tyke, get back here!” Gabe laughed, his golden curls bouncing, his light green eyes dancing with mis
chief, “Catch me if you can, Father!” Jonas knew that Gabe knew that Jonas wasn’t his father, but Gabe has said, “I don’t care. You’re like a father to me, you’re my best friend”. Eventually, Jonas tackled Gabe to the soft pillows of grass, “I’ll tell you the Story tonight” Jonas promised. The Story was his story, the story of how Jonas had arrived here almost 6 years ago, when he had been a almost a Fourteen, and the story of his life in the Community. Gabe already knew the story by heart, his favorite part was the same as Jonas’s, the part about The Giver.
They huddled around the warm, crackling fire-place, tired and sleepy. Jonas’s wife, Eva, presented them with mugs of warm goat’s milk and cookies, and Jonas began.
“It all started with an airplane...”