The Giver Book Full Book Novels & Stories

Let me know how much you like/love this book, be encouraging. Ignore any grammatical errors or nicely point them out. F* group: Author Gift Odulesi (Gift's readers) I*******m: @giftodulesi

They drag the bulky, strange-looking books off her shelf, and I watch the youngest guard in the unit wipe his hand on his pants after touching them, hoping nobody notices. And nothing suspicious shows up. That’s what starts turning the screw in me. Because every single object in this room raises its hand and explains itself. The letters are letters. The jewellery is jewellery. The books are strange, and strange is not a crime, and everyone under this roof has known for forty years exactly what those books are and whose they were. Ida’s. The peculiar old woman who came back off her long roads with peculiar old cargo and gave the best of it to the granddaughter who worshipped her.

His movements were slower. "Shall I start now?" Gia inquired as soon as she noticed Raven sitting comfortably. He nodded. "You marked chapter three," Gia noted. "Start from the beginning. That way, you can enjoy the story too, rather than just reading it mechanically like that report." Raven's sly nature does not align with this unexpectedly kind gesture. "Alright... Let’s begin..." Gia started reading the book, quickly getting absorbed in the story—a satisfying revenge tale. But drowsiness and fatigue overtook Gia faster than usual. Raven’s bullying seemed to have drained her extra energy. Before they reached chapter six, Gia's voice started to fade.

She took it down from the shelf. She read the first page. Her mother had written: the gift is for giving. Not for keeping. The warmth you feel in the people around you is yours reading theirs, and this is how it was always meant to work, and if anyone has ever told you differently they were wrong. She held the book. She thought: you knew this would go further than you could reach. She thought: you planted it anyway. She put the book back on the shelf. She went home to Kael and told him she was ready.

"On the house." Emma frowned. "I can pay—" "It's a gift. Consider it a welcome to the neighborhood." Emma took the book. "Thank you." "Read it. Then come back and tell me what you think." Emma nodded. She walked out of the bookstore, the book pressed against her chest. She's being kind, Emma thought. Because I exist. Not because I'm useful. She wasn't used to that. --- At 5:00 PM, Emma sat on her couch and read.

He looked surprised when she gave it to him. She glanced at John.: who’d helped her. He gave her an encouraging nod. “I hope … I really hope you like this as much as I do my own gift. Just … go into it with an open mind please.” She told him. Quinn frowned. “Okayyyyy…..” he said. He opened the present and took out the large book. He opened the first page and stopped. He stopped moving .. and Em thought he might also stopped breathing. She sure as hell did.

Everyone praised her, and I felt proud to have such an outstanding sister. But over time, I started noticing strange things. My friends stopped hanging out with me, and the boys I practiced hunting with no longer wanted to team up. Instead, they all started hanging around Jane. Even my parents started saying I wasn't as thoughtful as Jane, that I wasn't as sensible as she was. They gave Jane the master bedroom in the new house, while I was left with the smaller room. But I didn't see anything wrong with it. By the time I realized Jane was behind all of it, she had already taken so much from me.

I nodded slowly, realizing what his answer truly meant: the Living Book wasn't here. Whether he didn’t trust me, or the danger was too great to carry it along, I didn’t know. But I stopped searching. Instead, I buried myself in the small cube Zevarion had gifted me, fingers working it restlessly as I tried to anchor my thoughts in the memory of his warmth, his arms, his voice. Each night grew colder. Each morning, darker. And then, on the eleventh day, just as the book had warned, we reached it. The horses slowed, snorting uneasily. Even the wind stilled, as though the very earth held its breath.

Inscribed inside in her elegant hand: "For the next keeper of the river bank. May your adventures be merry and your home always waiting." I was too choked up to speak. Lanc took the book, his own voice gruff. "Thank you, Eleanor. That's... that's real kind." "Not kindness," she corrected gently. "Investment. In continuity." She gave a final, approving nod and the window slid up, the car purring away. Lanc held the book as if it were spun glass. "She's giving our kid a bedtime story," he said, wonder in his voice. "That's how it works," I said, taking his arm. "You save a place, and then you tell its stories to the next ones, so they'll love it too."

Jada breathed heavily and climbed down the ladder with a heavy-looking book in her hand. She placed the book on the table and blew off the dust which covered it. I read the title— "The book of the gift of seers.” Below the title, there was a tiny writing which read— “only to be seen by seers.” After Jada cleaned off the dust and cobwebs, she opened the book. The first page took us by surprise. She kept flipping through. Her face had a perplexed expression, and I was astonished as well. When she got to the last page of the book, she turned towards me and said. “This is strange.”