The Giver Book Full Book Novels & Stories

Rain couldn't believe that Ben was utterly unaffected by Clarissa and her two friends' conversation. "The package," said Ben. "The package your father asked me to take contains an old book. Mr. Orwell said the book was worth billions of dollars. Many people are hunting for it. I'm sure all three of them are after the book. Your father will auction the book and use the money for your education, so you don't have to work anymore."

“Yiipiie... I can't wait for my siblings to be born. Now let's open our gifts. There are many gifts under the Christmas tree. Mom, you gave me this book?” Arthur held up the storybook in his hand with pictures of animals. The first gift that Arthur opened was a gift from his Mommy. “You will learn to read after this. You need more books to practice." "Okay, I'll read more. Dad, I can't find a present from you." “Your gift isn't there. Your gift is here."

And then she poured the lighter fluid over my books, one by one, before setting them on fire while I watched. I only managed to save this one—my favourite. It’s the story of a boy no one ever loved. A boy everyone ignored, spat on, forgot. But he grows up and saves the world from hunger with nothing but his wit and heart. I used to think he was just a character. But now… now I see myself in him. I want to be like him. I want to prove that I’m not useless. That maybe, one day, I can be something to the world.

His hands, probably trembling with disbelief would have forced themselves to open the small gift box beside it. Inside, nestled on soft fabric, were the tiny remains of our unborn child. Its small hands curled into delicate fists, its eyes closed forever, never to grow, never to breathe. I could almost feel the impact on him, as if he had been struck by a physical blow. All the arrogance, all the anger, draining away, leaving him weak. The box would have slipped from his suddenly numb grasp, crashing to the ground. "What is Irene trying to do by sending this kind of thing on the day of the marking ceremony? Crazy woman!" he would have spat, kicking the box aside in disgust.

"You're the first person I met here who wasn't trying to be something else." He was quiet for a moment. "That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me." --- At 4, they walked back. The streets were warm. The sun was golden. "I have something for you," he said. He pulled out a book. The cover was worn. The pages were marked. "This is my copy," he said. "The one I've been reading." She took it. Held it in her hands. "Why are you giving it to me?" "Because I want you to have it. So when you're on the plane, you can read it."

"You gifted me your book." "I gifted you our book. The one I've been reading since I was a solitary boy in a freezing foster home. The one you discovered in my hidden library. The one where I scratched 'impossible' in the margin and then crossed it out." He seizes my hand. "You're the explanation I crossed it out. You're the explanation I trust that feelings aren't permanent. You're the explanation I'm still breathing." I crush the book against my chest. "I don't possess the words."

Not because everything was flawless. Because everyone belonged. --- His eyes fell on the wrapped book Mara had given him that morning. He picked it up. He'd noticed she'd written something inside but hadn't read it with everyone around. Now he opened the cover. Her neat handwriting filled the first page. For the man who chose to stay. Thank you for proving that staying can become a home. With all my love. — Mara He read the words twice. Then a third time. A warmth settled in his chest that had nothing to do with the fire.

He was crying but without any sound. He wanted to stole it back, but he knew he was nothing compared to him. He was a lot bigger and stronger compared to the guy. Thus, he pleaded instead, “Please, give it back to me. It was a gift, I promise to not read it, just give it back to me.” “I don't care if this is a gift or what, and you don't need to promise anything because you will never read again.” The old one looked at him with a sinister gaze, “I will make sure that every book that you will hold will burn.”

Barbara said. “Alright, that is all. This is a little something for you here. It’s a token for you Barbara, my little token” he stretched a paper. Barbara collected it from him and looked through, it was a cheque of $2,000. “Oh my…….” The young Mrs. Gillian screamed in excitement. “Thank you dad, thank you so much” she showed it to Steve who looked lost. Thank you dad” Steve uttered. “Thank you for coming, it’s an honour” The old man smiled. "Dad please, can I borrow some books?" Barbara asked. "Sure, you can take any book you want but I am leaving now. Please ensure to lock the door and bring the key to me when you are done. Have to go now, good night" he stood up and supported himself with

"What came to steal from me?” "I came to get my book," I answered entredentes. The old man frowned, tipping his head slightly. "I don't have any books.” "I'm not blind, he's in your hand.” The man had the audacity to try to hide the book on his bent back. "This bible was a gift from my adoptive daughter. You can't want to steal it. There are jewels in the drawers, money under the mattress. Leave my bible alone.”