Personal Narrative Essay On The Giver

For the first time, he heard something that he knew to be music. He heard people singing. Looking at the house with the colorful lights and people singing on the inside Jonas approached. He politely knocked on the door and a very familiar man answered the door. The man in the doorway was The Giver. Jonas was happy to see him again.

My mother had left my dad’s house slippers by the coat rack behind the door. I was grateful to her as the floor felt like ice. Hanging up my coat, I slipped into my dad’s bathrobe, which was hanging on its peg. We had a fireplace in the living room and the chimney exited the west side of the roof. I smelled the smoke of the dying fire, and I knew my mom was in bed. The bedrooms were located on the second story. Her room was located at the end of the hallway, and my room was at the head of the stairs above the

At last, we arrived at the bay where my grandma laid. My body froze. I had no idea on how to approach her. I slowly walked in as my dad said, “Here comes the birthday girl.” I could only smile. Grandma looked back at me even when her mind wasn’t completely there. I felt so much pain just seeing her lay there. My heart ached for her. She could hear us, but couldn’t talk back. My cold hand grasped on tight to her warm hand. I didn’t want to let go. My

I open the front door and immediately see the 20 x 30 inch portrait we had professional taken last Winter. I see Adayln’s pearly white smile, Mason’s differently colored eyes that gleam brighter than a splash of water in sunlight. Tears rush down my pale face. I walk upstairs and into Kylar’s room. I am welcomed with his scent. His favorite colon, the one from Macy’s that Dad got him on his 8th birthday. He never missed a day without it on. I go to my room and gather my most prized belongings. The blanket that all six of us made at church, the small family collision of Kylar, Mason, Adayln, and I, the beaded necklace that Mason made me for my 13th birthday, the Pandora Ring that Mommy got me when I became a teenager, and so many more prized items that I fill it three moving boxes. I am ready to leave. I walk out and see my family smiling at

My freshman year if high school I took a theater class. One day while in this class my teacher, Ms. Jonas, came up to me and asked me a question that would change my entire high school experience. She asked, “Do you want to audition for one act play?” By asking that question she got me involved in high school theatre which entirely changed me as a person. Joining theater helped me gain confidence, become a better leader, and find what I want to do for the rest of my life.

I opened the door and look back at the dusty house, turning behind me to see what was once a street of Disney World was now a bedroom with a thin layer of dust coating everything. I looked at the door across the hall to another wooden door and saw what it said Westbriar Elementary School, 2011-2012. My feet moved on their own as they walked over to the door, the crystal doorknob sparkled, contrast to the darkness of the house. The door opened, the sound of the creaking was able to compete with a wailing child. I entered the room and saw a familiar looking table and playground.

I open the door and hear a faucet running. I go into the kitchen and see my dad washing his hands, I see that same color that I saw in the forest, red. I stop and look at my dad and said quietly, “Dad, What were you doing?” he looked at me and responded “What, I can’t hear you.” I began to take a deep breath and then my voice began to raise, “What did you do when you got home!” He looked at me and grinned, that same grin I saw yesterday last night. I felt my body shake and then I lifted my head and saw he was drying his hands and begun to walk over towards to

My mom had called me three time, each time her voice grew with annoyance. I dropped my Barbie dolls that I had been playing with for the last hour. They dropped to the floor puled on to each other with the same plastic smiles looking up at me. I sped down the stairs like a cheater looking for its prey. When I reached the bottom a whiff of dinner hit my face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled like mashed potatoes and chicken. I resisted the urge to go check and went straight to the living room. The T.V. was on and seemed to have my brother’s full attention. My brother was seven years older than me and we shared a striking resemblance. My mom and dad were next to each other on the opposite end of the couch. My mom had a pillow

I leave his room and turn off the light. I shut his door and start walking across the hall to my bedroom. After letting out a long and shaky breath, I open my door.

The only fiction that ever got through to me was, “The Giver”. It was a book about a community that has no feeling for life, or others around them. The people that were in the community were being emotionally controlled by the government. The government thought if the people had no feeling they were more efficient for society. The Giver in the book saw all memories of the past, and was the only one who could have any feeling. The Giver was the only one who could feel pain, anger, death, and the only person in the community that could dream.

I remember walking into a new house unknowing neither if I had any toys nor if I had a bedroom with my deep pink walls. My mom led me through this unknown house with its peculiar sights and smells. I tightened my grasp on her hand to large

Imagine a world without love or color. Jonas the protagonist in The Giver he ran away and left comparing his community to our society. In our society we aloud to love whoever we want and we free to love. In jonas society love is a word that is prohibited no longer said for example abandoned no longer mentioned because they don't know what it means.

I threw my tackle box and pole in the shed and bolted straight to my room. I locked the door and started bawling into my pillow. I didn’t understand why I needed to cry, I just knew that I did. I heard my parents standing outside of my door but they didn’t say a word, they wiggled the door knob once but never again. They just stood there, silent.

The wind whistled through the dark night as I waited for my mom’s car to pull into the school parking lot. Soon, it was just me under the glow of the gym door light. I called my mom. No answer. After dialing his number, my dad’s voice came across my phone saying he would be there in a few minutes. Eventually I was climbing into the truck covered in concrete dust, evidence of my dad’s long day at work.

I wandered in and found myself standing in a enormous room with a red brick fireplace. I strolled around until I got to the very next floor where I found a bedroom that I called “dibs” on! Peering out the window at my Mom and Dad unpacking the car, so far down they appeared like mini-figures playing with Hot wheels.