The Giver, Gathering Blue, Messenger, Son. Lois Lowry

Чтение книги онлайн.

      JONAS FELT NOTHING unusual at first. He felt only the light touch of the old man’s hands on his back.

      He tried to relax, to breathe evenly. The room was absolutely silent, and for a moment Jonas feared that he might disgrace himself now, on the first day of his training, by falling asleep.

      Then he shivered. He realised that the touch of the hands felt, suddenly, cold. At the same instant, breathing in, he felt the air change, and his very breath was cold. He licked his lips, and in doing so, his tongue touched the suddenly chilled air.

      It was very startling; but he was not at all frightened, now. He was filled with energy, and he breathed again, feeling the sharp intake of frigid air. Now, too, he could feel cold air swirling around his entire body. He felt it blow against his hands where they lay at his sides, and over his back.

      The touch of the man’s hands seemed to have disappeared.

      Now he became aware of an entirely new sensation: pinpricks? No, because they were soft and without pain. Tiny, cold, featherlike feelings peppered his body and face. He put out his tongue again, and caught one of the dots of cold upon it. It disappeared from his awareness instantly; but he caught another, and another. The sensation made him smile.

      One part of his consciousness knew that he was still lying there, on the bed, in the Annexe room. Yet another, separate part of his being was upright now, in a sitting position, and beneath him he could feel that he was not on the soft decorated bedcovering at all, but rather seated on a flat, hard surface. His hands now held (though at the same time they were still motionless at his sides) a rough, damp rope.

      And he could see, though his eyes were closed. He could see a bright, whirling torrent of crystals in the air around him, and he could see them gather on the backs of his hands, like cold fur.

      His breath was visible.

      Beyond, through the swirl of what he now, somehow, perceived was the thing the old man had spoken of – snow – he could look out and down a great distance. He was up high somewhere. The ground was thick with the furry snow, but he sat slightly above it on a hard, flat object.

      Sledge, he knew abruptly. He was sitting on a thing called sledge. And the sledge itself seemed to be poised at the top of a long, extended mound that rose from the very land where he was. Even as he thought the word “mound”, his new consciousness told him hill.

      Then the sledge, with Jonas himself upon it, began to move through the snowfall, and he understood instantly that now he was going downhill. No voice made an explanation. The experience explained itself to him.

      His face cut through the frigid air as he began the descent, moving through the substance called snow on the vehicle called sledge, which propelled itself on what he now knew without doubt to be runners.

      Comprehending all of those things as he sped downwards, he was free to enjoy the breathless glee that overwhelmed him: the speed, the clear cold air, the total silence, the feeling of balance and excitement and peace.

      Then, as the angle of incline lessened, as the mound – the hill – flattened, nearing the bottom, the sledge’s forward motion slowed. The snow was piled now around it, and he pushed with his body, moving it forward, not wanting the exhilarating ride to end.

      Finally the obstruction of the piled snow was too much for the thin runners of the sledge, and he came to a stop. He sat there for a moment, panting, holding the rope in his cold hands. Tentatively he opened his eyes – not his snow-hill-sledge eyes, for they had been open throughout the strange ride. He opened his ordinary eyes, and saw that he was still on the bed, that he had not moved at all.

      The old man, still beside the bed, was watching him. “How do you feel?” he asked.

      Jonas sat up and tried to answer honestly. “Surprised,” he said, after a moment.

      The old man wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Whew,” he said. “It was exhausting. But you know, even transmitting that tiny memory to you – I think it lightened me just a little.”

      “Do you mean – you did say I could ask questions?”

      The man nodded, encouraging СКАЧАТЬ