The Giver
So my first real short-story was due on a Thursday - a week or even more in advance, I began an idea (which should appear here later) - and then that Monday in Biology, I heard something fascinating. So inspirational. And I decided I had to write it.
There were some difficulties - I had two plot ideas, wanted to use them both, but wasn't sure how to tie them together. I sort of think it worked; the end gives an idea of their constant lifestyle, anyway. But I agree with many reactions in how I should have ended it really as it began.
(I do love my beginning, though, and so did my professor. He applauded it as "cinematic, inventive, and bold." I was just tired of everyone's wishy-washy openings.)
Oh, and I had no idea my title was already taken. Was informed by a peer who had written "not an original title" on his copy.
The Giver
Listen closely! This is a true story of heroism, love, and sacrifice.
Remove your mind from a small university campus in Indiana, zooming out higher and higher over all of North America, until you reach dangerous atmospheric levels. Now shoot south, hundreds of miles south, to the rainforests of Central America. Here you may fall to earth again - no, not toward any of the clusters of humanity, but the strict rainforest. Any spot will do. Ah, there’s a good one. Focus on it, moving down through the trees - yes, closer, closer - all the way to the ground. To a single bullthorn acacia shrub. Acacia collinsi, if you care. Our focus is solely on it and the ground around it, perhaps extending to a radius of six feet.
This is our setting.
The June sun beat down harshly, but the denizens of the tree were comfortably sheltered inside - primarily, inside the shrub’s thorns. Scouts posed at the entrances, observing the immediate area. Collectors scurried on their six legs out and down the leaves to collect the offerings of food and sap, murmuring with each pick-up, “All praise be to the bountiful Giver.”
Many of the thorns were nurseries for eggs. Inside one in particular, a nurse was teaching a group of newly hatched larvae basic lessons about the Giver.
“But what is the Giver?”
The nurse waved her antennas in expansive circular motions. “All around you - and outside too, what supports us. Everyday it brings forth food for us to eat and provides shelter for us to live in. This is why we all worship the Giver as our highest source of life. It is all of our utmost duty to take care of and protect the Giver in every way possible.”
“But what could harm the Giver?”
“Strange things. We should never be afraid of them, though, for nothing matters but the Giver. For the future of us all, we must do all we can to protect the Giver, even if it means sacrificing yourself. That is something each of us must be ready to do.”
The nurse patted them lightly with her antennas. “But don’t worry about that quite yet - there’s not much you can do now anyway. Just eat the sap that is brought to you and remember the Giver from whom it came; indeed, at every meal you should all say, ‘All praise be to the bountiful Giver.’”
“All praise be to the bountiful Giver,” they chanted back.
In the largest thorn, a grave council was about to take place. The captain of the scouts had arrived, as well as the leading surveyors of the colony. Many ants were clustered outside and around the thorn, doing their best to listen in.
Inside, the queen waited before her audience. She knew the subject of the council: it was a problem that had been troubling them for a long time now, that in fact traced back to an oversight in the time of another queen, a distant ancestor of her own. She recalled stories of the awareness of the problem; the same debate recurring again and again, with the warriors and surveyors of the time haggling back and forth about whether or not it would have to be done. The solution would take great effort, and many might succumb in the toil. But as it was delayed, it only ensured a greater problem for future generations. Indeed, the queen thought bitterly now, if only the scouts had been vigilant on that first day, it would have taken at most two ants to clear away what might now demand her entire colony.
But if it had to be done, then it had to be done. There was no question when it came to the sake of the Giver.
She rose before her advisors now. “Well? Have you decided?”
The captain moved forward. “It is beyond question, Your Majesty. My men and I personally have covered the entire area - the interloper encroaches upon at least half of the Giver now!”
The queen shivered.
“Damn those lazy ants that could have just carried the seedling away!” one of the elders raged. “They were not being thoughtless of us, but of the Giver! Irreverent layabouts-”
“And we will not follow their steps,” the queen said sharply. “Now is clearly the time for action, not useless talk. If you are all in consensus….”
Each of the ants nodded.
The queen sighed, briefly closing her eyes as she gathered herself, then began moving forward to her chamber’s exit. Her court hastily cleared way, and she moved into sight of most of the colony gathered outside.
“Colony!” she cried. “Too long have we, the Giver’s humble benefactories, sat idle while we allowed an interloper to threaten our blessed Giver. Yes!” she added, at the many gasps and whisperings that rippled across the crowd from her words. “Our Giver is in most serious danger! Will we now allow the Giver to be overcome, even exterminated, while we do nothing but watch?”
“No!” shouted the ants as one; many of the younger ones had burst into tears at her graphic imagery.
“The colony must rise to defend the Giver!”
“Yes!”
“That is our first and most sacred duty!”
“Duty!”
“For the sake of the Giver!”
“THE GIVER!”
“Then go forth, led by the scouts, and eliminate the threat!”
The ants roared their approval, and as one turned to surge down the limb toward the main highway south. The scouts, including her captain, were screeching for control - after all, the mass would have little clue about the location of the threat, but they would be organized soon. The queen gave a little sigh of weariness as she turned to go back inside her thorn. The threat was large, and though she knew her colony’s perseverance would never tire, some of their bodies might all the same in their zeal. How many would not return? - But, it was all necessary for the Giver.
Finally organized, the colony surged across the open ground toward the threat. The scouts screamed orders, and they launched themselves, mandibles first, toward the base of the threat. Furiously they chewed, wave after wave of them. It would be a long time before they made any impression at all, but fortunately none of them were in a position to notice that. All were engulfed in the task, and would literally die before ceasing their attack on what threatened the Giver.
No one in the colony had such measurements of time for the length their endeavor took; all that was important, anyway, was that it was eventually done. With a thud that shook the queen and those few remaining in the Giver, the enemy was cast down, and those of the colony who had survived (even without being smushed by the final victory) let out exhausted cheers before collapsing on the spot. At last, though, they returned to the Giver and their homes. The warriors were celebrated with song and dance and much refreshment from the grateful Giver, and the few poets of the colony promised to immortalize the great deed.
One day not long after the colony had almost completely recuperated, a scout was traveling along some twigs a good distance from the queen’s thorn when he realized something horrible, something beyond belief, was taking place just a little ways over. Screaming, he rushed back home to tell the colony that some giant beast was actually trying to eat the Giver!
As soon as the initial wave of horror had passed, every ant within hearing threw down what they were doing and rushed out in the direction from which the scout had come. One nurse actually had to physically restrain the queen herself (“if the colony goes extinct, who will protect the Giver?”).
Upon reaching the site, howling battle cries, the ants threw themselves upon whatever of the beast they could reach - most particularly (and most heroically, at least in a symbolic sense) upon the leaves of the Giver that were in the process of being devoured by the beast. Those ants spent their last seconds of life biting the beast’s tongue, while dozens on the outside ferociously attacked its mouth and nose.
It did not take long for the quantity of the attackers to make an impression on the beast; with a snort and a shake of its head, it desisted and headed off to find a less aggressive meal, which would seem like it should not be so difficult of a task for a poor herbivore.
There were some difficulties - I had two plot ideas, wanted to use them both, but wasn't sure how to tie them together. I sort of think it worked; the end gives an idea of their constant lifestyle, anyway. But I agree with many reactions in how I should have ended it really as it began.
(I do love my beginning, though, and so did my professor. He applauded it as "cinematic, inventive, and bold." I was just tired of everyone's wishy-washy openings.)
Oh, and I had no idea my title was already taken. Was informed by a peer who had written "not an original title" on his copy.
The Giver
Listen closely! This is a true story of heroism, love, and sacrifice.
Remove your mind from a small university campus in Indiana, zooming out higher and higher over all of North America, until you reach dangerous atmospheric levels. Now shoot south, hundreds of miles south, to the rainforests of Central America. Here you may fall to earth again - no, not toward any of the clusters of humanity, but the strict rainforest. Any spot will do. Ah, there’s a good one. Focus on it, moving down through the trees - yes, closer, closer - all the way to the ground. To a single bullthorn acacia shrub. Acacia collinsi, if you care. Our focus is solely on it and the ground around it, perhaps extending to a radius of six feet.
This is our setting.
The June sun beat down harshly, but the denizens of the tree were comfortably sheltered inside - primarily, inside the shrub’s thorns. Scouts posed at the entrances, observing the immediate area. Collectors scurried on their six legs out and down the leaves to collect the offerings of food and sap, murmuring with each pick-up, “All praise be to the bountiful Giver.”
Many of the thorns were nurseries for eggs. Inside one in particular, a nurse was teaching a group of newly hatched larvae basic lessons about the Giver.
“But what is the Giver?”
The nurse waved her antennas in expansive circular motions. “All around you - and outside too, what supports us. Everyday it brings forth food for us to eat and provides shelter for us to live in. This is why we all worship the Giver as our highest source of life. It is all of our utmost duty to take care of and protect the Giver in every way possible.”
“But what could harm the Giver?”
“Strange things. We should never be afraid of them, though, for nothing matters but the Giver. For the future of us all, we must do all we can to protect the Giver, even if it means sacrificing yourself. That is something each of us must be ready to do.”
The nurse patted them lightly with her antennas. “But don’t worry about that quite yet - there’s not much you can do now anyway. Just eat the sap that is brought to you and remember the Giver from whom it came; indeed, at every meal you should all say, ‘All praise be to the bountiful Giver.’”
“All praise be to the bountiful Giver,” they chanted back.
In the largest thorn, a grave council was about to take place. The captain of the scouts had arrived, as well as the leading surveyors of the colony. Many ants were clustered outside and around the thorn, doing their best to listen in.
Inside, the queen waited before her audience. She knew the subject of the council: it was a problem that had been troubling them for a long time now, that in fact traced back to an oversight in the time of another queen, a distant ancestor of her own. She recalled stories of the awareness of the problem; the same debate recurring again and again, with the warriors and surveyors of the time haggling back and forth about whether or not it would have to be done. The solution would take great effort, and many might succumb in the toil. But as it was delayed, it only ensured a greater problem for future generations. Indeed, the queen thought bitterly now, if only the scouts had been vigilant on that first day, it would have taken at most two ants to clear away what might now demand her entire colony.
But if it had to be done, then it had to be done. There was no question when it came to the sake of the Giver.
She rose before her advisors now. “Well? Have you decided?”
The captain moved forward. “It is beyond question, Your Majesty. My men and I personally have covered the entire area - the interloper encroaches upon at least half of the Giver now!”
The queen shivered.
“Damn those lazy ants that could have just carried the seedling away!” one of the elders raged. “They were not being thoughtless of us, but of the Giver! Irreverent layabouts-”
“And we will not follow their steps,” the queen said sharply. “Now is clearly the time for action, not useless talk. If you are all in consensus….”
Each of the ants nodded.
The queen sighed, briefly closing her eyes as she gathered herself, then began moving forward to her chamber’s exit. Her court hastily cleared way, and she moved into sight of most of the colony gathered outside.
“Colony!” she cried. “Too long have we, the Giver’s humble benefactories, sat idle while we allowed an interloper to threaten our blessed Giver. Yes!” she added, at the many gasps and whisperings that rippled across the crowd from her words. “Our Giver is in most serious danger! Will we now allow the Giver to be overcome, even exterminated, while we do nothing but watch?”
“No!” shouted the ants as one; many of the younger ones had burst into tears at her graphic imagery.
“The colony must rise to defend the Giver!”
“Yes!”
“That is our first and most sacred duty!”
“Duty!”
“For the sake of the Giver!”
“THE GIVER!”
“Then go forth, led by the scouts, and eliminate the threat!”
The ants roared their approval, and as one turned to surge down the limb toward the main highway south. The scouts, including her captain, were screeching for control - after all, the mass would have little clue about the location of the threat, but they would be organized soon. The queen gave a little sigh of weariness as she turned to go back inside her thorn. The threat was large, and though she knew her colony’s perseverance would never tire, some of their bodies might all the same in their zeal. How many would not return? - But, it was all necessary for the Giver.
Finally organized, the colony surged across the open ground toward the threat. The scouts screamed orders, and they launched themselves, mandibles first, toward the base of the threat. Furiously they chewed, wave after wave of them. It would be a long time before they made any impression at all, but fortunately none of them were in a position to notice that. All were engulfed in the task, and would literally die before ceasing their attack on what threatened the Giver.
No one in the colony had such measurements of time for the length their endeavor took; all that was important, anyway, was that it was eventually done. With a thud that shook the queen and those few remaining in the Giver, the enemy was cast down, and those of the colony who had survived (even without being smushed by the final victory) let out exhausted cheers before collapsing on the spot. At last, though, they returned to the Giver and their homes. The warriors were celebrated with song and dance and much refreshment from the grateful Giver, and the few poets of the colony promised to immortalize the great deed.
One day not long after the colony had almost completely recuperated, a scout was traveling along some twigs a good distance from the queen’s thorn when he realized something horrible, something beyond belief, was taking place just a little ways over. Screaming, he rushed back home to tell the colony that some giant beast was actually trying to eat the Giver!
As soon as the initial wave of horror had passed, every ant within hearing threw down what they were doing and rushed out in the direction from which the scout had come. One nurse actually had to physically restrain the queen herself (“if the colony goes extinct, who will protect the Giver?”).
Upon reaching the site, howling battle cries, the ants threw themselves upon whatever of the beast they could reach - most particularly (and most heroically, at least in a symbolic sense) upon the leaves of the Giver that were in the process of being devoured by the beast. Those ants spent their last seconds of life biting the beast’s tongue, while dozens on the outside ferociously attacked its mouth and nose.
It did not take long for the quantity of the attackers to make an impression on the beast; with a snort and a shake of its head, it desisted and headed off to find a less aggressive meal, which would seem like it should not be so difficult of a task for a poor herbivore.