The Giver

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"Sled, he knew abruptly. He was sitting on a thing called sled. And the sled itself seemed to be poised at the top of a long, extended mound that rose from the very land he was."
"I'm right, then," the Giver said. "Your beginning to see the color red."
"His skin began to sting. Restlessly he moved one arm, bending it, and felt a sharp pain in the crease of his inner arm at the elbow."
"The colors of the carnage were grotesquely bright: the crimson wetness on the rough and dusty fabric, the ripped shreds of grass, startling green, in the boys hair."
"He could feel the little head nudge his back, bouncing gently against him as he rode."
"All at once he could see lights, and he recognized them now. He knew they where shinning threw the windows of rooms, that they were the red, blue, and yellow lights."

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