The Little Matchgirl

That New Year’s Eve was bitterly cold with heavy snow. The streets were deserted. Only one small girl was walking through them.
She was barefooted and she wore a ragged little dress. She shivered and her feet were turning blue with the cold.

She had not sold a single match from the bundles of matches she carried in her tattered bag. Her father would be angry if she went home without any coins. So, she really hoped someone would buy them.
She looked at the light streaming out on to the street from the windows of the houses. Inside she saw families celebrating New Year’s Eve. People were seated at tables laden with roasted and baked foods, in rooms lit up with great fires. Decorated Christmas trees still stood in the rooms looking beautiful and cheerful.

Cold, hungry and tired, she remembered her home. It was a poor cottage with a broken roof through which the wind howled and rain poured in. And they were too poor to have a fire to keep the cottage warm.
She found a corner between the walls of a house and sat down there, sheltering from the biting wind. She tucked her frozen feet under her ragged dress. She rubbed her hands and blew on them to warm them.
She looked at the bundles of matches in her bag. Then she struck one match against the wall, thinking, ‘Maybe it will give me a little warmth!’ A tiny flame flickered. She held it between her hands, feeling warm. She imagined she was sitting near a warm stove. But soon the match burnt out.
The little girl was sorely tempted to burn one more match. Again there was a flicker, and for a brief moment there was light and warmth. Now she imagined a table on which was laid a dish of roast goose stuffed with plums and apples. It made her feel good as she imagined that she was having a feast.

But the match went out, leaving her cold and hungry once again. But now she had known the pleasure of getting a little feeling of warmth and a dream of a great feast!
So, she lit a third match. As she looked at the tiny flame, she saw a glittering Christmas tree with candles and decorations gleaming all over it like the one she had seen through the window. But when the match burnt out in her hand, the image of the Christmas tree faded.
She looked around in the dark and looked up at the sky. Suddenly, she saw a shooting star. Grandmother used to say that a shooting star showed that someone was dying. Then the cold made her shiver again and she lit another match.

“Gran!” she cried out. For there, in the glow, she saw her grandmother who had loved her so much! “Don’t go!” she begged, as she kept lighting the matches. She knew if the matches burnt out, the glow would fade and her beloved grandmother would vanish too.
Gran walked towards the little girl and held out her arms, warm and loving. The little girl happily went off with Gran into a gently glowing light, into a place where there was neither cold nor hunger.

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