Sunday, October 31, 2004

It was dreadfully cold, snowing, and turning dark. It was the last evening of the year, New Year's Eve. In this cold and darkness walked a little girl. She was poor and both her hands and feet were bare. Oh, She had had a pair of slippers when she had left home, but they had been too big for her. In truth, they had belonged to her mother. The little one had lost them while hurrying across the street to get out of the way of two carriages that had been driving along awfully fast. One of the slippers she could not find and the other had been snatched by a boy who, laughingly, shouted that he would use it as a cradle when he had a child of his own.

Now the little girl walked barefoot through the streets, her feet were swollen and red from the cold. She was carrying a little bundle of matches in her hand and had more in her apron pocket. No one had bought any all day or had given her so much as a penny. Cold and hungry, she walked through the city; cowed by life, the poor thing!

The snow flakes fell on her long yellow hair that curled so prettily at the neck, but to such things she never gave a thought. From every window of every house, light shone and one could smell the geese roasting all the way out in the street. It was, after all, New Year's Eve; and this she did think about.

In a little recess between two houses, she sat down and tucked her feet under her. But now she was even colder. She didn't dare go home because she had sold no matches and was frightened that her father might beat her. Besides, her home was almost as cold as the street. She lived in an attic, right under a tile roof. The wind whistled through it, even though they had tried to close the worst of the holes and cracks with straw and rags. Her little hands were numb from the cold. If only she dared strike a match, she could warm them a little. She took one and struck it against the brick wall of the house; It Lighted!! Oh, how warm it was and how clearly it burned like a little candle. She held her hand around it. How Strange! It seemed that the match had become a big iron stove with brass fixtures. Oh, how blessedly warm it was! She stretched out her legs so that they, too, could get warm, but at that moment the stove disappeared and she was sitting alone with a burned out match in her hand.

She struck another match. It's flame illuminated the wall and became as transparent as well. She could see right into the house. She saw the table spread with a damask cloth and set with the finest porcelain. In the center, on a dish, lay a roasted goose stuffed with apples and prunes! But what was even more wonderful: The Goose although a fork and knife were stuck in it's back, it had jumped off the table and was waddling toward her. The little girl stretched out her arms and the match burned out. Her hands touched the cold, solid walls of the house.

She lit a third match. The flame flared up and she was sitting under a Christmas tree that was much larger and more beautifully decorated than the one she had seen through the glass doors at the rich merchant's on Christmas Eve. Thousands of candles burned on it's green branches and colorful pictures like the ones you can see in store windows were looking down at her. She smiled up at them, but then the match burned itself out and a shooting star drew a line of fire across the dark heavens.

"Someone is dying," whispered the little girl. Her grandmother, who was dead, was the only person who had ever loved or been kind to the child; and she had told her that a shooting star was the soul of a human being traveling to God.

She struck yet another match against the wall and in it's blaze she saw her Grandmother, so sweet, so lovely, so blessedly kind. "Grandmother!" shouted the little one, "Take me with You! I know you will disappear when the match goes out, just like the warm stove, the goose, and the beautiful Christmas tree." Quickly she lit all the matches she had left in her hand so that her Grandmother could not leave. And the matches burned with such a clear, strong flame that the night became as light as day. Never had her Grandmother looked so beautiful. She lifted the little girl in her arms and flew with her to where there is neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear: Up to God.

In the cold morning the little girl was found dead. She had frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The sun on New Year's Day shone down on the little corpse, her lap was filled with burned out matches.

"She had been trying to warm herself" people said. No one knew the sweet visions she had seen, or in what glory she and her Grandmother had passed into a truly New Year.

i look upon the moon and stars at 10/31/2004 05:12:00 AM
Comments 0 stars were shining bright even without the moon