This was for a contest to re-create a Fairy Tale…It’s also my FAVE fairy tale AND the little girl in this is my Daughter. I took all Shots except the alley. The Teddy Bear beside my daughter used to belong to my husband when he was a very small toddler. Both the eyes and the nose are missing!!Used a pic from stock exchange!
The Little Matchstick Girl( Hans Christian Anderson)
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening— the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little maiden with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold.
She carried matches in an old apron. The flakes of snow covered her long hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, for you know it was New Year’s Eve.
In a corner formed by two houses, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder. Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it.
Rischt. How it blazed, how it burnt,as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall,she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
“Someone has just died” said the little girl; for her old grandmother had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God. She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, with such an expression of love.
Grandmother, cried the little one… …She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety—they were with God.