Christmas Story
The Little Match Girl
By H.C. Andersen
It was terribly cold. It was snowing, and starting to go dark. It was the last night of the year, New Year’s Eve. In the cold and darkness, a small, poor girl was walking the streets. Her head and her feet were bare. Yes, she had been wearing slippers when she left home, but what good did that do?
The slippers were far too big, as it was her mother that had worn them before.
They were so big that the little girl had lost them when she ran across the street to avoid being hit by a passing wagon . One slipper was impossible to find, and a boy ran away with the other. He said that he could use it as a cradle when he had children.
The little girl’s bare feet were red and blue from the cold. In an old apron she had a bunch of match sticks. She held the bundle up in her hand.
No one had bought anything from her all day, and the girl had not even earned a shilling.
Hungry and frozen, she walked around while snowflakes fell into her long, blond hair which curled neatly at the nape of her neck. The lights were shining in all the windows, and all around her there was a delicious smell of roast goose, as it was New Year’s Eve. She sat down and curled up in a nook between two houses. She tucked her little tired feet underneath herself, but was still frozen.
She didn’t dare to go home, because she hadn’t sold a single matchstick, and her father was sure to beat her.
It was also cold at home, because the wind would whistle through the house even though straw and rags had been pushed into the cracks.
Her tiny hands were almost dead from the cold. Oh, how a little matchstick would do her some good! If only she dared to strike one against the wall and warm her fingers a little. She pulled one out. Swoosh! How it sparkled and how it burned!
It was a wonderful, clear warmth, and it looked just like a little candle when she held her hands around it.
The little girl dreamed of sitting in front of a large cast iron fireplace with shiny brass bells on it. The fire burnt so blessedly and warmed so well. She stretched out her feet to warm them as well, but the flame went out. The fireplace disappeared, and she sat with only the burned-out matchstick in her hand.
Snøfall på mørk bakgrunn
She lit another match. It burned brightly with heat, and as the light hit the wall it seemed to almost vanish. It was as if she could look into the dining room. The table was set with a perfectly white tablecloth and the finest china. And there was the roast goose! It smelled so divine, filled with prunes and apples.
The roast goose jumped off the table with the fork and knife still in its back, and walked towards her. It came all the way up to the girl.
But the match burnt out, and all she could see was the thick cold wall.
The little girl lit another. Then she imagined sitting under the most gorgeous Christmas tree. It was even bigger and more beautifully decorated than what she had seen through the glass door of the rich merchant this Christmas.
A thousand candles burned bright on the green branches, and little pictures peered down at her, just as she had seen in the shop windows.
She stretched both hands into the air… Then the matchstick died. All the Christmas lights rose higher and higher, and she now saw that there were stars in the sky. One fell down and made a long streak in the sky.
“Now somebody has died”, said the little girl, because when her grandmother was alive she had said: “When a star falls, a soul ascends to God”. Once again, she struck a matchstick against the wall. It flared up, and in the light she could see her old grandmother, clear and shining, so gentle and blessed.
”Grandmother!” cried the little girl. “Oh, take me with you, Grandmother I know you’ll be gone when the match goes out, just like the warm oven, the delicious roast goose and the big, beautiful Christmas tree.”
She quickly went about striking all the remaining matches, as she so desperately wanted her Grandmother to stay with her for as long as possible. The matchsticks shone so bright it felt like it was the middle of the day.
Her grandmother had never been so beautiful and big. She lifted the little girl up in her arms, and they flew so high, so high.
Up there, there was no cold, no hunger, no worries, because now they were with God.
En fyrstikk som brenner med sort bakgrunn
However, in the cold morning hours, the little girl was still sitting in the nook of the house. Her cheeks were red, and her mouth was smiling.
But she was dead. Frozen to death on the last night of the year.
Her whole bundle of matches were burnt. “She must have wanted to warm herself up,” people said. No one knew anything about all the pretty things she had seen, and about the brilliant light that had followed her and her grandmother into the New Year.
Sources:
- Våre vakreste julefortellinger (2021)
Orage Forlag AS
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Hans Tegner (Offentlig eiendom)
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Jahn Thomas Lundeby (Offentlig eiendom)
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Helen Stratton (Offentlig eiendom)
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Helen Stratton (Offentlig eiendom)
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Hans Tegner (Offentlig eiendom)
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Hinko Smrekar
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Getty Images
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Hans Tegner (Offentlig eiendom)
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