Ziggy's Corner: Okay the second of my gifts! This one is a little more dramatic and sweet too. I hope everyone who reads this gets a nice warm feeling when you finish reading it. It's based on my all time favorite Christmas story, so I hope you all like it too. It is also a one shot story, and I dedicate this to my number one fan of Everything's Relative, Heiduska. I hope you like this story, Heidi.
THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL
Emma was a seven year old orphan, living in the harsh streets of London. She should have lived in a foster home, or in an orphanage, but no one seemed wanted a girl of her age, and the orphanages she always went to treated her like dirt. It was as if she was cursed, tossed in the trash like a warn doll that no one seemed to even think about anymore.
The brown rabbit stood in the snow, watching people in fine clothing dress passed her, whispering about this or that of the holidays. She felt like an ant in a city of grasshoppers. The winter weather was so cold today, and the girl was dressed in nothing but an old ragged sweater she had found just laying in the ground, a long green skirt, and worn out shoes.
"Would you like to buy a match sir? Only two for a penny," she said in her very tiny voice.
"Get out of my way girl," a tall looking lizard snapped at her. "Can't you see I'm on my way home for Christmas Eve?"
"Yes, sir, I know that, I was hoping to buy myself a Christmas Eve dinner, so if you could find it in your heart to buy a match or two?"
"You're going to buy a Christmas dinner by selling matches for two a penny?" he asked, barely able to contain his laughter. "Go away you little peddler, I have to get home." He pushed her aside and continued his way.
Night was coming now, the sun slowly shifting down to the horizon. Emma began to shiver, and decided to hurry to the corner of the alley that she called home. It promised to snow tonight, and if she didn't package her box just right, she would freeze.
Along the way she could see bright lights from people's homes, and decided to peer into their windows. At the first house she could see a large family laughing, warming themselves by the fire, as the father got ready to set down the Christmas Turkey onto the table.
Emma's stomach rumbled as she could smell the sweet meat, the fine gravy, the tender vegetables, and stuffing. Fruits of all kind glazed the dinner plates, and there was so much bread and butter the Royal Army would have been jealous at the servings. Emma looked at the food, and began to envision herself inside that warm house. She saw herself as one of the children, laughing and rubbing her paws by the fire, singing Christmas hymns with her mother, and sitting down for a feast a king would plead to join.
But her fantasy ended as quickly as it began. The family had turned to look at her from the window, and the father's eyes narrowed as he stormed to it. He scowled for a second and waved her away, as if she were some stray. When that didn't work, his wife asked him to pull the blinds and come to dinner. Emma felt tears run down her cheeks, and shivered as a gust of cold air brushed against her body.
"Guess I'll be on my way," she said with a sniff. She was so cold and hungry, that she had failed to see where she was walking, and nearly screeched as a car barely managed hitting her.
"Watch where you are going, wrench," a drunken ape yelled at her, speeding away. People gasped, and looked at the scene, but oddly enough walked on by, not wanting to see if the poor girl was okay.
Emma continued to walk, and felt the frost bite at her toes and feet. When she looked down, she saw that she had lost her only slippers when the car nearly hit her. She bit her lips, and tried to look for them but they were old, and had probably been torn to shreds when the car raced away. She swallowed, ignoring her hunger and tears and slumped back for home.
As she walked, she could hear joyful music. She smiled and followed the beautiful singing, and found a group of carolers who had stopped by a large house. She listened to them sing Silent Night. She smiled, and hid in the shadows of the house, basking in the warmth of the kitchen door that was open. When the carolers had finished their song, the woman of the house asked them pleasantly to come in and warm themselves, and then turned her eyes on the girl.
"I'm sorry, is she with you?" she asked.
"No, I don't know who she is," the head caroler said, eyeing her carefully. "Child, you should be on your way home now, it's getting too dark for a girl your size to be out."
"I'm lost," she fibbed. "Could I come in, just for a second?" They would probably ask her phone number, and when told, she'd be back in that horrid orphanage, but right now, as the cold attacked her all at one, she really did not care.
"I don't think that's a good idea," the woman of the house said. She turned to the carolers and frowned, "I hope you don't think too badly of me, but there have been some rash of burglaries in the wealthier homes, in this neighborhood."
They nodded their heads. "You can't be too careful, nowadays," the head caroler said. He turned to the girl and narrowed his eyes. "If you would like, you could stand out here, and we'll be happy to bring you home when we come back out."
She nodded her head at the offer, but as she watched the woman of the house dial the phone and obviously call the police, she became frightened, and bolted. She had heard horrible tales from some of the older children about jail, and feared that no one would believe some one like her about her innocence.
As she walked further, she lit a match. She hated to use the only thing that could make her money, but the cold was getting worse, and she wasn't anywhere near home. All around her the houses were lit bright, with shining greens and reds and blues and yellows, with sweet smells and laughter coming from all of them, or most anyway. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a bell toll, and she walked in the light of the candle's warmth.
She eyed another house, and snuck nearer to it, peering in. A massive party, full of people dressed with gorgeous dresses, and sipping wine was in full swing. A large orchestra was playing modern Christmas music, and handsome men in tuxedos asked young women in large ball dresses for their hands in the dance.
Emma sighed and breathed in the heat of the candle, pretending to be one of those women. How loved she felt, how much she felt like she belonged, not trash or garbage to be ignored, but a true treasure. And the velvety feel of the dress and the warmth in which it covered her body made her smile all the more.
"Hey, you kid!" came a coarse voice. A large bear stormed over to her, and picked up her wrist, exposing a watch in her hand. "What are you doing with my wife's watch? This is a Christmas gift!"
"I-I'm sorry," she cried. She hadn't even realized that in her fantasy she head picked up the gold and diamond trinket off the ground. "I'll give it back to you," she said.
"You'll do more than that," he roared. "Some one call the police, I caught the thief of our neighborhood in the act!"
Emma squeaked, and tossed and turned. Finally a shadow caught the eye of the bear, and allowed the girl to rush by him, but in the tussle, losing a few matches. She thought about going back for them, but when the bear saw them on the ground, he brought accusations of arson as well. Emma ran off into the distance.
Twenty minutes later, and nearing her box, the shivering little rabbit found one last window to peer into, drawn to it by the laughter of children, and paper ripping frantically. Her eyes grew wide with what she saw. Dozens of presents, hundreds lines the floor, under a massive tree decked out with candles, and lights, gingerbread and other sweets, topped with a golden star, lined with silver edges.
The children were handing out the presents to each other, and were opening them up at rapid speed, giggling and playing with their new toys, congratulating each other on their new clothing. Her legs were weary, but she managed to stay on the garbage can long enough to see a gigantic Christmas cake to be brought into the room by the children's mother.
Once again her stomach rumbled, and once again she fantasized of being in that house, in the warmth of family, holding her very own package to open, to share. Her legs gave out on her, and she crumbled down to the ground, injuring her ankle. What was more horrible, the trash cans echoed into the house, and when the mother and father came to investigate, they looked at her like all the others. Like trash, like a thief who would have taken their darling children's gifts. And once again, Emma was on the run.
She hobbled, ignoring the police sirens off in the distance, and felt her way to the alley. It was completely dark now, with barely any stars. Her eyes fluttered, and in desperation, she lit all of her matches, not caring if she would have nothing to sell.
And as they light, brightness surrounded her, and she felt warmth like she had never felt before. A strange shadowy figure swept down to the ground and carefully lifted her out of her box, smiling as he looked down on her.
"Sorry," he said, his voice strong. "I guess I'm a little to blame for this, but I promise you I'm going to make it right." He held her tight, and took him inside a large metal van. The shadowy figure laid her on a seat in the van, and nodded his head.
She couldn't tell who was driving the van, but he had a deep voice, "Sly, it says on the radio that that whole neighborhood was nothing but a nest of con artists and thieves."
"That's why we went there," the shadowy figure – Sly — said. "Unfortunately we got this poor child caught up in the mess." He looked down at her and smiled. "Don't worry; we're taking you to some place you won't suffer again."
Finally the van stopped, and Sly, a dashing raccoon, picked her up, and knocked on a large wooden door. When it opened, a large man wearing a brown robe opened and looked at the child.
"Could she stay here for a while?" he asked the other man. When he explained what had happened, the monk sighed and nodded his head.
Emma rested in the monk's arms, and he laid her near the statue of a beautiful young woman, looking down at a small child. "It's not much, but I hope this will be comfortable for you, child," he said with genuine warmth in his voice.
Emma smiled and felt warmer than ever before. She felt herself being wrapped in a bright light, and as she closed her eyes, she swore that the statue of the woman was looking at her, smiling gently.
When Sly and his friends came back a few hours later, with Carmelita in tow, they were shocked by the monk's odd words.
"She has found the ultimate peace," he said with a smile.
"I'm sorry?" Sly asked. Carmelita rushed into the abbey straight to the alter where a nativity scene was set up. She knelt next to the little girl, took her pulse and sighed.
"She died half an hour after you dropped her off," the monk said. He saw the sorrow in Sly's face and patted the younger man on the hand. "My boy, that poor child is no longer suffering, no longer looked down upon, and is no longer being treated like garbage. Whether you meant to or not, you did a good thing this night."
"A good thing?" Sly cried, frustration building.
"She was suffering long before you came into the neighborhood," the monk said. "What you did for her was to give her and the Lord the greatest of gifts this Christmas."
"What, gifts exactly did he give to them?" Carmelita snapped.
"Child, he gave that poor girl comfort and warmth when no body else would. He watched over her, so no criminal would do her harm, and he brought her home, to the Lord." He looked at Sly and winked. "So in fact, you gave her three gifts this night."
"And the gift he gave God?" Bentley asked.
"He brought to the Lord the innocent, a lost lamb given back to the great Shepherd, what greater gift, other than faith and love, could you give the Lord on His birthday?"
As they talked, none of them knew that Emma was looking down at them, smiling, warm in the arms of the Virgin Mary, laughing at the jokes and love of her son, Jesus. Her stomach would never again be hungry, her clothes dirty, or her body cold. She would be happy and at peace for eternity.
"Thank you Sly," she said.
Okay I know this is not an EXACT retelling of this story, but its close enough! So what did you all think? Did I do a good job? Oh how I hope so!
It will probably be submitted a little after Christmas Day, but I hope to have it in before the 6th of January, as that is one day after the Christmas season actually ends. December 25-January 5, the twelve days of Christmas, it was actually celebrated like that in medieval times, a tasty tidbit for you trivia fans.