Hi. I know, this isn't a carol, but I got a lightning bolt of inspiration and ideas when I saw this! So... Here's the Little Match Seller, my last Christmas story of the year! -sniff-
It was dreadfully cold and nearly dark on the last night of the year, and the snow was falling fast. Passing underneath the street lights, a young boy walked slowly, with bare hands and feet, down the path and toward the busier part of town. It's true he had a pair of gloves and slippers when he left home, but neither were of much use to hide his Automail arm and leg. The slippers were large, so large, because they belonged to his father and the poor creature lost them running across a street to avoid a car that was coming at a terrible rate. One of the slippers, he couldn't find and a stray dog seized upon the other, using it as a chew-toy. He got his gloves wet, trying to reach a gold coin in a drain but kept them on, until his hands got so numb with cold, he took them off and left them. So the little boy went on, with his naked hands and feet, which were quite blue and red from the cold. In a stolen basket, he carried a number of matches and held a bundle in his hands. No one had bought any all day, and no one could spare him a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, he crept along, looking the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on his long, blonde hair that hung in slight curls at his shoulders, but he regarded them not.
The young boy, Edward, looked though some of the lower windows of the houses he passed. Lights were shinning from every one, and the savoury smell of roasted goose drifted from them, for it was New Years Eve – yes, he remembered that. He saw a man with jet black hair walking towards him with shopping bags in his hands and dressed in a blue uniform.
"Hello, sir. Would you like to buy some matches?" Edward asked as the man passed by.
"Umm…" The man started, looking into Edward's pleading eyes.
"Sure, I'd love to. How much are they?" The man said, putting his bags down and reaching into his pocket.
"It's 10 for twenty matches or 15 for forty matches." He replied, happy that someone was going to buy his matches.
The black haired man pulled out his wallet and looked for his money, but there was none.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't any money." He apologised, putting his wallet in one of the bags and retrieving something else.
Edward smiled in awe as the man held a silver pocket watch by the chain. It glistened as it spun, the light shinning over an insignia where a dragon wrapped itself around a wreath.
"You can have this though. I was off to give this to a new State Alchemist, but I can get another." He said, handing Edward the watch.
He smiled as Edward looked the watch over, taking in every detail before opening the watch cover and closing it again.
"Thank you, sir!" Edward said, shoving the watch in the pocket of his loose red coat.
"Happy New Years." Roy said, waving as he walked away.
Edward waved back as he ran down the path, nearly bumping into a few people.
As he came to a halt, he noticed two buildings that were quite close to each other, one with a silhouette in the window. In a corner, he sank down and huddled himself together. He drew his feet under him, but he could not keep out the cold; and he dared not go home, for he sold no matches and couldn't take home even a penny of money, and he wouldn't give his new watch to his father, because he would just sell it. His father would certainly beat him, even though he could defend himself and his brother, Alphonse, but he had nowhere else to go; besides, it was almost as cold at home as it was there, for they only had a roof to cover them, in which the wind howled through holes, though the biggest ones were stopped up with hay and rags. His hand was cold as ice, while his Automail ports ached from the cold.
"Perhaps burning a match would do some good. If I just draw one from the bundle and light it, I could warm my fingers." Edward said, taking a match from the basket.
He lifted up the sleeve on his metal arm and struck the match against it. Oh, how it spluttered as it burnt! It gave off a light like a candle would, as he put his hand over it. It was a wonderful light. It seemed, to the boy, that he was sitting by a large old-fashioned stove, with polished brass feet and a brass ornament. As the fire in the oven burnt, the warmth was so good, Edward stretched out his feet as if to warm them. Then, as quickly as it lit, the match died out. The stove vanished, and he was left with a half-burnt match in his Automail hand.
He took another match and rubbed it across his Automail. It burst in to flame and where the light shone on the wall, became as clear as glass, and he could see into the room across from where he sat. The large table that was closest to him was covered with a green and red tablecloth and housed a delicious Christmas feast, including a steaming stuffed goose. A man with black hair came around the corner from the kitchen with a glass of brandy, and noticed him sitting there.
"Hello there, Edward. Would you like some dinner?" The man asked, taking some things from the table and piling them on a small plate.
Edward nodded enthusiastically as the man crouched beside him.
"By the way, my name's Roy Mustang." Roy said, putting the plate in front of Edward.
He was about to dig in to it, when the match went out, and there remained nothing but the cold, damp wall before him.
He lighted another match, and found himself sitting under a beautiful Christmas tree, much grander and more beautifully decorated than ones he'd seen in windows of rich merchants. Thousands of tapers were burning on the green branches, and coloured pictures, like ones he had seen in shop windows, looked down upon them. Edward stretched out his hand towards them, when the match went out.
The Christmas lights around him were brighter than anything else was. He saw the light from them went higher and higher, until they looked like the stars in the sky to him. Suddenly, a star started falling, leaving a streak of fire behind it across the sky.
"Someone must be dying…" Edward mumbled, remembering that his mother, the only one that truly loved him, and was now dead, had told him that a star falls when a soul goes to heaven.
He took the State Alchemist's watch from his pocket and held it tightly as he rubbed yet another match on his arm and the light shone around him, blocking out all other noises and distractions. In the light, stood his mother before a large black gate. Her brown hair flowed around her shoulders and her face was soft and loving.
"Mum! Take me with you, for I know that you'll leave when my match burns out." Edward pleaded, holding the watch tighter, "You'll disappear like the stove, the Christmas tree and Roy!"
He made no haste to light all of his matches one by one, wanting to keep his mother with him. The light the matches gave off was brighter that the midday sun and his mother never appeared more lovely or beautiful. His mother held out her hands, beckoning him to come with her. Edward stood and took his mothers hand, walking into the Gate, where he knew there would be no cold, pain or sorrow.
In the morning, Roy found Edward's 13-year-old body huddled in the corner of the two buildings, his face pale, yet happy. He froze to death on New Year's Eve and the New Year's sun rose and shone upon the frozen corpse! Edward still sat, motionless, holding his matches in his hand, one bundle of which had been burnt. He also held the watch that Roy gave him, tightly to his chest.
"He must've tried to warm himself. Poor child…" Roy mumbled, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest.
No one imagined what beautiful things he saw or where he entered with his mother, on New Year's Day.
Edward awoke to find himself in the middle of a strange place. He slowly stood, as he looked at the buildings around him, which looked nothing like the ones where he sat before he blacked out.
"Am I still in Amestris…?" Edward thought as he looked down at himself.
He saw that he was wearing a dark brown overcoat with white gloves. Underneath, he wore a lighter brown vest with a white, high collared shirt under that with brown slacks. He also noticed that his hair was tied into a high ponytail.
"What the…" He said in disbelief, looking around at the people, before spotting a sign.
Welcome to Munich, Germany.
Hooray for screwing with the plot-line! I wanted to make Ed 16 or 18 or something, but that'd screw up the actual story... Oh well!
Well, Merry Christmas! Have a great holidays!