16 September 2012
Her feet were bare and freezing, but she couldn't go home yet. Not with her hads empty, no, Father wouldn't like that. He'd beat her again, and she didn't want to be beaten. Her scarred back still hurt from last time, her eye was still black. Se had nasty, green splotches om the side of her face, healing bruises. Father was mean, so, so mean, sometimes. Especially when it was cold. Especially when he'd been drinking, because that always reminded him of her Mother... He said she reminded him of Her. That's why he was always so sad. So she hugged her rags to her body and curled her toes against the wind.
"Buy a match, sir?"
The man didn't so much as acknowledge her as he strutted past in his big fancy coat, which looked warm, she thought. She put the packet of matches back in her pocket.
The street was empty, everyone was home, eating dinner by the fire. Her stomach growled in protest, but she pushed the thought aside. She couldn't eat until she sold every match. If she didn't she wouldn't be allowed to go in.
Snow was falling gently, collecting on the floor next to her feet. She pulled on her dress and stepped on the edges to warm them a little. It didn't help.
A person passed by. She noticed how the snow crunched beneath his boots, which looked warm. She blew on her hands to warm them. How she longed to light a match, to feel warm, even if only for a little bit. She snuggled deeper into the stone wall. But Father counted every single one she didn't sell. If she used one he would notice, and that would make him... Mad.
A gust of brisk wind bit at her exposed skin, sending shivers down her spine and numb fingers. Her head was beginning to feel light, she was starting to feel very sleepy.
But she couldn't sleep, not yet. Not until every match had been sold.
"Here."
The feel of something smooth and cold against her skin made her start, and she bolted up to find a coin on the snow. A coin... A real coin! Just for her!
She grabbed it, felt it. It wasn't just a coin, it was a shilling! She felt her eyes go wide. Father would be so proud of her, and she didn't even have to sell any...
...
She stuffed her hand in the match's pocket, closing her fingers around it. Father wouldn't notice...
Before she could think it over the pack was out, on her hands, and open. She took one single match, her heart beating with joy, and carefully turned the package over to the rough strip on one edge. With a sharp, firm, movement the match suddenly roared to life, burning a beautiful yellow against the white. The shimmering treasure glistened in her eyes and a smile slithered to her lips as she brought the fire closer to her, rapturing in the warm feeling of the tiny flame. It was like a small flicker of sunshine and hope, of something good she didn't want to let go of.
She closed her eyes, trying to make the moment last longer...
And suddenly it was out, with a sizzle and a line of black smoke that burned her eyes, and the dark sweeped in. The cold immediately returned to her flushed face, hard and bitter and bristling.
She felt like crying. Her moment of peace, her little piece of heaven, had turned to soot. She threw the burned match on the ground.
Maybe... Just another wouldn't hurt... Perhaps someone would throw her another shilling, and Father wouldn't notice. Yes, perhaps...
She fumbled inside her pocket for the pack, her hands trembling with anticipation. She felt a bit dizzy, trance-like. Her vision was blurring, but she managed to open the pack and take out another match. Her face brightened at the sight. Her hands were trembling, shaking with the blistering cold, and suddenly, accidentally, she... Dropped...
She stared unbelievingly at the match on the floor. It was ruined. A wet match couldn't light up. She'd screwed up— now she wouldn't have a match to light, no warm tenderness caressing her face.
A dark, desspressive feeling loomed over her at the sight. Her shoulders shook, her tiny sobs drowned out by the sounds of the night. Tears welled from her eyes, falling to the ground, next to her feet. She sobbed, and sobbed, her sorrow melting away into the darkness around her.
Yet... Gradually, as she cried, she began feeling warmth grow inside of her, spreading to her arms, her legs, her toes. She felt light, and the sobbing stopped. The snow-covered street melted away, like a dark watercolour washing itself, giving way to a warmer place, a happier place.
"Mom!" she screamed, running to her arms, tears still swelling in her eyes as she covered her with her warm embrace.
"Don't cry, sweetie," she said tenderly, stroking her hair. She lifted her chin, looking into her eyes lovingly.
She sniffed back a tear. "Take me away, Mom."
She smiled, a warm, tiny flicker of sunshine abd hope, and took her hand.
"Let's go..."
———————————————— It's not as well-written as I'd like, and it's a bit long, so sorry about that, @MelchiorJ13. I just COULDN'T think of a poem to go with your word! So here you have it. Enjoy, tell me what you think;)
Matches • Opuss № I