The Little Match Girl - Bedtime Stories + Audio
It was a cold New Year’s Eve, and snow was falling. A young girl, selling matches, trudged through the icy streets, her voice echoing through the quiet:
“Matches! Matches! Please buy my matches!”
Moonzia’s Alert: This is a fairy tale containing some sensitive concepts including death and poverty. If you think that your beloved child is not ready to become familiar with these particular concepts, drop this story and chose another one from Moonzia’s library.
But no one paid her any attention. People rushed past her, oblivious to her plight. In the distance, a woman approached. The girl ran towards her, pleading, “Ma’am, please buy a match from me!”
The woman replied coldly, “I don’t need any matches. I have plenty at home.”
Also See the Story: The Snow Queen
The snow fell faster, and the girl shivered uncontrollably. “It’s so cold,” she muttered to herself. “I have to go home. But no, I can’t. If I don’t sell these matches, my father will beat me.”
She paused, cupping her frozen hands to her mouth and blowing on them to warm them up. Then, she resumed her plea, “Matches! Matches! Please buy my matches!”
But no one came. No one bought a single match.
The girl’s stomach rumbled with hunger. She hadn’t eaten since morning. Her heart ached with emptiness. The enticing smell of food wafted from a nearby house.
“Oh, how delicious that smells!” she thought. “I’m so hungry. I must sell these matches and go home. If I don’t hurry, everyone will be inside.”
She quickened her pace and called out louder, “Matches! Matches! I have matches!”
Just as she was about to cross the street, she heard the sound of hooves. A horse-drawn carriage was rushing towards her. Startled, the girl jumped out of the way, but her wooden shoes slipped off, and she fell into the snow.
“Oh no, my wooden shoes!” she cried, a pang of sadness shooting through her. “They were a gift from my dear mother. Where did they go? How will I find them?”
The girl brushed the snow away with her freezing hands, searching for her shoes. Her eyes landed on the other side of the street, where one of her shoes lay buried in the snow.
“There it is!” she exclaimed, overjoyed. She rushed across the street, but as she reached for the shoe, a mischievous child snatched it up.
“Look what I found!” the child sneered. “When I grow up, I’ll use it as a cradle for my baby!”
The boy ran away, leaving the girl barefoot in the cold, snowy street. The snow fell heavily, coating her hair in a layer of white. The streets were deserted; everyone had gone home.
Warm light spilled from the windows of houses, and the laughter of children filled the air as they eagerly awaited their mother’s cooking.
The match girl sighed, “How happy they are. I used to be happy too, when my mother was alive.”
Her legs ached with cold. She wanted to go home, but she hadn’t sold a single match. Unable to take another step, she sat down under the porch of a house, trying to warm her hands and feet with her breath. But it was futile.
“I’m so cold,” she whispered to herself. “I’ll light a match. Maybe it will warm me up a bit.”
She struck a match against the wall. A small flame flickered to life, and a warm, glowing heater appeared before her. “Oh, how wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Now I can warm myself.”
But as soon as she reached out to warm herself, the flame flickered and died, leaving only a burnt matchstick in her hand. Undeterred, she struck another match. This time, she saw a feast spread out before her: a table laden with delicious food.
“Oh, how wonderful!” she exclaimed.
The dish was filled with plump plums, juicy apples, and a roasted goose, its golden skin glistening with fat. The girl’s eyes widened with hunger and longing. Suddenly, the goose sprang to life, a knife and fork still embedded in its back. The girl reached out to grab it, but the match flickered and died, and the vision vanished.
In its place, she saw only the cold, bare wall. Desperate, she lit a third match. The flame danced, and a magnificent Christmas tree appeared, adorned with sparkling lights. The girl’s eyes lit up with joy. “Oh, what a beautiful tree! It’s even more beautiful than the rich people’s trees!”
The girl reached out towards the tree, but the flame flickered and died, and the tree vanished. Only a single candle flame remained, rising higher and higher until it transformed into a star and soared into the sky. It was as if a celestial Christmas tree had been painted across the heavens.
The girl gazed up in wonder. “How beautiful,” she murmured.
Suddenly, a star detached itself from the constellation and plummeted towards the Earth. “Someone is dying tonight,” she whispered to herself.
She remembered her grandmother’s words: “When a star falls, it means someone is dying and their soul is going to God.”
A tear rolled down her cheek as she thought of her kind grandmother.
“I miss you so much, Grandma,” she whispered.
She lit the fourth match, and in the flickering flame, she saw her grandmother’s smiling face.
“Grandma!” she cried, rushing into her embrace.
Her grandmother hugged her warmly and kissed her forehead. The little girl poured out her heart, telling her grandmother about her hardships and loneliness. Tears welled up in her eyes as she pleaded,
“Please, Grandma, don’t leave me. I know when the match goes out, you’ll disappear like the stove, the goose, and the Christmas tree.”
As she spoke, the flame flickered and died, and her grandmother’s face faded into darkness.
“No, Grandma, please don’t go!” she cried. “I don’t want to be alone!”
Desperate, she struck all the remaining matches, filling the room with light. In the glow of the flames, her grandmother’s face reappeared. “My dear child,” she said gently, “don’t be afraid.”
A radiant path opened in the dark sky. “Where are we going, Grandma?” the girl asked.
“We’re going to heaven, my darling,” her grandmother replied. “Heaven is a beautiful place, filled with flowers and delicious food. Your mother is there, waiting for you. The three of you will be together forever. Your suffering is over, my child.”
And with that, the girl and her grandmother ascended into the heavenly light.
The girl’s heart swelled with joy. A feeling of pure happiness washed over her. Slowly, she closed her eyes and drifted away.
The girl had ascended to heaven, becoming a star in the night sky. As the new day dawned, the church bells rang, heralding the start of a new year. People walking through the streets discovered the girl’s lifeless body. Her skin was pale and cold. A doctor was summoned, but it was too late. The girl had passed away hours ago.
Her lips were red and curved into a peaceful smile, as if she were simply asleep. In her tiny hands, a bundle of burnt matches lay. A passerby remarked, “Poor child. She tried to warm herself with matches.”
Tears welled up in the eyes of the crowd. A woman’s voice, filled with sorrow, cried out, “Oh, I’m so sorry! If only I had bought a match from her last night, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Others, who had also seen the girl the previous night, felt a pang of guilt. They had ignored her pleas, and now it was too late.
The girl’s body was carried to the church, where people prayed for her soul. Little did they know the extraordinary visions she had witnessed in the flames of the matches. She had seen heavenly feasts and beautiful Christmas trees.
She had been reunited with her beloved mother and grandmother, and together, they celebrated the New Year in the celestial realm. Perhaps, if one listened closely, they might hear the echoes of her laughter, a testament to the joy she had found in her final moments.
Kidsstorybird
Disclaimer: This story is auto-aggregated by a computer program and has not been created or edited by Kidsstorybird.