The Priestess of Darkness ✔~ trixya

Chapter 35: The Little Match Girl

Endless shelves of glowing books surrounded Trixie, some shining brightly and some barely shining at all. There was no way out and yet the young girl felt no fear, instead she felt oddly safe in the closed space.

Violet sat down on a chair, and without hesitation Trixie sat down in front of her on the floor, like an eager child. The demon, whom Trixie thought was a Goddess as Ezerishin had never told her differently, opened a storybook and started to read.

"It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets."

Trixie felt hypnotized by the woman's voice, as her mind was brought back to memories of walking home alone on cold nights, and she was reminded of the mistreatment she had faced from kids at school.

"In an old apron she carried several packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand. No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had given her a cent. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's eve. Yes, she thought of that!"

The brown eyed girl remembered that too, seeing everyone with their families during Christmas time and through the New Year celebration. She had rarely gotten to celebrate the holiday at all, most often finding herself alone staring up at the fireworks that would light up the sky on New Year's Eve, often pretending they were falling stars which she could wish upon. 

"In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street than the other, she sat down and drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and colder, but did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely beat her."

She remembered her second foster family then. The father of the family had taken out his rage on the young girl more times than she could count. She tried telling people, but no one would believe her. No would ever listen.

"Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. R-r-ratch! How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand." 

Trixie suddenly saw a strange glow in the corner of the room. It burned warmly like a fire, calling to her to come to it. The storyteller's voice rang in her ears but she was no longer looking at the demon, her complete attention on the glowing orb that was growing by the second.

"She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously, stuffed with apples and prunes."

The light grew further, and soon the wall was transparent just like in the story, the glowing light surrounding it like a portal. Through the thin remaining veil of the wall she could see her childhood home, the baby pink walls and the shelves of Barbie dolls of her old room.  

"Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick, cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much more beautiful than the one she had seen last Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant's home. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures like those in the printshops looked down at her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell down, forming a long line of fire.
- Now someone is dying, thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to God."

Trixie's mother had told her the same. Her mom would say that a falling star meant that a kind soul was dying, and in a last act of kindness they could grant someone's wish. The Christmas star, Trixie's mother had said, was particularly powerful, if only you gave it your heart.

"She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely.
- Grandmother! cried the child. - Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big Christmas tree!"

Out from the wall came a figure, a familiar face that Trixie had missed so dearly. There before her stood her mother, in all the glory of her youth. The woman held out her hand for her daughter, and when Trixie stood to take it, her soul turned back into that of a child, her body remaining on the floor behind her. The adult Trixie looked peacefully asleep as her soul stepped away.

"And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother with her. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight. Grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear - they were with God."

Trixie took her mother's hand and followed her through the glowing wall, back into her childhood home. She felt happier than she had in years as her mom wrapped her arms around her, pulling the young girl into a warm hug. The wall closed behind them, the portal gone as Violet remained in the hidden room of the library, looking down at the lifeless body of the young girl as she finished her story.

"But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.
- She wanted to warm herself, the people said. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New Year."

And with that, Violet contently closed the storybook as she felt her strength grow.