Why can't I at least be a side-kick if I'm going into my own novel.

A Little Match Girl

Umm...why is it so cold?

Maybe I should turn down the air-con?

But my eyes wouldn't open. It feels like my eyelids are glued together somehow. I try rolling my eyes underneath for a while and it works.

However, what I see after opening my eyes are even more confusing. It isn't my comfortable room but somewhere in the middle of the road. The sky is dark and people in coats are walking like big lump of shadows.

And it is understandable. Since everywhere is full of snow. Even the brown brick road is buried deep that the whole ground turns white. 

I spring up in haste at the though. Because, I am also lying on this freezing floor.

What happened?

My hands are frozen like ice and unable to move. I rub them on my chest to make it warm. But it seems as if...they are...smaller?

I close my eyes and shake my head again. Maybe I am still dizzy and tired from too much work. Or maybe I am dreaming?

Yes, that must be it. Then that would explain why I am in the middle of the snowy road out of nowhere, among people whose appearances are like those from the west, and they are dressed in vintage clothing.

I slowly let out my breath to clam down, pinch on my arm strongly once when taking in the air once again. And, yes, it kind of hurts. It must be because the cold makes my skin numb. I should do something that create more pain. 

I look at the closest wall,  thought about banging my head against it. But as a cute, red-cheek girl is looking at me, I gawked back at her, confusing. I smile and she  smiles. I raise my right brow, she does the same. And when I clap my face, so does she.

Umm... This doesn't look so good. Don't tell me that's me? But that's not me! My hair is black and I am twenty four years old! I am not that little kid with high nose, red cheeks, and brown hair!

I look down at myself and feel as if I have just emerged from a drainage somewhere. All the clothes on me are ragged and super dirty that I can no longer make out the original color. My freakishlythin arms are also coated with so much grime that I thought they are sleeves at first. On the ground is a basket, used matches are scattered around. I pick up the basket and there are still many unused matches in there.

This doesn't so good at all. I don't want to jump to the conclusion too fast, but all these things could only make me think of one thing. That I am a little match girl...

...who has just died!

Oh my god! No! Why the little match girl?! I have never liked the story or having any special connection with it. Why?

The ringing of a bell and an announcement from a man take my attention. "Happy new year Pyrisburgh!"

Oh, I see. It is new year that's why it's so cold...wait,

Wait...

Did he just say...

Pyrisburgh?

It was Pyrisburgh, right?

Ah! Suddenly a stream of memory flows into my head. It is the memory of this girl. Her name is Arrin and then...nothing much...

...like nothing at all. Only the name and that she has to sell matches for a living! She's super poor!

God...what's this? How could I become a match seller in Pyris...

"Haha." I kind of laugh out. Yes, Pyrisburgh. A dream or not, if this place is really Pyrisburgh, isn't it good for me? Since I'm in my own novel, I can experience things first hand. This is awesome!