Matchsticks.

The delicate snowflakes landed, creating more soft snow that burried my feet. My feet are bare, blue and frozen. One of my slippers had fallen off, when i was rushing across the street, trying to advoide a horse a carraidge. I was unable too retreave it, as the carraidge had ran it over. my other slipper had seemed too of slipped off earlier.

My family are extreamly poor. Everyday my father sends me out to sell matches. I dislike my father, he beats me, if i don't sell enough matches.

Today i haven't sold any matches. It's Christmas Eve, i thought people might be a little more giving, all i need too do is sell a few matches, then i can go home, my father wouldn't be happy, at least he wouldn't beat me.

I wrap my warn shwal around my shoulders, trying to trap in more heat. The sky is getting darker, the wind stronger and the air colder. Most people are inside now, just a few men, hurring home to their families.

I sigh, i know i'm not going to sell any matches today, I don't want to go home, Father will beat me. I still have a few scars from my last beating, because I dropped half of my matchsticks. This man feel into me, he didn't even apologise. He just gave me a looks of disgust then walk off, like it was all my fault.

I can feel the soft snow, though the gaps in my frozen toes. I like snow, it's beautiful and pure, almost innocent looking. Reminds me of my younger sister, Victoria. She's too young to sell matches with me.

The bitter wind nips against my knuckles as grip tightly, around my apron, which holds the matches. If I were to let go of my apron, all the matches would fall. I consider doing this for a brith moment, but I might need the matches later. Or I could re-sell them?

The sky is now dark, I am alone in the snow covered, silent streets. The lights from the houses, shine onto the pale snow. I could see inside of some of the houses as I walk past them, most are filled with families singing, dancing and laughing. A few filled with men, just sat there; drinking away the pain of having no one on Christmas Eve.

A silhouette of a cat appears, his black body standing out, against the pale moonlight and the snow. I slowly walk towards the cat, leaving footsteps of my frozen feet, the footsteps soon disappeared under a blanket of fresh crisp snow.

The cat starts walking, leaving tiny paw prints in the soft snow. Once again, just like mine, his paw prints soon were buried under a sheet of fresh snow. I tried imitating how the cat walks, as I followed him. He walks gracefully, his paws barely touching the snow, yet making little prints in it. Walking on my toes hurt, I had to lower my heals back onto the snow. Feeling the snow, felt good against my heal for a few seconds.

The cat leads me into an ally, well not really an ally, but a small space between two houses. The cat sits down, it looks at me, like its trying to signal me to sit. I sit, leaning against one of brick walls of one of the houses. The moonlight didn't reach very much of this space, so it was quiet dark. I could see the cats eyes shinning, brightly.

"I'll call you Matchstrick." I whisper to him, my breath frozen in the air.

I realise I'm sat cross legged, my hands still gripping my apron. I drop my apron and rub my cold hands together. Warmth. The first piece of warmth I've felt all day.

I have an idea, I'll strike a match! I quickly reach into my lap, grabbing the first match I can find. Hurriedly, I scratched the match against the rough edge of the box. The match lit up, the fire that sprung up was the most beautiful thing i've ever seen. Arrays of red, orange and yellow dancing at the burning end of my match. I placed once hand just outside the glow of the fire, warming my hand. T

A bright light appeared, I look up and see a bright, warm -looking stove. The fire burning bright inside, was just as beautiful as the fire on my matchstick. Reds, oranges, yellows and the accessional blues. Danced back and fourth. Flickering, which looked like jumping, like the flames are trying to escape the prison of the stove. I outstretch my feet, placing my heals on the snow, warming the balls of my foot and my toes. The feeling of the warmth on my toes, it felt like I was standing on the warm carpet, in the fancy hotels, I've always dreamed of going into. I stretch out my hands, the palms of my hands, feeling the heat off the fire. Matchstick stretched out, his stomach pressed against the cold snow, his head and front paws embracing the warmth. For a few moments, we stay there, feeling the warm air.