The Grimm Diaries Prequels Volume 11- 14: Children of Hamlin, Jar of Hearts, Tooth & Nail & Fairy Tale, Ember in the Wind, Welcome to Sorrow, and Happy Valentine's Slay. (15 page)

“Mister, please?” I pulled an old man by his coat. He was angry and looked down upon me, with an evil disgust on his face as if I were a rat.

“What the bloody hell do you want from me?” he slapped my hand away.

“I have nowhere to go,” I pleaded. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“And what do you expect me to do about it?” he grumbled. “Go find a job instead of bothering people, asking them for money.”

“I didn’t ask for money,” I explained. “I just…” I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I really wanted. All I knew was that I was alone and helpless, so I walked away, trying to find my way through the crowd.

Lost in the city, I ended up sleeping on the streets the first night.

My stubbornness stopped me from going back to my cruel mother and horrid sisters. I wasn’t going to apologize and be humiliated again.

There were so many poor people sleeping out in the cold, but none of them allowed me to sleep where they did, which was only a flattened cardboard on the pavement. It wasn’t hard finding one and doing like they did, and it wasn’t much different from where I slept back in the house, only colder.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I was really hungry, and the second night was even colder.

Asking people to help me wasn’t working, and again I prided myself against going back and asking my abusive
mother
to forgive me. What was I going back for, pain and punishment with more matches?

Wait!

Matches. I had an idea. I could sell matches. I had a large box, and I could make some money so I wouldn’t starve.

“Matches! Matches! Who wants matches?” I started yelling, running through the cold and snowy streets. A happy feeling surged through my soul. If I could only sell a couple of matches, I could get something to eat to warm my cold body.

I tried this man, this woman, and that couple, but no one wanted to buy matches, as if it wasn’t freezing cold.

“Please, Please,” I tiptoed, afraid that I was too short for them to see me. “Buy some matches from me, they will keep you warm.”

“What do you mean warm?” an old, ugly woman bent down, staring at me from behind thick glasses. “It’s freezing here, child. Your matches won’t do. They will die as soon as they flicker.”

“No, no,” I said, chasing her as she walked away. “They are good. They are great matches.”

The lady stopped and glared at me. It was the look elders gave you when they were angry; an insinuating look that made you feel so guilty you wanted to disappear.

I walked away from her and tried to sell the matches elsewhere until I came upon an old, tall but slouching man, walking alone, and counting some coins in his hands. I hoped maybe he wouldn’t mind giving me one if I offered him a match.

Some younger boy called him Mr. Scrooge; Ebenezer Scrooge. The boy whispered something in his ear but then Ebenezer shushed him away and the boy ran.

His behavior toward the boy wasn’t very encouraging but I gave approaching him a shot anyway.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” I said politely. I thought that mentioning Christmas would melt his heart.

“Merry Christmas?” he grinned at me. “What right do you have to be merry, you little lost match girl?”

“It’s Christmas. We all should be happy,” I brought myself to a smile although it wasn’t a merry Christmas indeed.

“What reason do you have to be merry? You’re poor. Someone probably threw you out tonight, and you’re trying to sell me your useless matches. Go away, fool someone else.”

“But Mr—“                                                                         

“Go!” he waved his hands at me and a coin fell to the ground. It seemed to anger him greatly.

Immediately, he started cursing his luck and all the children in the world, and knelt down to look for his coin in the snow.

“Damn you, little girl,” he kept saying.

I felt guilty, and knelt next to him, trying to find it.

“Go away,” he yelled.

“I am trying to find it with you, sir.”

Brushing the snow away, I finally found the shining coin and held it in my hand. I could imagine the things I could buy with it tonight. I could have food and maybe pay for a place to stay.

But before my dream came true, Ebenezer Scrooge snatched it out of my hand.

“It’s not for you. It’s mine,” he said and stood up. “Now, go away.”

“But I found it for you,” I pleaded. “Don’t you think you can buy a match from me? Just one?”

“And what would I benefit from that, little match girl,” he sneered at me. “Would it make me merry?”

“Wouldn’t helping a poor little girl like me make you merry?” I said.

Ebenezer Scrooge laughed at me and walked away.

While still on my knees, and people almost stepping over me, a man in a delicate pink outfit reached out his hand.

He wore a tall hat, a pocket watch, and had long blonde hair. I was very grateful as he helped brush the snow away from my face.

“Poor little child,” he said behind his black glasses. “People are very cruel to you.”

“They are,” I nodded. “But thank you, sir. You have been very kind.”

“Oh, please. Don’t mention it,” he said. “I would do anything to help a poor soul.”

“Would you help me, sir?” I said.

“It depends on what you’re willing to pay,” he said. “Everything comes with a price.”

“I have nothing but these matches,” I said, showing him the box.

“Beautiful matches,” he looked at the box. “I always liked to play with them when I was young. They make incredible and lovely fire. I love fire.”

“So would you buy some from me?” I said.

“I am afraid I have a lot of those, child,” he said. “I wouldn’t be interested in them, but I might be interested in something else that you have.”

“And what would that be, Sir?” I never knew I had something interesting to offer.

“It’s your lovely little soul,” he said, rubbing his hands.

“What is a soul?” I asked.

“Oh,” he rubbed his chin. “That’s definitely an important question, but I am afraid I don’t have an answer. Nobody really has.”

“Then how can I sell it to you if I don’t know what it is?” I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to sell something that I knew nothing about.

“Hmm…” he considered. ”I guess you’re still too young to understand. And you’re not desperate enough to need me, yet. You’re too pure of heart to think of asking for my help.”

“Excuse me? I don’t follow.” I blinked.

“Let’s forget about what I have just told you,” he waved his gloved hands in the air. “Instead, I will tell you how you can sell the matches, because you were doing it all wrong.”

“Please sir, do. I’d be most thankful.”

“You’re asking people to buy matches without demonstrating them. A customer needs to be seduced and lulled into buying something. For instance, if you do a happy dance that is funny enough, it will draw attention and people will want to see more of it.”

“I can dance,” I said with happy eyes. “I can do that.”

“But it wouldn’t be enough,” the man put a finger on his mouth. “I’d say the best way to make people want to buy the matches is to demonstrate what they can do. Light up a match while you’re walking here and there. If it flickers away, light up another, and so on. When they see you’re so happy with your finely lit matches they will envy you and start buying from you.”

“Are you sure?”

“So sure that I am proud of myself,” he smiled.

“Thank you, Sir,” I said. “I wasn’t sure about you at first, but you turned out to be a nice man. All those other cold hearted people act as if they are possessed by the devil.”

“Bad devil,” the man smirked. “And speaking of the devil, I must go, my dear. We’ll meet again, I am sure.”

As the man left I started lighting up match after match and yelling that I was selling matches. I was happy that someone had finally told me the secret of selling them. Soon, I’d be able to quench my hunger and I wouldn’t be cold anymore.

Only later, when I was older, did I understand that the man that offered to help me that night must have been the devil himself. He fooled me into lighting and wasting the matches in the wind so I’d become desperate, giving him the opportunity to find me later and bargain for my soul.

Match after match, I wasted what was in the box until I had only three matches left. No one bought even one, and the dead matches lay in the snow all over the city, evidence of my naivety and foolishness.

I wanted to punish myself. If I never wanted to return to my adopted family’s house, I had to learn to be smarter and that people weren’t good by default. I had to become strong enough to live on my own and survive the streets.

I decided the city wasn’t for me and walked to the darker alleys nearby. Even if it was scarier and colder there, they were void of coldhearted people.

In the alley, there was a poor man who asked me for my coat. He said he’d been there for years and couldn’t survive the cold anymore, and that I was younger and should help him.

Against my better judgment, I found myself giving him my coat.

A little further down the alley, a young poor boy asked me for my shoes. Although I needed them as much as him, I agreed to give them away. When I looked at his feet they were like cracked, frozen glass from walking on snow. I thought my socks would somehow keep me warm.

Frankly, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was desperate and didn’t see a point in trying to survive. All I could think of was that I had three matches left, and if I was smart, I’d be able to use them wisely. If only I knew how.

When I got tired and realized that giving my shoes and coat away was a mistake, I looked in the garbage for something to keep me warm. I found something strange in the garbage that day. It was a shredded coat made of something that looked like feathers. If these were real feathers, then it must have been a large bird.

Stop your hallucinations. It’s just a coat that looks like feathers. Grab it and put it on you so you can survive the cold of the night.

My strength had weakened tremendously by this point so I sat down in a narrow alley.

I pulled my thin and feathery coat around me, my teeth chattering in the cold and the wind blinding my eyes. I let the air in through my nose and breathed out through my mouth, slowly, repeatedly, still hanging onto the frail ropes of hope.

Was I just going to die like this?

I was only fourteen, and even if I had been born unlucky, there were things I thought I’d be able to experience one day, like a first kiss, for instance.

It didn’t matter what that kiss would lead to, and I didn’t even know who I would be kissing. What mattered was that I couldn’t imagine a visit from death before I kissed someone; it felt like it was almost a human right to do so, like the right to live. No one should die before a first kiss.