My stepfather had thrown me out in the middle of the street. He had been getting more frustrated when my mother died. I never seen him cry as much as I did the night she died, it made me realize how much he really did love her though he never showed it. In his frustration, he told me it was my fault for letting her die. My fault. But I had known it wasn’t true, she died from a lost battle with pneumonia. Greg, my stepfather, had promised us before that he’d take care of us, and that if my mother would marry him, we wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

It seemed like a fairy tale when they got married. For a while we really didn’t have to worry about anything. Then my grandmother came to live with us. She was sick at the time, but we were soon able to revive her. Though we weren’t a middle class family, we were able to get what we needed, even with the four of us. But, fairy tales never really have a happy ending. I had to learn that the hard way. When Greg got laid off, we hoped and hoped that they’d call him back. We were wrong.

All of us ended up working because Greg’s new job wasn’t paying enough. I ended up having to sell matches to bring in my end of the stick. A blizzard came in this year, getting my grandmother sick again. No cure in the world could save her and she eventually died. Greg had a heart when he had a decent paying job. My mother went to him for comfort, but he turned a cold shoulder, putting all of his time and effort into getting more money. We both told him that even though we were poor, there was still something we were rich in: love. But he laughed at us. “What can love buy in this materialistic world? Without money, you’re nothing. And when you’re nothing, you’re better off dead,” he told us.

Mom got sick shortly after that. She didn’t die because of me. I had tried my best to bring in some sort of money for us. I was working at least three jobs. Because I wasn’t yet 16, I couldn’t do much of anything. But, mom didn’t just die of a virus. My mom died from a broken heart. It almost seemed like Greg had forgotten what love was until she died. So now, it was my fault. What a joke.

My feet were bare and the snow came up to the top of my ankles. I couldn’t see myself, but I had a feeling that the cold wind had turned my nose and cheeks rosy. I had only been out for a couple of minutes, and already I was starting to feel numb from the cold. Taking the bag of matches with me, I went to the little booth where I always sat, right in the middle of the shopping district.

Nobody noticed me that day. It was a couple of days before Christmas and everyone was trying to finish their holiday shopping. The wind had started to pick up, and now I was more aware of my breath in the cold. I shivered, and took my hands and tried to warm up my arms. I winced suddenly, forgetting the fresh bruises Greg had given me. Since my mom died, he’s been letting out his frustrations on me. I’ve become his human punching bag, not to mention I seem to be doing everything wrong. Whatever happened to the sweet Greg I once knew that was going to protect me from every demon in this world? I suppose he was showing his real face now.

“Box of matches for $2!” I cried. The wind must have carried my voice to a far away land because nobody even acknowledged that someone had yelled. It didn’t matter though, I had other things to sell besides matches. Greg recently got a part time job as a baker, and every now and then he’d bring home a huge box of cookies and mini cakes. He told me once before to never eat any of it because he put me in charge of selling them on the streets. I thought I could get away with it, but Greg had found out and gave me the beating of a lifetime.

I had decided earlier to buy some tins to put the cookies and mini cakes in. It took a while to earn, but when I found some on sale, I bought them immediately. People seem to notice things more if it’s in something pretty. I sifted through my bag of matches, and finally found the tins. I set them out, and with my numb hand, grabbed the sign that advertised I was selling cookies and set it out on the booth. I then placed the tins on the booth in a caring fashion, trying my hardest to imitate the surrounding display windows.

This imitation gave way to a few acknowledgments but still nobody bought any. I truly wanted to light a match and burn something to get warm. My thin sweater wasn’t insulating me any and my whole body had turned numb by that time. I didn’t know what to do. If I lit a match now, it’d mean getting beat later. But was it my destiny to freeze to death?

The decision was a tough call. I couldn’t, no I wouldn’t, leave without having at least one dollar to show for my hard work. If I went home with nothing, I was almost positive that Greg would be so infuriated with me, he may almost kill me. That was a scenario I wanted to avoid at all costs. There just had to be someone who needed matches or cookies, wasn’t there?

The day wore on, and the district started to thin out more and more. Nobody had bought anything off of me. They say the Christmas season is supposed to bring out the good in people. Well, all I see is the bad. They yell and scream, and mothers turn into hideous beasts, all lined up in front of stores in the wee hours of the morning when it’s still dark trying to be the first to get to the sale. There wasn’t a soul out there that even took a look at people like me, people who may need some sort of help. Sure, we have holiday baskets and the Salvation Army will do something for us, but is it really from the goodness of the people’s hearts, or is it just out of tradition and a good reputation? It’s hard these days to tell which people are pure of their intentions and which aren’t anymore.

Snow started to fall lightly and gradually fell harder and harder. It chilled me even more when the first flake fell on my already numb nose. I didn’t realize it was snowing until I woke up from my daydream state. A Christmas like the ones that they show in the TV shows I saw in the electronics display window would be great. Everyone greeting each other, hugging, and helping. That’s the kind of Christmas I wanted. But, what I really wanted was for my family to be a family again. Greg when he was carefree, my mom, and my grandma. We’d be laughing and singing, and nothing, not even the cold, would break our spirit.

Of all times for a blizzard to start, it had to start now. I tried so hard to not light a match, but I just couldn’t help it. Greg would have called me weak. With a trembling hand, I lit a match. It’s warmth quickly enveloped me, and I suddenly felt another source of heat from behind me. I looked and there was a fireplace with a big green chair that looked like it would engulf me if I sat in it. As I started to wonder where it came from, the sudden gust of wind blew out my match and with it, the fireplace.

With it gone, I suddenly felt delirious. Maybe I had been in the cold for too long and was now starting to see things. It could have been possible, I was never informed of my family’s past medical history. But, I suddenly longed for that fireplace. Before I knew it, the matches had become a drug to me, and I kept lighting them, one by one.

With each new match that I lit, new visions came before me: a feast, a Christmas tree, presents, and a bed that looked like it was bigger than the little house me and Greg were staying in.

I suddenly grew tired and fell onto the bed. In an instant, everything turned to black.

* * *

The smell of bacon and eggs woke me up when I finally came to again. I sat up and a large blanket fell off of me. Surprised, I looked at my surroundings. Maybe those matches were magic matches and transported me to some far away place. The door knocked. “Come in,” I answered awkwardly.

A beautiful girl came in. She had golden hair that was curled at the ends, like a doll. Her smile was delicate and well practiced along with her curtsy. “Feeling better?” she asked. It took me a minute to get out of my head that this girl really was a doll. The girl’s voice was just as sweet as she looked.

“Y-Yeah,” I managed to stammer after getting over my immediate shock. “Where am I?”

She stifled a giggle. “My house.” So this huge mansion of a room was part of her house. I quickly inferred that the rest of the house had to be full of rooms like this, meaning I was in the home of someone who’s world was his oyster. The girl clapped her hands and in an instant a butler appeared with a breakfast tray. I noted that there was indeed bacon and eggs on there and even blueberry pancakes. “After you’re done eating, we’ll take you home. We were trying to find an ID on you, but it seems you had none. I’m sure your parents are worried.”

I froze for a second. The girl really seemed to be genuine of her feelings. After all, she could have just left me out there in the cold and let me die. “Not parents, parent,” I corrected gently. “Stepfather to be exact,” I added bitterly. The girl must not have heard the bitterness in my voice because she didn’t seem concerned, or maybe she decided to brush it off. Either way she apologized for her own assumption.

“I have something for you!” the girl chirped. She whisked away leaving me with the butler. I said nothing, eating quietly. It’s hard to control yourself when you’ve been deprived of food, or at least home cooked food, for so long. I wanted to act like one of those beggars that gulped all of their food in one bite. Though I was fairly close to being one of those beggars, I still controlled myself because I was in the presence of first class.

The girl returned with a nice size box. There was shiny red wrapping paper covering it with a lush green ribbon. She almost seemed like she was glowing when she handed it to me, so proud that she was giving me something. I took it graciously and carefully opened it. The wrapping paper was so pretty that I was disappointed when I had to tear it. Inside was a delicately knit blue sweater. The girl didn’t know it, but blue was my favorite color. “But, you don’t even know me. Why?” I asked.

“Sara, is that reason enough to not get you something?” she asked.

I took my hand and felt the soft fabric of the sweater. It took me a minute to register that she had called my name. “How did you know my name? I don’t know you.”

“My mom’s an angel.” she simply said before kissing me lightly on the forehead. “Nothing but good will come to you on behalf of your mom and grandmother’s wishes.”

I didn’t know what to say or do. In the split second that it took to blink my eyes, I found myself lying in the snow by my booth. I heaved myself up and found that I was wearing the blue sweater that the little girl had given me. Tears formed in my eyes, and people stared at me as I started to cry.

“Sara! Sara!” a familiar voice called. I looked in the direction of the voice and Greg came running over to me. A flicker of fear swept through my body as I thought of him beating me again, but instead he came over and wrapped me in a warm embrace. “I thought I lost you…” he said. It was at that moment that I realized the pain and fear that I had lived through for the past few months were over. Something had happened and now everything was for the best now. I had guardian angels watching over me. Up there, in heaven. This Christmas Eve was going to be the best day I’ve had for a long while, and Christmas even better.

As I look back at that time in my life, I realize now that each day was better than the last. If there’s something that I learned on that day, it’s that fairy tales do have happy endings. I’m sure of it now. No, I’m positive.