The Little Match Girl
by Katie Brown
Her heart beat hard against her. It was bitterly cold and she had little left in the way of warmth. Save her matches.
Her grandmother had died some years before, she had only the memories of her words and smile. Staring in the window of where the others with money sat feasting, she tried to recall her.
Looking into the deep velvet, watching a star shower mark the imminent death, she took out her matches.
Next morning, when they found her amongst the ashes of the dead feasters she was warm and had eaten very well.
BIO: Katie Brown ** coming **