The Royal Match-Sellers 

Hans Christian Andersen version

I could see the end of the road… or was it the end of my life? Everything feels numb as I tread and drag my feet in the knee deep snow. I feel naked and exposed to the people who walk along and stare and keep moving. Everything is covered in a huge fluff of snow and it looks like the clouds froze and dropped down on us. I looked to my sister Cinderella who never left to go to the ball to find her prince but instead went to search for her family, finding me and my drunken father. 

The night Cinderella found us was the night I found hope again. Before Cinderella came knocking on our broken wooden door in a house that looked as if it was built in under ten minutes and was never finished. Knocking on our door gave people splinters into their knuckles. The shack we called a home was built with plywood and the hands sweat and tears of my great great great grandparents. When Cinderella arrived, grandmother was still alive and well. Her arched back and wrinkled drooping skin would say otherwise- but her vibrant smile and glistening eyes were enough to light up a shack and make it feel like an euphoric dream. 

Grandmama told Cinderella and I about the story about how my mother who died giving birth to me and how she used to live in the castle with Cinderella’s father. 

“Long ago”, she would start “in a dense forest where no one dared to enter was a girl dressed in a bright red cape who was on her way to deliver food to the prince”. That day I positioned myself because I thought that this would be a story with a happy ending. Grandmama continued saying, “Before entering the castle the young girl encountered a wolf-like creature who begged for food and out of kindness the young girl broke a piece of bread and poured some wine for the creature. Hours after the girl delivered the food to the prince who insisted she stayed a while longer” Little did I know that that young girl was our mother and the prince was Cinderella’s father. The prince fell in love with the girl and married her years later, giving birth to my sister. “Ok Grandmama” I said getting ready to get up and leave “that was a beautiful story”. Grandmama grabbed me by the hand, with deep sorrow in her eyes as if she’d been holding something in for a century and said “The story is far from finished my dear. . . remember the creature I told you about?” I nodded. “That-that creature killed Cinderella’s father and threw your mother into exile” I asked her “How did mama meet papa then” she looked up with tears in her eyes and said “Your papa isn’t who you think he is”. Her chest fell down as she took her last breath. And from then on those words always rang in my head like those 20 ton bells that are strung at the top of a tower. 

The matches on my left side pocket are the only things I have from Grandmama, who passed away days later. Walking along to try and find a place to rest was hard. We’ve been walking around for a few days or maybe just a few hours. But it felt like ages. It felt like there was no hope. I looked over to Cinderella whose skin was pale and blue and her eyes looked dreary but her blue eyes looked cold and crystalated.You could almost see her clavicle poking out her skin, as if demanding to be seen by the meat stands we passed by. The boned meatless legs of Cinderella quivered and shook as if it had a mind of its own. At this time of the year where everyone is jolly and people are walking around dressed like eskimos. We were so poor that the only “jackets” we had on our backs were oversized t-shirts found in the trash with holes in them that were the sizes of three combined quarters. The streets were decorated with strung up lights and reefs that swayed back and forth with the wind as the snow began to race down heavily, piling up on top of each other as it landed on earth. 

As the sun began to set, Cinderella and I found a spot next to a brick home. No matter who we begged for food or money, we were either turned down or ignored. Some people wouldn’t even look at us. One woman was walking with her husband and little girl and as we passed by them, the little girl asked “mommy why do they look like that?” and the father quickly turned the child away. While turning the child face away he said “Don’t ever look at women who have no dignity or self respect towards their body!”, in a voice so harsh and cruel that it pierced through my eardrum hitting my core as if it was the intended target. I didn’t notice the tears trickling down my face as Cinderella reached over to wipe my tears, “Don’t cry my little one, we’ve endured worse”. 

We rested in the corner of the brick building. On the right side of the building was a mural that seemed to keep moving. Laying there hopeless I decided to take out the matches that Grandmama gave me and I scratched the match to warm our hands and nothing happened. I tried again and still nothing. I scratched a different match and the light from the match pulled my arm towards the mural. Cinderella and I watched as the mural began to show an image of a family room decorated with christmas ornaments and a beautiful tree next to a fire tree hot enough to warm up the whole town. The match went out and this time Cinderella tried to light up a third one. The third one also pulled her arm to the wall. This time it was a dining hall with a table filled with delicious food and instead of a turkey in the center a headless monkey sung on the chandelier running out the wall! On the last match a tall figure approached us. I turned around and saw a hairy creature as tall as the building with an angry look on its face. Before I could even process what I saw, he grabbed me and Cinderella.

The next day we woke up in a castle with gold everywhere. Literally. Everything was made of either gold or diamond- even the floor and ceilings. Frightened, I tried to leave but the doors were locked. I layed in the room for years upon years. Tear after tears,