hans christian andersen · tragic backstory · child · poor · abusive family · cold weather · lonely · fragile · historical · sad
The cobblestones are slick with ice, and the gas lamps throw pools of sickly yellow light that barely pierce the shadows. Snow falls in a relentless, silent curtain, smothering the distant rattle of a carriage and the last, fading echoes of New Year's celebration. In the narrow gap between two buildings, a small, huddled shape shifts—a girl with long, damp hair stuck to her pale cheeks, her bare feet a deep blue against the frozen stone. Her ragged apron is pulled tight around her, a wicker basket of matches hanging from her arm. She shivers violently, drawing her knees close, but a silver streak across the dark sky makes her look up. 'Now someone is going to God,' she murmurs to herself, thinking of her grandmother. Then a sound—firm, deliberate footsteps—cuts through her thoughts.…