The Little Matchstick Filly
It was cold in the small packed loft of the dilapidated barn where a family of seven foals was at work making artificial flowers. The floor was covered with straw so trodden that nopony could eat it. The wind whistled through the room, even with the biggest cracks stuffed with paper and mane trimmings. The smallest most gangly filly of the house, who had a willowy air around her, was sent out in the cold blustery day to sell the silk flowers and wooden matches. It was late in the wintry afternoon of Hearth's Warming Eve as the poor little filly trotted along the ice covered streets. She started to shiver as soon as the wind hit her fur, she had only a moth eaten red shawl to wrap around her bony body. She had been wearing slippers when she left her home, but they did not do much good, the soles had been worn paper thin. They were also much too large for her since they had been used by her mother before her, and they fell off of the filly's hooves when she was crossing the street and had to jump to avoid a cart and a carriage when they nearly crashed into each other. So the poor little filly trudged through the the icy snow with nothing to keep her hooves warm but her thinning fur and torn stockings. She carried plenty of matches in a tray on her back and flowers in her saddle bags. As she walked through the street she could not help but marvel at the sights or all the treasures around her, things she would never be able to obtain. The smells of the roast squash and chestnuts that blanketed the streets made her mouth water. Everywhere she walked she could hear ponies around her sing about how they were going spend the night with their friends and family.
All through the day she tried to sell her wares but nopony even looked at her. They were too busy with their own preparations for the eve. As day turned to evening, she had not managed to earn even one bit. The filly was near hypothermia and starvation and was the picture of a miserable foal. She longed to go home to her family where she could hide from the cold cutting wind but she could not, as she had not sold anything. If she went back her parents would beat her. Even if they didn't the barn was so cold she would not feel any warmer then she was now, even if her family huddled around her. The tired foal slipped into one of the less used alleyways and crouched beside a compost which give her some protection for the wind but made her feel even colder. Her little hooves were numb from the cold. She looked down at the matches laying in the tray now resting in front of her. Certainly it wouldn't matter if she used one little match? Her family wouldn't punish her if she was a few bits short. The foal picked up the match and stared at it, then with a flick against the brick wall and a pphhhtt it was blazing with a quiet fire. The match burned with a light brighter then she expected. It was more like a candle then a wooden match, It gave off a strange eerie energy too.
In the glow of the match the little filly it seemed like a hearth was right in front of her. It had a fine brick base with polished brass vines curling around it. A cheery fire was burning and giving off both a light the pushed away the gathering darkness and a merry smell of cinnamon and cloves. The warmth it gave off felt like it could penetrate down into her soul. As she crawled closer to it so she melt the ice in her tail, the match went out and the hearth disappeared and that was left was a cold wet filly sitting in the snow with a burned out match in her hoof.
The foal looked down and slowly struck another match against the wall. It burned and cast the same eerie light as the first. When the light fell upon the wall the foal could see through it to a magnificent feast before her. The table was pristine marble covered in a white silk tablecloth. Each dish was made of fine china with gold inlay. On the centre of the table was a roasted squash stuffed with pecans and cranberries. Beside it where roasted potatoes, carrots and cabbage as well as chestnut and mushroom stuffing and hayfries with mushroom gravy. There was another table filled with all kinds of desserts from pudding and tarts to cakes and cookies. The assortment of foods made the filly mouth water and her stomach tremble as she gazed up at the delicacies. Just she was about to reach out and take a hoofful, the match burned out and there was nothing to look at but a plain brick wall.
The filly quickly lit another and then a magnificent pine tree larger than the ones she had seen in the windows of the rich ponies houses appeared in front of her. It was surrounded by the most beautiful clothes she had ever seen and toys varying from china dolls to a stuffed dragon. In the branches were all manner of decorations; from garlands that shone like diamonds, to ornaments of the finest blown glass. At the end of each branch were lit candle that twinkled and glimmered through the falling snow and gathering darkness. The little filly stretched her hooves out to touch them when the match went out. The candles on the branches rose into the air, high and higher until they were like twinkling stars.
The filly lit another match and from down the alleyway came an immaculate carriage, even the carriages she had seen pulling the princesses looked poor and simple compared to it. The wheels were made of rosewood and accented with obsidian stones, the carriage body was made of sandalwood and had fine silver moulding all around it. In the silver were tiny carving of ponies playing and dancing around. The carriage was being pulled by glowing white creatures that the filly could not identify but gave off a feeling of love and tolerance. Through the window of the carriage, the filly could see purple plush pillows and tray of sweetmeats. Pressing two more matches to her lit one, the filly sprang up and pulled open the door climbed up the tiny ladder on sitting down on one of the benches. The moment she got in, the cold and darkness of the city disappeared. It was replaced with a tranquil warmness that filled up the filly and a comforting light coming from red candles that stood in the corners of the carriage. As the filly looked down she watch the last bit of fire disappear from her matches. With a sudden lurch the carriage and the filly started to move. The little filly looked out the window to see she was flying high above the city, so high should couldn't see any of the ponies below. The carriage started to go faster and faster as the lights to the city disappeared to be replaced with the endless waters of the ocean. The filly began to snuggle down into the cushions as the warm and dry environment lets her relax for the first time that day. Her eyes became more and more droopy and sleep began to overcome her. With one final yawn the filly closed her eyes and drifted off into sleep.
The Little Matchstick Filly
In the cold of the morning light the poor little filly sat there in the corner with a smile on her face – the carriage had been traveling all night and it was beginning to descend into a small village, dusted with snow. The carriage landed in front of a small wood cabin. The filly opened the carriage door and hopped onto the ground. As she was walking up the footpath, the cabin door slowly opened and a old mare with a grey mane under a blue shawl. The filly gasped and ran up to to the mare she recognized as her grandmother whom she had been told had died years ago. The old mare looked at her granddaughter and smiled, then knelt down and wrapped her hooves around the crying filly who was burying her face into the mare’s mane. She picked up one of the flowers from the tray still on the filly back and slipped it behind her ear, then picked the filly up and carried her into the cabin. To the left was a fine brick hearth with polished brass vines curling around it and to the right was a table of pristine marble covered in a white silk tablecloth. As she walked through her down whispering sweetness into the filly ear and door closed behind her.