As a witness to the scene of the little match girl on New Year's Eve, please narrate the story of The Little Match Girl.

Prompt: As a witness to the scene of the little match girl on New Year's Eve, narrate the story of The Little Match Girl.

Retell the story of The Little Match Girl.

I. Outline Witnessing the scene of the little match girl on New Year's Eve, recount the story of The Little Match Girl (Standard)

II. Sample Essay Witnessing the scene of the little match girl on New Year's Eve, retell the story of The Little Match Girl (Standard)

I am an aesthetically pleasing wall, residing in an affluent family that takes good care of me. Approaching the Tet holiday, I was fortunate to be adorned in a new, beautiful yellow outfit. Here, I have witnessed many interesting stories—some that made me burst into laughter, some that stirred my emotions, and some that left an enduring ache in my heart. There's one story that, even now, fills me with sorrow and pain, yet I want to share it with you all in the hope that you'll understand that only human compassion for one another can rescue those unfortunate and downtrodden fates.

It was a New Year's Eve, a night with biting cold, freezing weather that left people frozen in place. I, frozen like an ice statue in this eerie weather, watched as snowflakes fell, covering the streets in a chilling silence. A little girl wandered alone at a street corner, carrying bundles of matches for sale. Her desperate cries echoed:
- Ma'am, sir, please buy matches from me.
- Hey, can you help me by purchasing some matches?

Perhaps due to the intense cold, her voice gradually faded away, her body trembling, yet the responses she received were indifferent glances and disapproving shakes of the head. It was truly heartbreaking. In this harsh weather, my household, warm and cozy, was busy baking cakes with spring flowers and sparkling candles, while that little girl roamed the cold streets, offering matches in vain. I felt immense sympathy for her, wishing I could place a warm fur hat on her pitiful head, provide her with a pair of thin fabric shoes for those bare and freezing feet, and drape a coat over her to alleviate the bitter cold within her. Alas, I couldn't; I could only watch with a heavy heart as she took each step, filled with boundless compassion.

Perhaps due to the intense cold, she sought refuge by my side, attempting to shield herself from the biting gusts of the indifferent winds. I, with my broad form, embraced her to provide solace.

With kindness, I inquired:
- Have you sold many, little one?

She looked at me with hesitation as she replied:
- Not much, sir. I've been out since early morning, but only managed to sell two bundles all day. Now I'm freezing, and my stomach is growling because I haven't had anything to eat.
- Why don't you go home with your family? It's almost time for New Year's Eve celebrations. I asked, deeply moved.

Perhaps my question was ill-timed, or more accurately, each question seemed to pierce into the tender heart of the pitiable girl. She trembled as she choked back tears and softly said:
- I'm an orphan. I lost my mother when I was little. I used to live with my grandma and dad. Our family was happy and warm back then... But... when my grandma passed away, we lost everything. Since then, my dad has become hot-tempered, angry, scolding and abusing me... Now, if I go back without selling any matches, he will surely beat me...

Amidst that choked sobbing, I heard her recount the warm New Year's Eve spent with her revered grandmother, being cared for and loved in a beautiful home adorned with spring decorations. It seemed like she was reliving those beautiful days to escape the harsh and painful reality of the lonely, freezing corner. Deprived of both material and emotional support, no one was there for her now. As the night grew colder, the child tried to pull her feet closer, but the more she tried, the more her legs stiffened, her little feet becoming numb. Then she laughed and said, a smile not without a hint of sadness:
- If only I could light a match now to warm myself, wouldn't that be something? If only I had a warm flame to heat my fingers.

Before I could respond, she opened the matchbox and struck the first match. The flame on the match glowed and then flickered into a bright red. At that moment, looking into those big, bright eyes, I felt as if I saw a small girl sitting by a warm fireplace, warming her cold hands and breathing in the warm air. The brilliant flame in the iron fireplace cast dancing shadows, captivating her with fascination and joy. She wished that she could sit in front of the warm fireplace for hours on this freezing night. However, as she stretched her legs out to warm them, the fireplace suddenly went out, and a look of regret appeared on her pitiful face. She hesitated when thinking that she would return, and her father would surely scold her for not selling matches, a task he had entrusted to her.

She was truly afraid, but perhaps due to the extreme cold, she couldn't bear it, so she decided to risk striking the second match. The match ignited and shone brightly. Her eyes fascinated me; in those eyes, I saw a table set with white linen and exquisite porcelain dishes, a roasted goose on its back with a carving knife advancing toward her, and a radiant gaze within indescribable joy. But then, the match went out, and there was no sumptuously prepared table as she had dreamt. She was alone again, shivering here, the cutting cold breeze indifferent, people passing by unconcerned, not a soul, not a single soul feeling pity for the plight of the pitiful match-selling girl.

Then she proceeded to strike the third match, and once again, the match illuminated a small area. Deep in her eyes were images of lush and beautiful Christmas trees, sparkling candles, and perfectly arranged gifts, all compelling her as if urging her to rise and approach, smiling to receive the love at that moment. But then the match went out again, and she once more felt disappointment.

Oh, the simple dreams she wished for, not wealth and prosperity, just a fireplace, a delicious meal, a warm gathering that many ordinary children enjoy. It's truly pitiful. I can no longer contain my emotions; I cry, cry for her, cry for the indifference of those passing by, and cry for my own helplessness at this moment to assist her.

Then she continues to strike the remaining matches in the bundle, the matches bringing a bit of light to illuminate her dark life. In her melancholic eyes, the image of her kind grandmother from years ago appears. The grandmother returns to her when she is desperate and utterly miserable. The old lady smiles with affection, and in her subconscious, the child raises a heartfelt plea:
- Granny, please don't go. Take me with you, Granny. I want to be with you, to go to paradise with you and the merciful God. Don't leave me, Granny!

And the next matches are lit by her, fearing that when the matches go out, her grandmother will disappear. When the last match goes out, the child kneels, her legs on the cold, snowy ground. A contented smile blooms on her lips. She has fulfilled her wish, to a place of heavenly love and protection from her grandmother. Perhaps, for her, this is the best outcome now.

I cried a lot on that New Year's Eve, a night when everyone was brimming with happiness in their warm homes. In a quiet place, a truly heartbreaking death occurred. No one will know what the little girl went through, the pain and suffering to the extent she endured. No one will see the profound sorrow that the innocent child had to bear. And no one will know how beautiful her death was. They will only see a lifeless body between two walls, a cute smile on her face. They will not know or refuse to admit that it was their indifference and apathy that took the life of an innocent, unfortunate child. If only they had extended a helping hand with a warm loaf of bread, a cozy jacket, or bought her a small bundle of matches, perhaps she would be different now.