Monday, February 27, 2017

Crossword Puzzle



Across
1.  Differing from the usual or normal way; odd
2. Timeless tale circulated orally among people.
4. Assigned character.
5. Period of life when one is young.
7. Electronic network that connects computers.
8. A person who navigates
10. Thought, concept, or object formed by imagination.
11. Sailboat for cruising.
12. Not cooked.
13. Portion of surface (plural)
14. Something that has to be identified.
15. Having limited amount of light; dark.
15.  To inhale sharply through the mouth because of shock.
16. The act of moving a hand back and forth on the surface of something.

Down
2. In a state of danger;at risk.
4. A violent uproar by a crowd.
6. A vehicle that transports passengers in return for payment.
9. A tiny beetle that has a long snout.
13. A Japanese Buddhist movement that emphasizes the value of meditation as a way to achieve enlightenment.
16. A scent or smell.
17. A bitter dispute; conflict.
20. A spontaneous and spasmodic muscle movement.
21. The star around which the earth orbits.

22. A sexual orientation in which attraction occurs within the same sex.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Mother Nature: The Mother We Don’t Know

Living in a country where more than half of it is still untouched by human hands may be great reason for me to write this essay. People may expect something big. And it is disappointing to say that I won’t write anything big. My whole life, I’ve been surrounded by jumble of wires packed into steel. They call it technology. I call it obstacle and challenge at the same time. My parents complain that my childhood was not as harsh as theirs are because I didn’t spend mine planting rice plant in filthy mud or climbing trees with friends. Every time they tell me that, I want to scream ‘Why can’t I have the same experience you had? Don’t you ever think that I want that, too? Why was I surrounded by camera lenses instead of sunrays? Where was nature for me?’ I live in the city, one of the biggest in our country. Wild forests and sea are far from here. My social studies teacher said that half the land of Indonesia is forest. And so I keep wondering, where are those trees?

Kids my ages are all fools. We don’t see nature, we only see our parents’ camera lenses. We don’t know what rice grain looks like, we only know the sight of a bowl of porridge our maid made. We don’t see the beauty in a tree, we only memorize the latin name of it in social studies class. And yet adults are throwing their rage at us. We don’t appreciate nature anymore, they say. We ungrateful kids only know how to turn on our parents’ phone and play games, they say. Little did they know that we miss nature. Isn’t it magical, to miss something you don’t quite know?

I’ve been staying unacquainted with nature too long, and this is my wish.  Ten years from now, I don’t picture myself being a doctor or a pilot. Instead, I will live near both forest and sea. I will live in a cabin made from woods. I don’t want telephone wires to block the sunlight from my face. I want to ride my bike to the beach when the sun sets. I want to be woken by chirps of birds instead of alarm’s roar. I want to have a pet, a cat with thick fur if the heaven allow. I want to write on piece of paper and draw on the other side of it. I want to get rid of my mobile phone, even if it means cutting contact with my old classmates. I want to make fire and camp in the forest one night, with a nice book to keep me company. I want to play outside all day, and come home in the evening to my warm cabin where I will cook dinner. This is my utopia. But it won’t be my reality.


When I grow up, I want to prevent the new generation from feeling the way I did. I want them to be familiar with nature, so when they see caterpillar they won’t scream but gently set it on a tree instead. I don’t want to make them memorizing the name of the biggest forest in the country, I want them to feel love for it so they can protect it from harm. I want them to feel that nature is everywhere, and artificial world is not in power yet. Nature is our mother, and it’s only natural for us to know her.

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Favorite Song of Lifetime


"Growing Up (Sloane's Song)"

(with Ryan Lewis)
(feat. Ed Sheeran)

[Macklemore:]
They say boys don't cry
But your dad has shed a lot of tears
They say I should be a strong man
But baby, I'm still filled with fear
Sometimes I don't know who I am
Sometimes I question why I'm here
I just wanna be a good dad
Will I be? I have no idea


They say girls shouldn't be tough
And moms should raise their kids at home
But baby, I know that that isn't true
'Cause your mama's the toughest person I know
I wanna raise you to be like her
And watch you show the world how to do it on your own
I'm still tryna figure out who I am
I don't wanna mess this up or do this wrong

I'm gonna be there for your first breath
I don't know if I'll be there for your first step
I can promise you that I'll try to work less
But the tour's routed, and I got this album
Put in so many hours, and I just want the outcome
To be something that I can look back and I can be proud of
Don't wanna be a dad that's living in FaceTime
But I've got a world to sing to and you at the same time

I won't spoil you, you can trust that
For your sweet sixteen, you get a bus pass
Had your heart broken? Been there, done that
I love you and I can't give you enough of that
Get back to community that raised you up
Read Langston Hughes, I suggest "A Raisin in the Sun"
Listen to Sam Cooke, a change gon' come
You put the work in, don't worry about the praise, my love
Don't try to change the world, find something that you love
And do it every day
Do that for the rest of your life
And eventually, the world will change

[Ed Sheeran:]
I'll be patient, one more month
You'll wrap your fingers 'round my thumb
Times are changing, I know, but who am I if
I'm the person you become
If I'm still growing up, up, up, up
I'm still growing up, up, up, up
I'm still growing up

[Macklemore:]
I recommend that you read "The Alchemist"
Listen to your teachers, but cheat in calculus
Tell the truth, regardless of the consequence
And every day, give your mama a compliment
Take your girl to the prom
But don't get too drunk hanging out the limo
Slow dance with your woman in your arms
Sneak her in after, but boy, you better tiptoe
Don't wake your mom up, do yoga, learn 'bout karma
Find God, but leave the dogma

The quickest way to happiness?
Learning to be selfless
Ask more questions, talk about yourself less
Study David Bowie, James Baldwin and 2Pac
Watch the sun set with best friends from a rooftop
Wear a helmet - don't be stupid!
Jaywalk, but look before you do it
If it snows, go outside, build a jump, get some help
Get a sled, thrash the hill with your friends, 'til it melts
Go to festivals, camp, fall in love and dance

You're only young once, my loved one, this is your chance
Take risks, 'cause life moves so fast
You're only young once, my loved one, this is your chance

[Ed Sheeran:]
I'll be patient, one more month
You'll wrap your fingers 'round my thumb
Times are changing, I know, but who am I if
I'm the person you become
If I'm still growing up, up, up, up
I'm still growing up, up, up, up

[Ed Sheeran:]
I'll be patient, one more month
You'll wrap your fingers 'round my thumb
Times are changing, I know, but who am I if
I'm the person you become
If I'm still growing up, still growing up, still growing up
If I'm still growing up, still growing up, still growing up

[Ed Sheeran:]
I'm still growing up
I'm still growing up, ooh
I'm still growing up
I'm still growing up

My opinion and how this song affects me:
Macklemore wrote this song for his newly born daughter, Sloane, and this is why he gave it the additional title ‘Sloane’s Song’. What I grasped from the song is that he wasn’t quite ready yet to be a dad. Just like what he writes himself;  I just wanna be a good dad. Will I be? I have no idea. He was still in a journey to find himself, but the world gives him a daughter. I personally adore him like this, the way he told the world openly that he is a grown-up who doesn’t fully grown yet. He told us through the lyrics that he still makes mistakes and even hasn’t found his purpose of life yet.

He put all his heart into this song because he wrote it for his daughter. He told her what to do and what not to do while growing up, and you can directly see that Macklemore only wants his daughter (or son, judging by the lyrics) to be kind and nothing more. As if he wanted to say that being smart, rich, or pretty is not as important as being kind.  

The reason why this song appeals the most to me than any other songs is because I love my father. I listen to the song remembering him. I always think of my father as someone strong because he helps me all the time and never once complain while doing it. To be honest, sometimes I forget that he is also a normal human-being. I forget that he also has his up-and-downs, that he can’t help me every time I have my trouble, and that he can feel sad and even cry. Through this song I learned so much about the struggle of being a father, and this makes me respect my father a lot more.

This song also taught me that people grow up. You may think that adults around you have their problems all figured out, but in fact they don’t. Maybe they still feel confused about themselves, like Macklemore, because they are also growing up like you and me. This song taught me to not be afraid of making mistakes as long as we learn and grow from them.

The letter Macklemore wrote, in addition to his song:



I wish that I could say that I was in a “better place” when I found out the news. It would make for a far more polished and respectable story. But I think back to that night: praying on the floor at 2am as Tricia went to the bathroom to take the pregnancy test I’d just purchased from Walgreens. I was scared. Scared to start working on new music. Scared of trying again and failing. Scared of the process of staring at myself through a page and seeing someone that I wasn’t proud of. Someone that I didn’t like. Someone that wasn’t ready to be a dad.

I’ve always had some make-believe image in my head of who I would be as a father. I held on to clear expectations of where I wanted be in my career, my age, my level of self-care, and my maturity. I basically assumed that I'd have it all together. But in actuality the hypothetical “dad" version of me looked completely different than the man whose heart was beating out of his chest on the carpet, praying to a god or spirit I hadn’t talked to in months. When Tricia walked out of the bathroom, I knew. And I knew I had to change.

5 months later we were recording in a remote cabin away from the density that is Seattle. I was finally having fun in the studio for the first time in years. Songs were getting made, finally. I was going back to the city once a week to attend a birthing class with Tricia. When I got back to the cabin the next day, Ryan had made a new beat that would eventually become the song you’re listening to. Half of it is advice about growing up. The other half is trying to figure out how to grow up myself.

When you try to escape yourself, life has an interesting way of creating situations that force you to come back. To look at who you are. This is why “Growing up” felt like the right song to re-emerge with. It’s where I’ve been the last year, through all the ups and downs. We didn’t want to do a big campaign or anything over the top with this. We just wanted to put out good music, directly to the people that have been here since the beginning. Thank you for your patience. Hope you enjoy.

And if you’re wondering…

Our daughter, Sloane Ava Simone Haggerty was born 2 months ago on May 29th. There is nothing like the joy and happiness that comes from bringing a baby into this universe. She has filled my heart in ways that I never knew were possible. She is the love of my life. This song is for her.


Monday, January 9, 2017

Holiday 2016

Last holiday, which happened until two days ago, felt like a long break after around six months of studying. To be honest it's really hard to write this because I didn't exactly go anywhere for vacation. The two weeks holiday I use mainly for letting some steam off, which means: doze off for half the day, eat junk foods, read novels, watch movies, all repeated. It was an unproductive holiday but it was really nice to finally do nothing in a day.

Logically speaking, of course I didn't spend every single day of my holiday doing nothing. I actually went to some places and did some things.

1. In the first morning of 2017, my family and I went to Rancabuaya Beach in Garut. We didn't expect anything because the holiday season always make tourist places packed up. You know the saying about if someone expect the worst, the good will come to him? Well, that didn't match with our situation. The way to the beach was a long one and not easy to pass. We went past the mountains, and although the scenery was beautiful, I got very nauseous and chose to fall in deep sleep instead.

Arrived at the beach, Dad had trouble finding a spot to park. So, we circle the beach a few times and I know what was in everyone else's mind although they didn't say it. One, the beach was dirty. Seriously, everywhere you see, you'll see empty crushed Coke cans. Two, it was packed of throng. Three, this beach might not be worth the long way we just passed. But anyway, we played around by the beach for sometime (ps, only four of us got into the water because my brother and sister decided to be a wimp and just sat guarding our belongings, which was okay actually). 

After tidying up, we went back into the car. According to our itinerary, we would go to Santolo beach before going home for good. Unfortunately, here came another unfortunate thing. The road was jammed. We stayed in one spot for almost an hour! It was really depressing that we decided to forget the plan to Santolo beach and just go home. But (this was another unfortunate thing) Dad didn't seem to be in good condition to drive home straight away. His legs were weary and his head was dizzy. So, totally out of the blue, we checked in a hotel in Garut. I didn't bring more change with me, so I wear the exact same outfit until the next day when we got home.

2. My twin cousins stayed in our home for a week. They were three years old, a boy and a girl, and they are cute. I always say that I want little sibling, and now I finally got two. There isn't much to tell, because in that week we only played around with each other. I just wanted to write this because they are really cute, and good kids on top of that.

3. I read many new books. I sell some old books of mine to an online shop and got some money in return. I used that money to buy new ones to read for the holiday. Aside from reading books, I also watched many movies. Horror movies, mainly. I watched them with my two sisters at night almost every night of the holiday. Fun fact: one of my sister, Mbak Ra, is easily scared but she was the one who persuaded us to watch the movies. Throughout the scary scene, her body would shake really hard which totally irritated me and got me out of the mood. When the ghosts appeared (you know, that one slight second when the camera closed up at the ghost's face and the sound effect turned up really loud), she would banged her hands everywhere. Some of her punch landed on me, who is unfortunate enough to sit beside her for the whole movie.


Monday, October 31, 2016

Biography: Stephen Hawking




1.      Stephen Hawking was born in Oxford, England on January 8, 1942. He grew up in a highly educated family. Both of his parents had attended Oxford University and his father, Frank, was a medical researcher. The Hawkings, as one close family friend described them, were an "eccentric" bunch. Dinner was often eaten in silence, each of the Hawkings intently reading a book.

Early in his academic life, Hawking, while recognized as bright, was not an exceptional student. During his first year at St. Albans School, he was third from the bottom of his class. By his own account, Hawking didn't put much time into his studies. He would later calculate that he averaged about an hour a day focusing on school. And yet he didn't really have to do much more than that.

He wanted to study math at university but Oxford didn't have a math degree at the time so he chose physics and chemistry instead. Stephen found college coursework to be very easy. After graduation, he went to Cambridge to study for his PhD.

2.      While Hawking was working on his PhD at Cambridge University, he began to have health issues. His speech became slurred and he became very clumsy, often dropping items or falling for no reason. After going through a series of tests, doctors discovered that Hawking had a disease called ALS (also called Lou Gehrig's disease). At the time, the doctors said he only had a few years to live.

Although Hawking was initially depressed over his diagnosis, he decided that there were things he wanted to accomplish with his life. He began to study and work harder than ever before. He wanted to earn his PhD before he died.
But the most significant change in his life was the fact that he was in love. He met and fell in love with a girl named Jane Wilde. Between his work and Jane, Hawking had a reason to live.


Despite the initial grim diagnosis from his doctors, Hawking has lived a full and productive life with the help of science and modern medicine. Although he is confined to a wheelchair and cannot talk, he can communicate using a touch pad computer and a voice synthesizer.

3.      Stephen spent much of his academic work researching black holes and space-time theories. He wrote many important papers on the subject and became a noted expert on relativity and black holes. The radiation from black holes has become known as Hawking Radiation.

Stephen also enjoyed writing books. In 1988 he published A Brief History in Time. This book covered modern subjects on cosmology such as the big bang and black holes in terms that could be understood by the average reader. The book became very popular selling millions of copies and remaining on the London Sunday Times best-seller list for four years. 

***
Source:  http://www.biography.com/people/stephen-hawking-9331710#als-diagnosis




Monday, October 10, 2016

The Little Match Girl

Script of the Story
This is a story that happened long, long ago on the other side of the world. This was a time when children of poor families were sent out to sell flowers in summer and matches in the winter. The story takes place in mid-winter. It’s Christmas Eve. The snow is falling and it’s nearly dark.

The Father and Little Match Girl enter down street aisle. The father asked the little match girl who starved to sell matches, but the little match girl and her father gave slipper freezing the little match girl. The Little Match Girl puts on the slippers. Her father hands her the matches which she takes and tucks into her apron.

The Little Match Girl moves forward into the street and the Father returns back down the aisle. The Little Match Girl meanders through the street scene trying to sell her matches. She is hunched and cold and miserable. The street cast respond in mime to her calls. Her father says that the little match girl should not go home until all the matches were sold.

In the cold and the darkness the poor little girl walked bareheaded through the falling snow. She had no coat, no hat and no slippers. She left home with slippers on, it is true, but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which were her mother’s.
(Two boys enter down street aisle) Two boys dodged roughly past her with oranges stole from the orange seller. The Little Match Girl was knocked to the ground, her slippers lost, her matches spilling all around. And then the boys found the little match girl’s slipper. The boy moves away down the street aisle with her slippers.

The Little Match girl stands in the middle of the stage holding out her matches. People shopping for Christmas gifts pass by her. They move around the stage and pass behind her and in front of her as they mime the scene. She holds the matches out to each person as they pass. They turn their head away from her. She turns to hold them out to the next person who passes. A well dressed mother and child carrying parcels walk enter down street aisle then she offered a match to a well dressed mother and her child, but they refused.

The Little Match Girl trembles with cold. Fewer people pass the girl as she holds out matches to them. They gradually leave the stage area to get into position behind the windows. She tries to sell matches to the ribbon seller and the orange seller. He walks away from her and exit behind window. The little girl is left alone. She sits down in the corner on the ramp beneath the street lamp.

Nobody had bought anything from the little girl no one had given her a single penny!
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger, a picture of sorrow, the poor little thing! The flakes of snow covered her hair. From behind the windows the candles glowed. Delicious smells of roast goose wafted through the night air for it was Christmas Eve. The Little Match Girl grew colder and colder but did not dare to go home for she had not sold any matches and could not bring home even a single penny.

The little girl strikes a match on the brick wall. Wonderful light. As she held her hands over the flame it seemed to the little girl that she was dancing in front of a roaring fire. It seemed that the fire warmed her and the little girl stretched out her arms towards the fire.

The flame from the little match went out. Little Match Girl shivers with cold and looks at burnt out match . The fire vanished. All that was left was a burnt out match in her hand. The little girl was so cold. She rubbed another match against the wall: it burned brightly. Its flame lit up a window.

Inside she could see a table. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth, upon it people placed splendid plates and glassware. Then a large Christmas pudding was brought out. The pudding was so huge it could barely be lifted to the table it and it was steaming famously with a stuffing of apple and dried plums. The little girl could smell
the goose and imagined the taste of apples and plums on her tongue. The flame from the little match went out.

The table and the wonderful food vanished. All that was left was a burnt out match in her hand. The little girl was so cold. She took another match and rubbed it against the
wall. It burned brightly. In the next window the little girl could see a beautiful Christmas tree, sparkling with decorations. But  soon the flame from the little match went out. The Christmas tree and the gifts, the children and the music vanished.

The lights the little girl had seen on the Christmas tree seemed to rise up into the sky
higher and higher. She saw them now as stars in heaven. One fell down and formed a long trail of fire

The little girl’s grandmother was the only person who treated the little girl with love. Before she died, the grandmother had told the little girl that when a star falls, a soul ascends to heaven. The little girl drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the grandmother, so bright and radiant and with such an expression of love. The grandmother took the girl and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, where there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety - they were with God.

The cold continued through the night. Eventually morning came and light filtered over
the cold hard snow. People came out of their warm houses wrapped in their hats and cloaks. Their feet crunched over the snowy ground.

In the corner of the two houses sat the little girl. She was smiling and leaning against the wall frozen to death on the Eve before Christmas. The people in the street saw a little girl who was cold and dead. They did not know what beautiful things she had seen, no one dreamed of the splendour in which, with her  Grandmother. She had entered the joy of a new year.

Dialogue of the Story
Narrator: This is a story that happened long, long ago on the other side of the world. This was a time when children of poor families were sent out to sell flowers in summer and matches in the winter. The story takes place in mid-winter. It’s Christmas Eve. The snow is falling and it’s nearly dark.

The Father and Little Match Girl enter down street aisle.


Father: Hurry up! It’s time for you to go and sell matches.
Little Match Girl: I’m so hungry! Can I have a crust of bread?
Father: There’s no food left. Take the matches and sell them. Then we can buy bread!
Little Match Girl: I have no shoes or slippers to wear in the snow.
Father: Here, wear your mother’s (hands her slippers), she’s still asleep.

The Little Match Girl puts on the slippers. Her father hands her the matches which she takes and tucks into her apron.

Little Match Girl: Thank you Father.
Father: Don’t come home until you sell them all. Do you understand?
Little Match Girl: Yes Father. Goodbye.

The Little Match Girl moves forward into the street and the Father returns back down the aisle. The Little Match Girl meanders through the street scene trying to sell her matches. She is hunched and cold and miserable. The street cast respond in mime to her calls.

Narrator: In the cold and the darkness the poor little girl walked bareheaded through the falling snow. She had no coat, no hat and no slippers. She left home with slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which were her mother’s.

(Two boys enter down street aisle) Two boys dodged roughly past her with oranges stole from the orange seller. The Little Match Girl was knocked to the ground - her slippers lost, her matches spilling all around.

Little March Girl: Oh no! My slippers! Where are they?
Little Boy: What are you looking for?
Little Match Girl: I lost my slippers, please help me find them!
Little Boy: Let me see….. Look! I found them!
Little Match Girl: Oh thank you!
Little Boy:Not so fast … Now they belong to me. See you!
Little Match Girl: Please no!

The boy moves away down the street aisle with her slippers.
The Little Match girl stands in the middle of the stage holding out her matches.
People shopping for Christmas gifts pass by her. They move around the stage and pass behind her and in front of her as they mime the scene.

Little Match Girl: Matches, matches, would you like to buy matches?

She holds the matches out to each person as they pass. They turn their head away from her.
She turns to hold them out to the next person who passes.
A well dressed mother and child carrying parcels walk enter down street aisle.

 Mother: I’m so glad we’ve finished our shopping.
Girl: Thank you for buying me the doll mother. It’s so pretty.
Little Match Girl: Matches ma’m? Would you like to buy some matches?
Mother: We don’t need matches. Get away from us.
They push past the Little Match Girl
Girl: She’s so dirty.
Mother: I know darling. Hurry!
Girl: (looks back at the Little Match Girl) Look at her dress, mother, it’s so old and she isn’t wearing any shoes.
Little Match Girl: (Following the mother and child) Please buy some matches. They’re only a penny.
Mother: Get away from us. (Pulling child by the hand they exit behind window)

The Little Match Girl trembles with cold. Fewer people pass the girl as she holds out matches to them.
They gradually leave the stage area to get into position behind the windows. She tries to sell matches to the ribbon seller and the orange seller.

Little Match Girl: Matches, matches! Would you like some matches?
Ribbon Seller: Get away from me! You’ve been bothering me and my customers all day!
Ribbon seller exists behind window. The Little Match Girls approaches the orange seller.
Little Match Girl:Sir, Sir… please… would you like to buy some matches? They are magical, you know.
When you light one, all your wishes come true.
Orange Seller: That’s nonsense! Those are fairy tales. Get away from me.
Little Match Girl: But, sir, please buy one… its light will give you the most wonderful New Year.
Orange Seller: I told you. I don’t want matches today. Why don’t you go home, it’s a cold night.
Little Match Girl: I can’t sir, my father told me not to go home until I sell them all.
Orange Seller: I’m sorry, I don’t need matches.

He walks away from her and exits behind window. The little girl is left alone.
She sits down in the corner on the ramp beneath the street lamp.

Narrator: Nobody had bought anything from the little girl; no one had given her a single penny!
She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!
The flakes of snow covered her hair. From behind the windows the candles glowed.
Delicious smells of roast goose wafted through the night air for it was Christmas Eve.
The Little Match Girl grew colderand colder but did not dare to go home for she had not sold any matches and could not bring home even a single penny.
Little Match Girl: Oh, I wish I could cover myself with something. My hands and feet are so cold!
She looks at the matches then puts them down. She looks at them again.
I will light just one of my matches to warm my fingers a little.
The little girl strikes a match on the brick wall.



Little Match Girl: I feel warm now. Oh, what a wonderful light. What is that, over there?
It’s a fire. My feet and hands feel so warm.
Narrator:How the flame blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle; it was a wonderful light. As she held her hands over the flame it seemed to the little girl that she was dancing in front of a roaring fire. It seemed that the fire warmed her and the little girl stretched out her arms towards the fire.

Narrator: The flame from the little match went out.

Little Match Girl shivers with cold and looks at burnt out match.

Narrator: The fire vanished. All that was left was a burnt out match in her hand. The little girl was so cold.
She rubbed another match against the wall: it burned brightly. Its flame lit up a window.



Lights up behind the window. Actors arrange Christmas feast.
They place each thing on the table with a flourish.



Narrator: Inside she could see a table. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it people placed splendid plates and glassware. Then a large Christmas pudding was brought out. The pudding was so huge it could barely be lifted to the table it and it was steaming famously with a stuffing of apple and dried plums. The little girl could smell the goose and imagined the taste of apples and plums on her tongue. The flame from the little match went out.

Light fades out behind the window.
Little Match Girl shivers and looks at burnt out match.

Narrator: The table and the wonderful food vanished. All that was left was a burnt out match in her hand. The little girl was so cold. She took another match and rubbed it against the wall: it burned brightly. In the next window the little girl could see a beautiful Christmas tree, sparkling with decorations.



Lights up behind second window. Children are tying ribbons around box presents and decorating a tree.

Little Match Girl: Oh, what a wonderful Christmas tree. The lights are as bright as stars!
Narrator: Soon the flame from the little match went out. The Christmas tree and the gifts, the children and the music vanished.

Light fades out behind window. Little match girl shivers with cold and looks at burnt out match.

Narrator:The lights the little girl had seen on the Christmas tree seemed to rise up into the sky higher and higher. She saw them now as stars in heaven. One fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
Little Match Girl: Oh, there’s a star falling and it’s leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. Someone is going to heaven!


Little Match Girl, shivering with cold, moves to ramp to sit under street lamp.

Narrator: The little girl’s grandmother was the only person who treated the little girl with love. Before she died, the grandmother had told the little girl that when a star falls, a soul ascends to heaven. The little girl drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the
grandmother, so bright and radiant and with such an expression of love.


Little Match Girl strikes her last match. Grandmother appears illuminated in shadow inside
the church window on stage. The Little Match Girl moves towards her.
Little Match Girl:Grandmother, Oh take me with you - I know you will go away when the match burns out. You will vanish like the warm fire, the roast goose, and the glorious Christmas tree. (Match goes out)


Grandmother silently moves back into the church. The Little Match Girl returns to stage. With her life ebbing away in the freezing cold, she lies down on the ramp and sleeps.

Narrator: The grandmother took the girl and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, where there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety - they were with God.


Street woman emerges from behind window scattering paper snowflakes as the narrator speaks.


Narrator: The cold continued through the night. Eventually morning came and light filtered over the cold hard snow. People came out of their warm houses wrapped in their hats and cloaks. Their feet crunched over the snowy ground.


Street cast become aware of the Little Match Girl frozen to death on the ramp.
They stop and surround the ramp, looking at the little girl.

Narrator: In the corner of the two houses sat the little girl. She was smiling and leaning against the wall, frozen to death on the Eve before Christmas.
Man in the Street: Poor child, she froze to death… on Christmas Eve!
Woman in the Street: It’s so sad… (picks up a burnt out match) she tried to warm herself with the matches.

Street cast leave their lanterns around the little match girl and exit slowly, heads bowed, down the street.
The Narrator leaves her position and exits down the street. The Little Match Girl is left surrounded by
lanterns in a pool of light.

Narrator: The people in the street saw a little girl who was cold and dead. They did not know what beautiful things she had seen; no one dreamed of the splendour in which, with her Grandmother she had entered the joy of a new year.

The End

Source : https://allencentre.wikispaces.com/The+Little+Match+Girl+Script
Members : Desi Ramdania (desiramdaniakuswandi.blogspot.com)
Desta Narantoko (destanarantoko2712.blogspot.com)
In'ya Yuri Atasi (blogwithinya.blogspot.com)


Karima Taushia Ahmad