Instructions for answering questions on topic 2, page 123, Textbook of Literature 10, volume 1, writing essay writing essay number 3: The most detailed and complete narrative text.
Transform into matchsticks to tell the story along the way and end Andersen’s Stop The Little Match Girl (or similar events, but with different endings).
Suggestions for topic 2 pages 123 Textbook 10, volume 1
1. Opening lesson:
– I am a match that helps to shine in the dark night, dispelling the cold and darkness for people. From the time I was born, I have been attached to the good-natured little mistress, but with a bad fate.
+ Every day, I follow the mistress wandering on the cold streets of the city.
+ Day by day, I worry that I will have to leave my parents, friends, relatives but unlike I thought, I am still very peaceful in my bag.
+ Although I was not far from my parents, I witnessed the scene where the little owner was scolded and beaten by her father when she could not sell us. My joy is the mistress’s pain. Seeing her in pain makes my heart fall in love with her.
+ Then one day on New Year’s Eve, we wandered through the cold streets again, her hand shaking as she held us. Then she sat down in the corner by the side of the road. She unfolded the matches one by one.
+ For the first time I was enlightened to see the light of the city.
+ She started to light my friends on the matchbox, and then they lit up. Each match that is lit is a wish made.
+ Dreams are pure, pure and simple, but they fade away with the light when we have burned out.
+ The last match is me, this time also the best wish. However, I did not die out like other matches, but kept burning bright and flying with the little mistress to heaven.
– How beautiful is paradise where there is no suffering, no cold wind. There I was burned forever with the mistress and her dear grandmother.
– Express your thoughts and wishes.
Sample essay 1
It was very cold that Christmas night. It has been a few days of continuous snowfall, like a headline for the city to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of Christ. Yet I still roamed the streets with her. The little girl wanted to sell all of us – the matches, to passersby to bring money back to her father in time for New Year’s Eve.
It was late in the afternoon, in the dark and cold, the little girl with her bare head and bare feet roamed along the street with us despite the snowflakes falling on her shoulder-length blond hair. My friend was carried by her in an old apron, and I was held in her hands by her. She was trying to find a place where a lot of people passed by. But it was too cold, passersby walked quickly, no one cared about her greetings. During the day she sold nothing and no one gave her anything. Hungry and cold, she still wanders on the street…
Peeking through the gap in the cover, I saw the lighted windows, the smell of roast goose, fragrant, emanating from those cozy houses. The baby still knows that today is New Year’s Eve but doesn’t dare to go home, his father will probably beat him because he hasn’t sold a penny all day, and at home there is nothing better, only the roof is dilapidated despite the wind howling. . I love her infinitely, want to scream loudly to let everyone around know, To buy us to help her. I was also angry at myself for being just dumb matches. Hungry, tired and cold, she and us sat nestled in a corner, between two houses, one built a little back. She pulled her legs into her body, but every time I saw her, she got colder. Hugging us in her arms, the little girl whispered: “Dammit, I remember in the past, when my gentle grandmother was still alive, I also enjoyed New Year’s Eve at home. But death came to take my grandmother away, my fortune was destroyed, and my family had to leave the beautiful house with ivy climbing around, where I lived the warm days, to hide in a dark corner. toothless, always listening to taunts and curses.” Hearing the little girl’s whispers, I felt so sorry that I couldn’t do anything. I only know how to comfort and protect her: “You should light a match and warm it up, at least we can help you with the cold.” She finally heard us risk getting one of us to light the fire. My match buddy is very sharp. It seems that he also loves her very much, so he wants to bring his life to warm her. The flame when the hair was blue, gradually faded, white, rose around the wooden stick, bright and pleasing to the eye. The little girl warmed her hands on a match that was as bright as embers. Rub! What a magical light! “I thought I was sitting in front of an iron fireplace with shiny bronze reliefs,” she whispered. In the furnace, the fire is pleasing to the eye and gives off a relatively gentle heat. It’s comfortable. Rub! When the snow covers the ground and the north wind blows, how nice it is to sit for hours like that, on a cold winter’s night, in front of a fireplace!” Her hands were warmed over the fire; match in hand, thumb burning hot. The little girl had just stretched out her legs to warm up when the fire went out, “Oh, the fireplace is gone”. The little girl sat there, holding a dead match in her hand, and it suddenly occurred to her that her father had authorized the sale of matches; Tonight, when I go home, I will be scolded by my father. “Light a match and keep warm, little girl!” .I whispered again. The little girl struck a second match, and it burned and glowed. The little girl exclaimed: “What a beautiful curtain of fabric. The table is set, the linen is pure white, there are precious porcelain dishes on it, and there’s a roast goose! It jumped out of the plate and brought the knife, hurled it, stuck it on its back, coming towards me? Then… the match went out; In front of her were only thick, cold walls. Reality has replaced the dream: there are no sumptuous tables at all, but only empty streets, freezing cold, snow covered in white, the north wind blowing, and the loss of cold-clothed passersby in a hurry. went to the promised places, completely indifferent to the poverty of the little match girl. Don’t wait for me to remind her to light a third match this time. The little girl exclaimed with delight, “A Christmas tree! This tree is larger and more ornate than the one I saw last year through the window of a wealthy merchant. Thousands of bright candles, flickering on verdant branches and lots of colorful paintings like the ones in the store shelves. I saw the little girl raise her hand as if it were a tree… but the match went out.
– Someone must have died. The little girl said softly, because she, that only gentle person, has long since passed away, used to say: “When a star changes its throne, there is a spirit that flies to the sky with God”. The girl struck another match against the wall, a blue light radiated around her.
– Madam! The little girl shouted, let me go! I know that when a match goes out, you disappear like the fireplace, roast goose and Christmas tree before, but please don’t leave me here; Before, when she did not return to the supreme God, how happy we were! At that time, my grandmother once told me that if I was obedient, I would see her again; Madam! I beg you, I beg of God to give me a ticket with you. Surely He will not refuse.
The match went out again and the bright illusion on the baby’s face also disappeared. The little girl lit almost all the matches left in the bag. I was among the remaining matches, so I witnessed it all. She must want to hold her back! Matched matches shine like the middle of the day. She must have never seen her so big and beautiful. I had the feeling that the old woman took her hand, then the two of them flew high and high, no longer hungry, cold, and sad, no longer threatening them. They looked up to God.
The next morning, I saw that the snow was still covering the ground, but the sun was up, clear, bright in the pale blue sky. Everyone happily went out to ask about the house. in the corner the little girl with rosy cheeks and smiling lips. She died from the cold on New Year’s Eve. But she brings with her beautiful dreams. That was the miracle she saw, especially the glorious scene when the two of them flew up to receive the joys of the beginning of the year. The emperor came to her, freeing her from the realm of suffering and cold hearts. I didn’t have as luck as my other matches in warming her up and giving her good dreams. But I witnessed her small, simple joys. I wish her happiness with her grandmother. I also pray that I never have to witness such a story again.
Sample essay 2
It was cold that Christmas night. It had been snowing for several days in a row, like a headline adorning the city with holiness to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of Christ.
The baby was holding a paper sack full of matchboxes, walking while carrying an invitation. It was so cold that she had to drag her bare feet on the roadway. The baby’s old slippers were hidden this morning by mischievous children on the street. It’s cold as hell. The baby’s feet are swollen and purple. She tried to crawl under the eaves to avoid the cold, sometimes her innocent eyes looked up at the crowd indifferently back and forth, half begging, half shy. I don’t understand why she only sells for a penny a box of matches like every other day, but no one wants to ask about it tonight.
The later at night, the colder it gets. Snow was still falling on the roadway. The child selling matches saw the tired man. Feet are now numb, no feeling at all. She longs to go home and curl up on a shabby bed in the corner to take a nap to forget hunger and cold. But thinking of the harsh words, the whipping strokes of the stepmother, the baby shivered and hurriedly walked away. After a while, he began to fix his eyes on the houses on both sides of the road. Every home is cheerful, warm, and brightly decorated. Some places there are flashing lights, where there is a Christmas tree with colorful gifts and cakes. Someone put on the table turkey, wine, and cake that looked delicious. Unknowingly, the baby swallowed his saliva, his eyes widened, his hands trembled, he found himself cold and hungry more than ever. Bringing her hands to her face, the baby staggered to the sound of Christmas music echoing everywhere and everyone was calm, happy, and happy to celebrate the birth of Jesus…
The later at night, the more snow falls. Darkness, cold and hunger seemed to cover, as if wrapped in a sickly small body. The baby hid on the sidewalk between two rows of tall buildings to avoid the evil wind and find a little warmth in the night. Sitting and resting for a while, suddenly remembering a matchbox, the child took out one and lit it to warm his fingers to reduce frostbite. The matchstick burned brightly, so warmly, but only for a moment, it went out, making it even more frustrating than before. The child tries to light a second match. When the matchstick flared up, the baby saw in front of him a table full of food, specials for Christmas. She was so happy, she reached out her hand to grab it, and at that moment the match went out, leaving her in the dark, with the cold now even more terrible. She was so scared, afraid of the cold, afraid of the dark, quickly took out a paper bag to pour out all the matches, and then kept lighting them one by one, tree after tree. In the light of each matchstick, the baby finds himself coming home, seeing his mother’s strength again. The mother lovingly carried the baby to the fireplace, dressed her in a warm and beautiful long coat, then gently fed her each delicious piece of cake. Mother affectionately held the baby in her arms, caressed, asked all kinds of things. Each time the match went out, the image of the dear mother disappeared, the baby panicked, quickly flicked another stick, and the mother reappeared. Just like that, the baby’s hand was passionately lighting one match after another. Then like a madman, he took a match and lit the whole box of matches. When the fire broke out, he saw his mother bending down to pick him up, carrying him to a place full of singing, full of loved ones, he no longer felt cold or hungry.
The next morning, everyone happily went to the street to celebrate the new year. Then some people spotted a little girl with rosy eyes and smiling lips. The little girl died from the cold on New Year’s Eve. They said to each other, “She burned out a pack of matches. It must have wanted to keep warm.” A customer picked up a match left over on the lid of the basket, loudly saying: “Oh! It missed a match here!”. Yes ! That match is me. That’s why I witnessed the beginning and end of the story of that pitiful little match girl.
Students refer to the following articles:
- Review of the short story The Little Match Girl
- Tell the story of Little Match Girl
in order to be able to feel the role and impact of each character on each other in the story, thereby building a body culture lesson on matchsticks to tell the story according to the development and ending the story to prevent the little girl from selling. Andesen’s matches are beautiful and emotional.
Above are suggestions for answering questions on question 2, page 123, in a detailed study of the 10th volume 1 grammar textbook by Study Good to help students prepare essay writing essay #3: Narrative writing in the 10th grade writing program is better than before. go to class.
Answer the question on page 2 123 Textbook of Literature grade 10, volume 1, guide to writing essays Writing essay number 3: Narrative essay
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