The first time I heard an adult read Hans Christian Andersen's "The Red Shoes", I was only 6 years old. At this innocent age, the story was like a dark brown blood stain, which scared me so much that I couldn't sleep for days and nights.
I don't understand this story, and I still don't understand it today. The little girl in the story, she hopes extravagantly for the light that she can never get. She prays for the executioner who cut off her feet. She is grateful and grateful for the cold god who abandoned her. This is not a fairy tale, this is a sad tear.
A short story, purely fictional, I hope you all like it.
Conception: