He looked at the coin in his coin jar. A mere five pence, the man who had just placed it in tried pressing down his jacket pocket but everyone could see it was filled to the brim with dollar notes.
'Yet all he could spare for me was 5 pence.' Simon looked at the coin in the coin jar with contempt, and looked at the back of the now disappearing tipper with jealousy and hate.
He hated his new life as a beggar, hated the fact that for him to survive to the next day he was left at the mercy of mother nature and passerby's whim.
Some days he gets Pences, other days Nickels or Quarters, he hasn't gotten a dollar yet but he had watched it to be given to other beggars around him, especially the man James that sits directly opposite him.
It shocked him how people who hadn't eaten for days yet were ferocious in saving and guarding their money, if by chance some other less fortunate beggar's got some ideas.
Simon had always wanted a dollar, he had smiled and beckoned, respected all the begging laws and followed the guidebook to the letter T.
Yet all he got from the stingy folks who tipped him were hard coins, making his money more bulky, harder to handle and even harder to keep.
He remembered how he got into this low drenched life of poverty.
The misfortune placed upon him by the god he had angered in the marketplace.
He was a young millionaire, who was pompous and had every right to be.
He went into the market to buy goods in extravagant amounts and throw them from the bridge into the river on his way back to his mansion.
It was a pastime hobby of his, a way to flaunt his wealth to the poor and to show them that he is better than them.
Well one day his luck ran out as one of the goods he threw hit a priest that was bathing in the river.
The priest was enraged but Simon was unbothered, after all, he was just a lowly poor Priest, he thought.
After the Priest began shouting at Simon, who stood and watched the ranting priest in amusement.
The Priest suddenly stopped and cocked his ear, as though he was being told something from behind.
Simon looked closer but didn't see anyone nor any listening device on his ear.
'He must be a mad Priest.' Simon thought, even more amused by the Priest's theatrics.
Suddenly the Priest left the River naked, and came back with some bones tied in bundles and a stick.
In a clear voice he spoke, he spoke so loud that Simon could hear him clearly from the bridge where he stood, he could hear every letter.
"For your extravagant lifestyle and adoration for your wealth, so shall you be stripped of it all and laid bare as I am in this River. As you've harmed and looked at I the servant of god in amusement, so shall my god do to you."
The words sent a chill up Simon's spine and his usual unbothered smirk broke.
Suddenly no longer amused nor interested in the Priest, he left the River to his mansion.
That was a year ago and in just a year, he had lost all his wealth, including those gained by his father and family.
From a multi billionaire to a beggar now in dire need of a dollar to use to survive the night and all these happened in the span of a year.
A chill woke Simon up from his reverie of memories. It was Christmas Eve, although no snow this year and to that Simon was grateful.
He didn't know he would survive a snow filled night with his only shelter being under the park bench and his only sources of warmth being the clothes on his body and some newspapers he took from the trash.
From underneath the park bench, he saw a clear view of the north star and he remembered an old saying of how it could grant wishes.
It was a long shot, he was skeptical, it only happened in dreams, yet he had nothing else to do than to wish and to hope.
His wish wasn't something he had to think twice about, it was something he has always wished for since he landed on the streets three months ago. He wished to turn back the wheels of time and stop his idiotic self from throwing the goods in the river that day.
After making the wish, re-ensuring the safety of his coins from begging during the day, he closed his eyes and hoped for morning to come faster, so at least the chill of the cold night would be gone.
Simon opened his eyes and already knew something was different. For one he was on a bed, and he had on silk pajamas.
He had heard of hunger bringing illusions but this felt too vivid.
He pinched his skin hard, hoping it wasn't a dream.
He pinched even harder, trying to wake himself up early and get the good begging spot at the front of the road.
After numerous pinches and a sore red mark on his hand, Simon had understood and accepted that this was reality.
Somehow he had come back, waking up from the wicked dream of poverty.
He checked the calendar and saw it was Wednesday, a market day.
He usually went to buy goods at the market today, although after knowing what was to come if and after he carried on with his usual habit of buying and dumping.
His plan was simple and foolproof, he won't give himself a space for error by simply not going to the market.
Today, he was going to walk his dog in the park and enjoy the beautiful poverty free day.
At the park with his Golden Retriever, Simon was filled with joy at his second chance at life, he was all smiles as he walked his dog around people who his status and money would never allow them to meet normally. Regardless, today Simon cared not about status or finances.
It was a good day.
They stayed in the park till evening and on the way back, Simon walked past some beggar's.
He spared them no glance, walking quicker as he didn't want to be reminded of his past.
"Sir, Sir. Please can you spare a dollar?" One of the beggars asked, coming forward to stop Simon in his tracks.
Simon began moving sideways, trying to lead his agitated dog away from the man.
"Sir please, just a dollar?" This man asked again, determined to get the dollar from him.
Simon took a good look at this character and realized he knew him.
It was James, the beggar opposite him that always got dollars when Simon was floated Pences and nickels.
Suddenly, Simon felt anger towards James as he remembered the amount of times James got a dollar from people.
"I don't have one." Simon said grinning at James outstretched hand holding his empty bottle.
"Please sir, Just a dollar. How much does a dollar cost?" James asked, trying to cajole the money out of him.
Simon stood strong though, not backing down.
"I don't have any money right now. Can I pass?" He asked, vexed at James' audacity in stopping him asking for a dollar.
"You can pass Simon." James said smiling.
Samuel stood in shock, if he traveled back in time, James shouldn't know about him.
James stood smiling eerily.
"Not many people get second chances Simon, yet you managed to, you even went back in time and you committed the same mistake."
It then dawned on Simon what had happened, he went down on his knees begging for mercy.
"I'll have to admit, I was amused by your attitude to James. The simplicity of your reason to hate and refuse to give was baffling." James continued smiling as he moved closer.
It didn't look like walking but more of gliding.
As he stood directly in front of the kneeling, begging and sobbing Simon, he spoke one last time.
"You didn't answer so let me tell you how much a dollar cost, the cost was your chance at redemption, embrace your loss. I am god."
Simon opened his eyes and the first person they met was James sitting across him on the street.
It was cold, and his money jar was empty.
With tears in his eyes he lamented on what he had just thrown away, a trip back in time had been wasted.
He noticed a man walking by and with no enthusiasm or energy he raised his jar.
He felt the man's touch on the jar but didn't hear the familiar clink of metal in metal.
Curiously, he took a look inside the jar, and lo and behold, laying in the bottom of the empty jar, was a clean crisp dollar note.
My Instagram page.
