If I could Change The World

"If I could change the world, I would make everyone worship me." Those were the exact words I had once spoken. I know I had sounded conceited. Well, let me enucleate further...

It all began on Christmas Eve when I made a wish. I woke up early that day when my alarm clock rang at a quarter past eight. I went downstairs and everyone was already in the kitchen having breakfast. I could smell the crisp scent of cinnamon and hot chocolate lingering in the air, such a scrumptious breakfast.

I entered the kitchen and sat next to my brother, pouring myself some hot chocolate and grabbing a cinnamon bun. Just as I was about sink my teeth into the tantalizing pastry, an elbow past my face and a mug of scalding hot chocolate went all over the front of my jacket and slowly trickled down onto the floor with a steady dripping sound. I turned to my right and caught a glimpse of my brother's face with a derisive grin on it. He quickly dropped his grin as he saw me looking, turned away and hastily asked my grandfather to pass the butter. I sat there, dripping with hot liquid and gave him the nastiest and most impertinent glower that I could possibly muster. I saw that look and I knew that he did it on purpose, my brother had always been a royal pain. I swallowed back my animosity, excused myself from the breakfast table and grudgingly trudged my way up the staircase to change. I took each step as forcefully as I could, picturing my brother's derisive grin underneath it.

Upstairs, I was engaged myself to grumbling about my hot chocolate accident. My brother ought to worship me rather than treat me like I was his personal slave. If I could change the world, I would make everyone worship me. They would adore me and treat me I was their god, I thought, wishing it would actually happened.

I woke up suddenly with a start. I looked around my bedroom, it was very dark, my alarm clock showed half past five in the morning. I got out of bed and peered between the curtains. The sky was a deep purple shade with swirls of orange nestling in between. The mist hung heavily over the streets, which were dark and deserted, almost phantasmagoric. Occasionally a cat would streak across the hard pavement like a phantom. The wind howled between the lampposts, rustling up leaves and pieces of candy wrapper and paper. There were wonderful sounds of fountains playing in the air.

I stopped glancing around for a moment and frowned thoughtfully. The last time I commemorated, there were no fountains in the neighborhood. I listened carefully and there again! I heard the gushing sound of water. Still frowning, I headed downstairs and out of the house, into the cold street.

After I past a few houses, I stopped and my jaw fell open in veneration. Scrupulously, there was a fountain just before the junction. It had a magnificent live-size statue of some lady made out of gold and the details were frugally carved. It looked almost realistic, like she could just lift her foot and step down from the fountain. Underneath her golden feet, were rushing and gushing waters and by the feet of the fountain, were hundreds and hundreds of bouquets of fresh flowers. I took several steps back from the fountain and looked up at the statue, wondering who was the statue supposed to resemble and at the same time, marveling in the splendid architecture. I had a clear view of the statue's face. What I saw made me stumble back in shock and I tripped over and landed on the side of the pathway. I picked myself up, gingerly brushing dirt off myself and stared at the face of the statue, mesmerized and bewildered. From the long hair to the spectacles, to that very nose and very set of eyes, it was my face! My face! What was it doing there! I blinked several times and rubbed my eyes and the face still remained there. Nothing I did from pinching my arm to splashing cold water on my face got rid of that image.

After shock registered off, I couldn't help but admit that I did look spectacular on the fountain. It was a very artful piece of architecture and it suited the neighborhood well indeed. I was startled when I noticed that the sun was slowly rising above the horizon, it must be almost seven in the morning now. My parents would probably throw a fit if they found me out of bed and in the middle of the neighborhood at this hour. But, they would probably throw an even bigger fit when they saw the fountain. I rushed back to the house and hastily shut the door behind me.

I headed up the stairs and on the landing, I saw my brother standing there with his arms folded. I groaned inwardly, I knew this was coming, my brother would be spilling the beans to my parents that I was out of the house early in the morning and God knows what ridiculous cocktail story he would concoct this time. The last time I arrived home late because I missed the bus, my brother had concocted some preposterous anecdote that I was out with a gang of drug addicts, smoking pot behind the school. Of course, my parents had the brain not to believe in such a shaggy dog story.

"What are you doing out of the house so early?" he asked, leaning against the balustrade.

"I went for a walk," I replied curtly and pushed past him to get into my bedroom. He said nothing and went downstairs.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my bedroom door and there stood, my brother with a tray of breakfast in his hands. I was alarmed, my brother never ever even passed so much as a remote control to me, let alone bring breakfast to me.

"Here's your breakfast," he said, placing the tray by my bedside.

"What are you doing? Did you poison that? Is there cyanide in there?" I looked at him and suspiciously sniffed at the plate of eggs and bacon.

"Why would I do that?" came his reply. "I won't want to murder a god, it's not like I can anyway," he added and left the room.

I blinked in surprise at his retort and shrugged it off as I ate my breakfast. That afternoon, I decided to take a walk for a breath of fresh air. Once I stepped out of the house, this crowd comes rushing towards me and some even fell on their knees as they saw me. I was perplexed, who were they and what were they doing.

"O' gracious one! You are our god!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"We adore you!" another shouted.

I shook my head at them in disgrace. What a bunch of drunks, they must have had one too many glasses of wine at their Christmas parties and decided to pull a prank on such a poor victim as me. I waved my hands at them to get out of my way and too my amazement, they parted like the Red Sea. I thanked them for letting me through and carried on walking. They went on all fours and began kissing the grounds I walked on. I looked back at them in stupefaction as they walked behind me, following me like they were my disciples or something. I soon learnt that they were worshipping me as their god, they had built golden statues of me and had shrines where they gave offerings to me all over the world. My face had appeared on newspapers and televisions as the "god who walks the earth". It was obvious that they took this whole deal with worshipping me very seriously.

Now I am stuck with hundreds of poor people who believed that I was a god and worshipped me. They showered the ground I walked on with rose petals and kissed it. They bowed and fell on their knees when they saw me. They even begged me for forgiveness and asked for my blessings. It was a truly formidable experience for me. Imagine, everywhere you went, you had a crowd trailing behind you, like they were your shadow or something. It's frightful I tell you.

Well, if only I could change the world, so they would stop worshipping me. Well, unfortunately I can't unless another wish strikes again. So, I am terribly sorry how those people have to go to hell just for worshipping the wrong god. Thousands of sincere apologies for making that wish in the first place, I hope they forgive me. Well, on the bright side, my brother still carries breakfast to me. So I shall just sit back, relax and let the whole world treat me like a god.

(1500 words)

PS: This is some essay I rote recently to submit for some Dublin essay competition. Boring...I was forced to write this...