A long time ago, my eighth-grade teacher wrote a quote from someone on the board. It went, "Regret for wasted time is more wasted time."

Back then, those were just words. An anecdote meant to promote thought in a bunch of juvenile children. Of course, none of us thought too deeply about the words, and I doubt my teacher had either. I don’t even remember his name, but he had been, what, 30 back then?

What insights could someone essentially just starting their life possibly have on time and its importance or lack thereof?

My thoughts grew ever more jaded as I gazed up at the thatched roof above me, unable to move my body correctly or so much as turn my head. I’d spent the last week like this, and it was becoming more apparent that I was going stir-crazy.

It didn’t help that my emotions were constantly flip-flopping on me. Like now, I was just sad that I couldn’t move, but now I was feeling thankful to be alive. After all, things could be worse…. I could still be dead.

It felt like just a moment ago, I was alive and hanging out with my best friend, Stanley. He was my only friend, really, but that didn't diminish the importance I placed on our friendship.

After we left high school, he was the only person I tried to stay in contact with. My parents called me antisocial when I was in school, but I was just your average-looking kid who didn't know his place in the world. I preferred games and TV over people and growing up as an only child didn’t help much either.

I talked to people, but they were just school acquaintances, nothing more. I had been content to move through life, acknowledging people and interacting with them but not making any real friends. However, when Senior year rolled around, that all changed when I met Stanley.

We knew of each other back then, but it wasn't like we'd ever talked at length before. We probably only spoke a few words to each other, which made it much weirder when he approached me about joining the Science club.

I was school smart, where I could read, listen to people talk, memorize terms, take a test, and pass it, but by no means was I a genius or overachiever. Besides, knowing science and loving science were two totally different things. So, I politely turned Stanley down after listening to his sales pitch.

I had thought that would be the end of it and he would be on his way, but even after I refused him, Stanley started asking me what appeared to be harmless questions. What do you do after school? Who do you hang with? Do you have a job? Any sports?

Again, I may be book smart, but I wasn’t people smart, so it wasn't until Stanley asked his last question that I finally realized what he was doing. By my admission, I had no reason to turn down his offer.

By the end of lunch that fateful day, I was signed up for the science club and told there would be a meeting after school. And that was where my only true friendship in life started.

I attended that first meeting as I had promised. Afterward, I tried to quit multiple times, but Stanley wouldn’t have it and constantly ensured I attended the meetings. He was the science club's president and wouldn't take no for an answer. To this day, I don’t know what he saw in me, but I'm glad he didn't let me quit.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

And science club hadn't been all that bad. We did little experiments occasionally, but it was mostly a place for budding scientists to talk with like-minded people. There were groups inside the club for every scientific field, such as astronomy, botany, chemistry, and everything else under the sun and beyond.

Stanley’s thing was rocks or geology, if I was being more accurate. His uncle lived in California on a piece of land that was a prominent gold mine in the 1850s. Stanley told me it only took one trip to his uncle’s place as a kid to make him fall in love with everything rock related. His uncle was also a blacksmith, like the old-timey kind that worked with a forge and made specialty items for people. I still vividly remember the cool sword Stanley owned, a real-life sword his uncle crafted for him.

Needless to say, Stanley's summers were much cooler than mine, where I spent the whole time playing Skyrim. While I was inside being a hermit, Stanley was learning about metals from his uncle when he wasn't out panning for gold.

Unlike Stanley, I had no scientific interests. So, I figured I’d spend the time hanging with him since he practically strong-armed me into joining—the best decision of my life.

We parted after graduating high school; he went off to college, but we kept in touch, and I would even chill with him on campus when I could.

Unable to move and left to my thoughts, I almost started tearing up thinking about my friend.

The best moments of my life were spent hanging out with Stanley, and nothing, even how I died, would change that.

It felt like yesterday I turned twenty-three. It was springtime then, and Stanley had plans to go to his uncle's place like he usually did during spring break. Only this time, he offered for me to join him. I was between jobs then and had nothing better to do for my birthday, so I hopped on the chance to blow off some steam with my best friend.

It was fun meeting his uncle. We spent days panning for gold in a small stream, I watched Stanley turn an old railroad spike into a knife, and we got to chill under the stars every night. It was on the fifth day that it happened.

We were down an old mine shaft, looking for quartz seams that might still have traces of gold left. Almost all of the gold had long since been mined away, but according to Stanley and his uncle, there were still a few spots it could be found in small quantities.

After seven hours of swinging a pickaxe, our bags were full of quartz. Of course, we would've gotten less than an ounce of gold overall, but we didn't care about the money; we were mining for the experience anyways.

Suddenly, I started to feel a sense of vertigo, and when I looked at Stanley, he was also tripping over his feet. Then the ground started to shake for real, and we both paled. It was an earthquake, and we were still deep in the mine.

We dropped our gear and ran for the exit. Bits of stone and dust fell from overhead, impacting our mining helmets, and you could hear the old wooden beams creaking under the shifting earth.

The shaking made running difficult, but we were motivated enough to overcome it. My heart beat a mile a minute as we sprinted toward the exit.

But just as we saw the light up ahead, the shaking stopped. The earthquake was over as quickly as it began. But just because the shaking had stopped didn't mean we did. We were still coursing with adrenaline, and we needed a breath of fresh air after such a scare. Plus, neither of us wanted to remain underground after such a thing.

An overwhelming sense of relief came over me as we stepped outside. I remember thinking fresh air never tasted so good.

I was about to high-five Stanley when I heard the sound of splintering wood right behind us.

I don’t remember what made me do it, but I shoved Stanley with everything I had. The last thing I saw as the side of the mountain fell on me was my friend rolling to safety.

…..

I spent what felt like an eternity being crushed until the pressure suddenly vanished, and I could breathe again. Then, retching a wad of bile from my throat, I took the largest breath I ever remember and let out a triumphant scream.

My senses felt muted, and before I knew what was happening, I could vaguely feel myself being quickly wiped down with a rough wet towel and wrapped in an itchy blanket. I felt like Play-Doh being molded by giant hands and couldn’t even struggle if I tried. My muscle control was everywhere, and I could only flail inside the covering.

People were talking around me, but everything sounded muffled and wrong. I couldn't understand anything anybody was saying. I tried to ask what was wrong with me and if my friend was ok, only to produce another wailing screech.

I had no idea what was happening, so when floating text appeared in front of my face, I froze in confusion.

[Initializing Complete]

LV: 1 Experience: 0/100

Health: 80/80 Stamina: 33/33 Manna: 50/50

Vitality: 8

Endurance: 1

Strength: 1

Agility: 1

Senses: 3

Mind: 26

Magic: 5

Clarity: 1

Skills:

At the time, I had no idea what the hell I was looking at.

I realized that I had died and been reborn only later, but thinking about that had to wait. As a baby, I had almost no strength, and when I felt tired, it was almost impossible to keep my eyes open.

A new world awaited me, but for now, I would sleep and dream of what would come next. Because hell if I knew, anything was better than staring at a roof all day.