Morning, Commander

Darkness.

Total, heavy darkness.

Then... a tiny, distant light blinks.

I squint, trying to focus.

A blinding neon streak screams straight toward my face.

Not a light beam. A plasma cannon volley.

My brain kicks into high gear.

I’m strapped into the cockpit of a starship, dropped right into the chaotic center of a raging galactic battle.

Laser fire tears through the black void.

Our Dreadnought, the Vanguard, jerks violently to dodge a barrage of incoming torpedoes.

Right in front of my windshield—

A massive enemy flight ship bursts into a brilliant ball of fire, torn apart by our fighters.

But there’s no time to celebrate.

A violent impact rocks the entire cockpit.

The console explodes in a shower of sparks. Red emergency lights start blazing, casting a blood-red glow over everything.

"Left wing heavily damaged! Shields at ten percent, Captain!" my first officer yells over the screeching sirens.

I yank the flight stick.

A persistent enemy fighter is glued to my tail, refusing to let up, throwing another volley of lasers that chip away at my remaining hull.

"Divert all remaining power to the rear thrusters!" I yell, desperately fighting the controls.

I roll the ship. Dodge left. Dodge right.

But the controls completely freeze.

Trapped in an uncontrollable spin, the ship hurtles blindly through the smoke.

I look up just in time to see a massive, jagged asteroid dead ahead.

Screaming toward it.

No way to stop.

"NOOO!"

I brace for impact.

A deafening, metallic ring echoes through the void.

I blink.

The cosmic battlefield instantly evaporates into a warm haze of morning sunlight.

I am not a galaxy-saving commander.

I’m just a nine-year-old boy, tangled in a mess of blankets, staring at comic book posters taped to my bedroom wall.

On my nightstand, the alarm clock is violently rattling against the wood. Its little metal hammer is working overtime.

I groan, slamming my hand down on the button.

I let out a dramatic sigh.

Monday.

The weekend is officially dead. It’s time for school.

The warmth of the bed is begging me to stay...

But if I don't move fast, I’ll miss the school bus.

With a sudden burst of energy, I kick the blankets off and swing my feet onto the floor.

Time to take on the day.

I sprint down the hallway.

I coast across the slick wooden floor in my socks before skidding straight into the kitchen.

The house is alive with its usual Monday morning rhythm.

Dad is sitting at the dining table, completely hidden behind a towering newspaper, calmly sipping his tea.

Mom moves with practiced efficiency between the stove and the counter.

The sweet scent of maple syrup and slightly overdone toast fills the air.

"Look who finally decided to join the living world," Mom teases.

She sets a plate of fluffy pancakes down right in front of me.

"I was about to send a search party up there, Dave."

"I was saving the galaxy, Mom," I say proudly, immediately shoving a massive mouthful of pancake into my face.

"My ship got cornered by an alien armada. I almost took out their main flight ship before my controls jammed."

Dad lowers his newspaper just enough to flash a warm, amused smile over his glasses.

"Well, Captain, make sure you channel some of that tactical genius into your math quiz today."

I grin, practically vibrating in my chair.

Back then, everything felt effortless.

As an introverted kid, school wasn't something I stressed about.

I did just enough to get by so I could retreat into what really mattered: video games, hanging out with my small circle of friends, and letting my imagination run wild.

My inner world was completely safe. I was perfectly happy in it.

I had no idea that a few years down the line, the world outside would start pushing back.

That it would gradually chip away at that quiet peace...

Until getting out of bed felt like a battle I didn't want to fight anymore.