"I've heard of private school and state school. But what is boarding school?" asked a six-year-old Philip. He and his mother were on the way to a Catholic boarding school around the outskirts of their town.

"Boarding school is a place where students live inside the school area. They have their own room, called a dorm, and during holidays the students and teachers would return to their families." his mother replied.

"Living at school? That sounds weird. Did you go to boarding school?"

"No, Philip. I went to a state school."

The car pulled over in front of a huge, stainless steel gate. The school compound was hidden behind the thick brick walls. On the left wall hung an old sign, which was repainted a week earlier.

St. John's Boarding School

The gates opened wide to reveal a magnificent campus. The lawn was manicured, there was a beautiful fountain and the building itself looked beautifully old.

The car entered and stopped right in front of the carpeted staircase. Mother and son got off the car and the driver opened the trunk. A warm-looking lady waited for them at the staircase, wearing a tailored blue dress and classy flat shoes. She approached them and welcomed them to the school.

"Greetings, madam. I'm Ms Diane, the headmistress of this school. May I know you?" the lady greeted.

"I'm Mrs Deering, and I'm here to enroll my son, Philip. He'll be Grade One this year," his mother answered.

The two conversed as the driver loaded the bags off the car. After the bags were loaded off, two men came and carried the luggage on their backs. They then walked through the small gate and disappeared. Meanwhile, the three of them went inside the main building.

The interior was far more beautiful than the exterior, and the floor was made of hardwood. Classical paintings adorned the school walls, which were painted a bright shade of white. The front desk was occupied by three women, who were all busy. The woman on the left gave Philip a form to complete and a biro containing dark blue ink. When Philip and his mother completed the form, they gave it to Headmistress Diane. She then gave it to the woman on the right. The woman on the right processed the form and gave a set of twelve notebooks and a key. The woman in the middle gave six sets of formal uniforms and a set of PE attire. Philip carried the books while his mother carried the uniforms and the key. Headmistress Diane then led them to her office, where they further discussed the enrollment.

After all was finished, Mrs Deering bade her son goodbye and left the school. Headmistress Diane led him to his dormitory, which was located at another building they called a "boarding house."

On the way there, they passed by the library and the school computer lab. When they went outside, they strolled past the school garden and the school playground. Up ahead was a creme building made of cement. They entered through a glass door and got to the third floor by a newly-renovated elevator.

What they saw on the third floor was a wide corridor. There was a door after every five yards worth of wall space. Metal sheets were nailed to the top of the door, indicating the room number. The place was lit by yellow light bulbs, which were fixed to the ceiling instead of being attached to a hanging lamp. The walls were a bit dull, painted a boring shade of prison grey.

Headmistress Diane led them him to room 312, a room not far from the fire exit. Using the key, she unlocked the door and showed Philip his dorm, where he will stay for the next twelve years. All the walls of his room were painted in neutral, pastel colors. There was a large cabinet to stow his belongings, a desk and chair for him to work on, a half-filled bookshelf, a single bed with a pillow and blanket and a modern lamp hanging from the ceiling. There was a small window next to the bed, which was draped in light creme curtains. The bathroom had a sink, shower, toilet and two shelves to hold toiletries. Overall, the room was nice.

The two men who carried Philip's baggage suddenly appeared out of the blue. They dropped his suitcases at the door and then left. Headmistress Diane then helped him to arrange his belongings. After that, he was left alone in his room.

It was past eight o'clock at night, Philip's normal bedtime. He already prepared for school and was dressed in pajamas. He sat on his bed; prayed a brief bedtime prayer and slept. Suddenly, his lamp turned on. Strange, it wasn't even plugged in. Or was it? Even then, no one flicked the light switch. He then scanned the entire room to find someone hiding in the shadows. Philip grabbed a flashlight and shone it at the shadow.

"Who's there?" Philip asked curiously. He directed his flashlight at all the corners of the dormitory. Nothing. Philip turned off his flashlight and got up to turn off the lamp. Just then, he felt a warm breath and heard faint footsteps coming from behind him.

It was the man!

Philip was overwhelmed with fear, walking backwards away from him. The man kept on moving forward, however.

"Relax, Philip. Do not be afraid, for it is I," the man said. Philip was still afraid.

"Go away! Please, don't hurt me!" Philip yelled, shooing him.

"I promise that I would never hurt you, Philip. I wouldn't do such a thing."

"Please, don't come closer!"

Philip was cornered, utterly defenseless. There was nothing else he could do. The man knelt down on his left knee and used his right fingers to trace the outline of Philip's face. There was something different about his touch. It felt like he was just energy, yet he felt solid at the same time. He could feel him. Philip was expecting that he would hurt him, whether it was a slap or a punch or a kick or by words. But no. He was gentle.

"Why would you think I would ever harm you, Philip? I stood next to you when you witnessed your father's burial, and I didn't harm you," he said soothingly. Philip then realized that the man wasn't a bad person, but a good one. Philip got up and laid down on his bed.

"But who are you?" he asked.

"I am your Watchful Guardian. Your Protector. When you need me most, I will be there for you."

"I don't understand."

"There will be times that you will need me, Philip. You can call me just by muttering a phrase."

"But what is the phrase?" Philip asked anxiously. The man stretched his right arm above his shoulder, his hand as flat as paper.

"Oh My Protector, I Summon Thee!"

The man vanished into thin air, leaving no trace. The lights were off; the moon shone brightly; and Philip slept soundly.