Guardian
written by: Carol Bennetts
Horatio sat at the large table that served him and his mom for meals, homework, and leisure activities, not that there were many of the latter. On the weekends, they played Rummy 500, but sometimes she was too tired and needed to catch up on her sleep.
During the week, his mom worked as an oncology ward nurse on the night shift, and he ate his favorite dinner of microwaved macaroni and cheese. In the hours he was by himself, he did a minimum amount of homework and carved tiny figures into thin sections of scrap wood with a tool his mother found at a yard sale. He chiseled scenes of fierce animals, flying warriors, and wand-waving wizards. In fact, his mother had named him after a hero in a novel she loved from her childhood, Horatio Hornblower, who rose from poverty to become a brave British naval officer. Horatio took a lot of ribbing from his friends, but he was just grateful he was not named Hornblower.
At middle school, the only class he enjoyed was art, and that was only for an hour, twice a week. His backpack held several spiral notebooks, and his teacher constantly reminded him to “stop scribbling.”
The digital clock on the oven showed 9:00 pm. He was having a tough time keeping his eyes open. The P.E. teacher made him run extra laps in the gymnasium as punishment for not taking his gym clothes home for a long-needed wash and promised more laps if he did not bring back clean clothes tomorrow. The laundry room was in the basement of the apartment complex, accessible by a dimly lit set of stairs where cobwebs collected in corners, so Horatio figured the extra exercise would help him get in shape. Switching on the lamp in his mother’s small bedroom, he turned down the blankets for her.
Going into the bathroom they shared, he brushed his teeth and put on his worn pajamas. He looked into the mirror and saw a tall, light brown-haired eleven-year-old with freckles scattered across his nose. His mom told him he looked a lot like his dad, but Horatio was only two years old when his dad died. Horatio relied on a half dozen photos his mom placed around the apartment to remember how he had looked like. Since he decided to go to bed early, he pulled out the already made-up sofa bed in the small living room.
Lying down on the stiff mattress, he wondered what she was doing. He always worried about her working the night shift, but she told him she was perfectly safe.
He turned off the lamp by the sofa. The sounds of cars rushing past the apartment complex filtered through the living room windows. Thinking about his etchings, he vowed to find more scraps of wood so he could continue his work at the kitchen table. Its wooden surface was unblemished except for a natural knot hole that looked like a creepy, dark eye. The table was large and sturdy, an antique, according to his mom. He asked her where it came from, but she would only say that it was a gift from a family member before he was born.
He awoke with a start to a sound like wind rustling through trees and, turning over on his side, he saw a bright light shining from the kitchen table. The oven clock displayed 4:00 am, but the illumination was coming from within the knothole. Horatio approached the table warily. As he bent over and looked directly at the knot, an image suddenly appeared in the illuminated circle.
His mom was in the hospital parking garage, reaching into her purse for the car keys. A dark figure walked slowly towards her, and Horatio’s heart raced. His mom was in danger! Grabbing his carving tool, he quickly carved an image of a large German Shepherd directly into the table, as the sound of roaring winds became deafening.
“Watch out, mom!” He tried to shout but could only croak.
He looked again into the knothole. A fierce, barking German Shepherd approached the dark figure in the garage and snapped at him. The man fled, with the dog chasing after him as Horatio watched his mom get into her car and leave.
Horatio stared at the small carving of the dog and watched it fade until the surface was smooth again. The light and the sound of the wind quickly dissipated. Standing, he backed away from the table. Was he dreaming? Looking around the room, he reassured himself it was the apartment he shared with his mom and that she would come home soon to get him ready for school. He ran back to his bed and covered himself completely with the faded comforter. He closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep.
“Horatio, wake up! It’s time to get ready for school. Would you like pancakes or waffles?” asked his mom.
He sat up and looked at the oven clock. 7:00 am. He surveyed the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Walking over to the kitchen table where his mom had placed a small glass of milk and a banana, he looked at the table. The surface remained unblemished. He shook his head. He must have dreamed it all.
“Waffles, I guess,” he told his mother. She smiled, pulled a box out of the freezer, and popped a couple into the toaster.
“How was the hospital last night?”
“Oh, you know, the usual busy night.”
He nodded, relieved. She put the waffles in front of him, and he added butter and syrup. He took a bite and chewed slowly.
“But there was one strange incident.”
He sat up straight, dropping his fork.
“I thought of you. I saw a beautiful German Shepherd in the parking garage chasing a man through the garage. It was an odd sight at that time of the morning. I know how much you like German Shepherds.”
Horatio put his fork on his napkin, and his mom looked at him.
“Aren’t you hungry, son?”
“Uh, no, not really. Besides, I have P.E. today, and we are, uh, doing track, and I’d better not eat too much.”
“Running track in December?”
She shook her head. She did not understand all the changes in education these days. Things were much simpler when she went to school. Now there was so much technology, and she just couldn’t keep up with it all. She wished they could afford a computer, but she was saving every penny to get a puppy for Horatio for Christmas. She hoped to save enough for supplies and a few vet visits.
“Okay, son. But please eat your banana and drink your milk.”
Horatio forced both down and went into the bathroom to get ready for school. Dressing quickly in the cool room, he brushed his hair and teeth and washed his hands. He needed some time to make sense of this. One thing he knew: sleep would not come easily tonight.
As the day wore on, Horatio continued to look up at the large-faced clock in the classroom, wishing for the time to pass. He avoided trouble by keeping his sketch book in his backpack and focusing on the teachers. He heard little of what they said, but knew he looked attentive. His teacher gave him a funny look, noticing that he was not his usual distracted self. Finally, the dismissal bell rang, and he grabbed his backpack and hurried to the bus loading porch. The ride home dragged on, and he ignored the jibes and name-calling from his aggressive peers, finally getting off at his stop along with several other apartment residents.
Horatio turned and walked up the iron stairs to the apartment. Letting himself in, he bolted the door behind him. Feeling restless, he got out his homework and sat down at the kitchen table. 4:30 pm. He was anxious about the approaching evening.
After dinner, Horatio washed his spoon and glass and put them in the plastic drying rack by the sink. As he walked back from his shower into the small living room, he felt a chill despite his flannel pajamas and worn slippers. The sofa bed beckoned, so he sat down and turned on a small table lamp. He tried to read his favorite Harry Potter book, but he was too distracted to immerse himself in his magical world. Turning out the light, he closed his eyes.
He awoke with a start and looked at the oven clock. 4:15 am. The table surface was illuminated by the same golden light as before, and the wind roared. Racing over to it, he peered into the knothole. His mother was standing by her car with a gas nozzle in her hand.
“No, mom, don’t stop for gas now,” he cried aloud.
A figure approached her from the shadows and spoke to her. Horatio couldn’t hear a thing, but he saw a frightened expression on his mother’s face. She backed up towards the car door, and a man moved forward. She reached for her door, and the man grabbed her arm. Horatio panicked and grabbed his stylus, rapidly carving the outlines of the German Shepherd into the table.
Through the knothole, he observed the dog bounding up to the two adults, barking madly at the stranger, who released his mom’s arm and ran out of sight, dog in pursuit. Horatio saw his mom quickly get into the car and drive off. He dropped his stylus on the table and clasped his hands in prayer. When his mother entered the apartment, he was in the same position.
“Horatio? Why are you sitting there? Did you have a bad dream?”
She rushed over to him and hugged him. He shivered, so she turned on the kitchen light and looked carefully at him.
“Something has been bothering you these last couple of days. Are you in trouble at school?”
“No, Mom, I’m fine. I was just worried about you. I’m sorry about the table. I won’t do it again.”
She looked at the table with its smooth wooden surface.
“I don’t understand. What did you do?”
Horatio looked at the tabletop. It was unmarked.
“Nothing, mom.”
She smiled at him. “I have a big surprise for you!”
He looked at her expectantly.
“It’s an early Christmas present. I’ve already cleared it with our landlord.”
She walked to the front door, went outside for a minute, and came back in holding a leash. A large German Shepherd stared at Horatio.
“Meet our new family member,” his mom explained. “One of my cancer patients passed away last week. He used to show me photos of his dog and tell me how much he missed his pet. His daughter informed him that the dog kept getting loose from her backyard and that she was afraid that he’d get run over. I’ve seen the dog around the hospital for the last couple of days, always running away when I try to approach him. On my way home this morning, I got a call from the daughter. She said that her father wanted me to have his dog because he knew I would give him a loving home, so I stopped by her house on my way here.”
The silent dog looked at Horatio, who felt the dog saw straight through him. Suddenly, the dog wagged his tail and smiled. Or at least it looked like a smile. Horatio was not sure since the dog had such an enormous tongue. The German Shepherd approached Horatio, and his mom released the leash. Boy and dog embraced, and it was hard to tell who was happier. Mom smiled.
“So, what are you going to name this handsome guy? The daughter told me his name but, in all the excitement, I forgot. He is such an angel. It’s as though he was looking out for me.”
Horatio thought for a moment. Guardian Angel. He smiled.
“Let’s call him Guardian.”
“Perfect,” agreed his mom, who did not notice that the Shepherd winked at Horatio.
- Guardian - April 24, 2026
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