Garden Children

         Outside of the red brick walls, Ursula could hear children’s bare feet running on the cobblestones of the old city, and their laughter carrying over the wall in high pitch squeals.  The carefree and beauty of childhood, Ursula wanted to join them, and run on the streets and squeal with joy.  Her aunt would never allow her to leave the high brick wall of the garden, and Ursula would never be able to climb over the pointy fleur de lis on the black iron fence.
         Ursula had no friends, so she made friends in the garden with the moss covered angel in the fountain, that was black with dead leaves from Autumn, and the tall rose bushes that bloomed around the ivory and green, skinny house on Harmony Street. Ursula roamed the garden, smelled the roses, kicked the gravel on the path, and sang songs to her fountain cherub.
Harmony Street was such an ironic name for this house in the Lower Garden District of New Orleans.  The neighborhood got its name from the elaborate gardens the Americans cultivated in their Italianate houses in Uptown New Orleans.  Ursula’s house was far from harmonious since her parents died of the influenza, and her Aunt Sarah came to live with her. 
Aunt Sarah volunteered last October, “I will care for Ursula, poor dear. Orphaned at eight.”
Now with the first warm breezes of Spring, Ursula longed to play with the neighborhood children, but Aunt Sarah said a stern, “No, you can play in the garden, alone!”
The sun had begun to set, and the sky was a fiery pink when Ursula walked in the garden to visit her cherub after the rainstorm.
Ursula sang a song,
“Two little girls in blue, lad,
Two little girls in blue.
They were two sisters, we were two brothers,
And learned to love the two.”
Ursula started to dance around the fountain in wide swirling turns, that her brown ringlets bounced, and her yellow taffeta skirts swirled around her.
Suddenly the sweet whistle of a sparrow chirping, caught Ursula’s attention, it was singing her song.
The sparrow swooped down on the gravel and grabbed a worm, and dashed into the azalea bush, destroying pink buds.  Ursula ran towards the bush, just as the boy emerged, and she met him face to face staring at her with his black eyes without pupils.  He wore a white linen shirt with a wide, lace collar.  His short pants were green velvet like his shoes, and the pants were tied at his knees with a black ribbons.  His breath smelled like lavender, and honey.
“Hello,” he smiled.
“Who are you?” asked Ursula.
“I brought you something,” he opened his white hand and showed her the wriggling worm.
Ursula studied the worm, it was interesting to see it so close.  He dropped it, and stepped on it as the worm exploded and its grayish insides were smeared on the gravel.  Ursula gasped, and he kissed her cheek and ran away.
Ursula ran behind him, but he disappeared.  Then, a rustling in oak near the porch,drew her eyes upward as he pounced down on the soft green grass.
“Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“What’s your name?”
“Do you want a friend?”  he demanded.
“Yes, but I don’t want to kill worms!”
“What does that angel tell you?”
“Nothing, I tell her all my wishes.”
“You never hear her talk?”
“No.”
“Well, Maybe you’re  not listening.”
He took Ursula’s hand and brought her over to the fountain.  The sun was completely gone, and the first moonlight covered the stones in the garden, and the cherub glowed silver.
“Shhh, quiet,”  The boy squeezed her hand tightly, so she wouldn’t run.
There was a low hum, and then the voice was like a high note on the piano, and Ursula’s eyes grew wide as the voice said, “Ursula, Ursula, come join us.”
“I hear her!” Ursula yelled out, happy tears ran down her face.
“Shhh,”  hushed the boy.
Ursula drew closer to the stone child, and she heard it again, the song about the girls in blue, and Ursula danced again, with the boy following her.
Aunt Sarah stood on the back porch, and called out in the darkness, “Ursula!”
The boy grabbed her hand, and ran to the gate.
The boy’s eyes were white and silver in the darkness, “Do you want to come with us?”
“Who?”
“The children without souls.”
“Where?”
“Yes or No?”
Ursula saw Aunt Sarah with her crumpled face, and her pinched eyebrows, and smiled, “Yes.”
The boy smiled, “My name is Paddock.”
“Paddock,” Ursula almost whispered.
Paddock took Ursula’s long, thin wrist and held it to his cheek, and her pulse beat slowly next to his face, warming his cold skin, and making his face glow a warm red light.  He kissed her palm, and sank his fangs into her wrist. Ursula flinched just once as her blood filled his mouth with her sweet, innocent essence like nectar to a bee.
Paddock, offered her his wrist, and she pulled away, but soon her mouth was filled with a honey that yearn to taste Paddock’s blood and her teeth scraped her lips as her fangs emerged.  In seconds her fangs pierced his skin that tore like a peach skin, and she drew in a mouthful of rich, syrupy blood that made her gasp as the moist, thick blood coated her throat with warmth and sweetness.
Ursula grabbed Paddock hand and in seconds, they leapt over the red brick fence.  The cherub sparkled in the moonlight, as a mist surrounded it, and the angelic faced child wrapped in a gown appeared through the gate.
“My cherub!” Ursula cried
The cherub shook her head as the moss revealed her golden curls, and she took Ursula’s hand, and said, “Now, we can play until morning!”
“What happens in the morning?” Ursula asked, curious.
Paddock squeezed her hand, “Your Aunt will have another beautiful stone cherub for her garden.”