#8 (It's been so long, I know, so please don't judge me for this)
Inside the locket was an image, a man of some sort; his face seemed eerily familiar to me, but I wasn't sure how. His eyes were as cold and lifeless as mine, like two metal marbles. I couldn't stop staring at it; with every second, I thought that he might be me, but was brought back to reality every time. I decided to keep it with me, so that I may learn what this may hold.
As the darkness was scattered by the dawn's heavenly rays, I slipped the locket around my neck and decided to take a walk, to clear my slanted mind. There was a small park nearby, full of life and people, which I thought would help me to see straight. How wrong I was; oh, how wrong, HOW wrong I was.
As I walked past the luxuriant fountain, with arching jets of flowing water and a vibrant glow about it, I saw a man in it. He was cleaning part of the exquisite marble sculptures, carved into the shape of Cyrene and her grieving son Aristaeus. I had heard of this story from a friend of mine, who was a classics scholar: Cyrene comforted her son after he had grieved on the shores of the Peneus and helped him to find a seer to explain why his bees had died. Wish my mother were still around to comfort me; if it hadn't been for that fatal accident...
I woke back up to the reality that I was in, and looked for that man who had been cleaning the fountain. He was lying face down in its waters, no movement. I guess I missed the bell's chime...