Yesterday, I found him face down in the garden. He was lying face down in the flowers, and very still. Slowly, I approached him, and rolled him over. He looked so familiar, like somebody that was very close to me, but I couldn't quite place it. I pulled his body from the foliage, and laid him on the stone path. Nobody else was around, so I knelt in the roses next to him and searched for a wallet. No luck. It was driving me crazy; I knew him, very well in fact, but I couldn't remember who he was. I brushed my hand through his short blonde hair, and then lifted an eyelid; grey eyes were what I found. I hadn't bothered to ponder how or why he got here, or even why he was laying unconcious in the garden. I gently shook him in an attempt to wake him up, and got no response. Water might wake him up, so I left him on the path and headed to the fountain in the center of the garden. Upon reaching the fountain, I gathered up an old rusted steel bucket with some water inside and ventured back to him. The scenery is beautiful, so I look around, and with closer inspection, I found where he had come from. The garden was in the back of an old gothic cathedral, the type you see in history textbooks; stained glass windows, gargoyles, arched doorways, the whole nine yards. I looked up and saw the bell hanging inside the top spire, and a rope swaying in the breeze from the bell. Apparently, he had tried to hang himself from the bell and failed. I set the water down, realizing he wasn't going to wake up, especially not after that fall. I proceed back to him, and kneel again in the roses. I spoke aloud to him, not expecting an answer, obviously. Why did you want to die? I wanted to look for identifying marks on him, because that might help me figure out who he was. I lifted his right pant leg, and then I lost my breath - there was a dragon tattoo on his leg, and that's when I discovered this boy was me.
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