Summary The memories are gone. I got rid of them myself, but they say not knowing history makes one doomed to repeat it. Now it's happening again. Everything i worked so hard to destroy... It's coming back. In reverse.

Welcome to Re-versed Imagery! This story is incredibly fun to write, and I hope that you'll enjoy it as much as I do. Please see my deviantart page for the illustrations of most of the characters.

The Little Dragon is still ongoing, however it is nearly impossible to write because while there are emotions in the story, I find it hard to be emotional. Thus I am a happy Goth most of the time, unlike some of my friends.

As I said, I hope you enjoy this story, so without further ado, on we go!

Footsteps used to ring loudly in this place. Now, they were muffled by concrete. This place used to be gleaming with white marble and glass. Fingers ran along a wall, releasing cascades of dust to the ground. The once proud palace stood dully in the sunlight. Stopping in the center of the entrance hall, where a battered and bloodied rag doll had been carried through non-existent glass-paneled doors and thrown into nothingness. Something hung in the air. There was a smell, but nothing to cause it. There was silence, but sound. Another sniff; another listen. Knees collapse and tears wet the ground. The smell isn’t musty or moldy.

It’s just death.

I wasn't sure if I should combine this chapter and the next, but since they happen at different times I won't.

Please tell me what you think of the beginning!