A Story About Nothing

by ponyartist

After Thoughts

The stallion lit a cigarette as he stood in his bathroom turned make shift dark room. The smell of photo chemicals assaulting his nose as the dim light strained his eyes. He stared at the roll of film he had developed smoke falling from his lips as he exhales. He smiled happy to see he still knew how to pull it off. The photos were sexually explicated, vulgar, and offensive; in short they were perfect. He had already picked out the ten or so frames he would have made into photos for display. Still though something crawled beneath his skin as he sat there staring at the strips of film hanging from the shower rod. Only a few days ago he doubted his ability to come back, but now it all came back to him. He hungered for more after all in his prime he was an artist of multiple disciplines and there was only one place he could go the feed that hunger. It was time to stop wading in the shallows and head back to the deep end. It was time to go back to Cantorlot.