//------------------------------// // Page 143 // Story: Diary of *illegibly smudged* // by Thought Prism //------------------------------// *illegibly smudged* Between my efforts deciphering the layers upon layers upon layers within the Book and taking care of *illegibly smudged*, I've had barely any time to write. Keeping this matter a secret from my wife has also proven difficult. I can only deflect her prying eyes elsewhere for so long, even if she respects the privacy of my study. Part of me wants to hope she'd understand, but I know her too well. She is a simple pony, in that she delights in the ordinary. While she is charming in that way, simple ponies fear that which they do not understand. And for their futures, I must understand. I must. I must. *illegibly smudged* I would not be able to keep track of the days were it not for the clock, tick, tick, ticking away, synchronized with every nearly inaudible wingbeat. I barely see my family anymore, only Lucky, but I'm so close now, I can taste it. The gnashing, the gnawing in my stomach, it shall at last be soon filled. Though perhaps that is more mundane hunger. I cannot recall the last time I ate or slept. I'm not even sure why I'm bothering to continue my journaling, when the blood of ages writ into substance pools and writhes between the slabs, between my ears. Yes, I should get back to work now. My benefactor and patron never falters. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen Lucky eat or sleep at all since we've met. Not even once. Truly inspiring! *illegibly smudged* *illegibly smudged* at last discovered my work with the Book. As I'd expected, she was less than receptive to the idea of its mere existence, let alone my decoding of its marvels, and we traded rather heated words. She does not blame me, however, she blames Lucky for being a bad influence. That's preposterous, of course, and I told her as much. but she wasn't having it. Much to my horror, she swept up Lucky in a bug net to be released into the winds! I couldn't stop her from taking the Book either, my muscles weakened from disuse. I pretended to acquiesce to her pleas afterwards, and am about to go cuddle up with her and *illegibly smudged* to sleep. But tomorrow I NEED to get the Book back. I still see the runes behind my eyelids, tantalizing in their magnificence. I will dream of the truth that lies in wait.