Stiltskin (Andrew Buckley) Read Online Free PDF

part of his soul that bore the closest resemblance to courage and swung the frying pan at Veszico. Had Robert known anything about Veszico, this simple act of attempted violence never would have crossed his mind.
    The Fairy’s normal blue glow turned a fierce and vibrant red; she snatched the frying pan out of his hand and swung it full circle to smash into the side of his head.
    Robert’s head was not conditioned to being hit with hard objects and his brain decided that this was a good time to become unconscious. He fell backward into his coffee table, smashing it into several small pieces.
    “Nice swing, but not really why we came here. Find Jack and tell him I’ve found Darkly but the Dwarf is gone. He’ll still be here in Othaside, probably looking for a passport so he can get back. Tell Jack I’ll meet him at the Exchange and tell him I’m bringing Robert Darkly with me.”
    Veszico shook her head and pointed angrily at the unconscious naked man.
    “I know, Veszico, but he’s involved somehow and we need to know how.”
    Veszico hmphed , turned a light greyish kind of color, and flew out of the window, instantly blending in with the dark clouds.
    “All right, Robert Darkly, son of a madman, time to wake up.”

    Sad irony existed throughout the Universe. Ironically, the fact that it was sad didn’t stop it from being amusing to outside observers. This was the case with the North London Association of Khuzdophobia Sufferers. Khuzdophobia was a term made popular firstly by the online gaming community and secondly by the North London Association of Khuzdophobia Sufferers. Khuzdophobia was the completely non-medical, non-sanctioned, un-technical term that described someone who had a fear of Dwarves.
    As with any popular term that isn’t completely real, it immediately garnered a great many followers, hence the formation of the North London Association of Khuzdophobia Sufferers, otherwise known as N-LAKS. Its two hundred and seventy-one international members crossed every demographic known to man. Only twelve of the members actually lived in North London and those individuals met on a sort of weekly basis for group therapy, which consisted of lots of group hugging, stories of close encounters of the Dwarf kind, how to embrace your fear of short people, and so on and so forth. The group rented an assembly hall at a local elementary school that smelled like dust and the sweat of seven-year-olds.
    At about the same time that Robert made his wish, Jasper Clementine, the self-appointed lead therapist, was standing in the middle of the group encouraging everyone to admit their fears and discuss their phobia openly.
    “All right, everyone, let’s come to order,” said Jasper enthusiastically, and then as an afterthought, “let’s try and leave the tea and cookies until the end of the session, shall we?”
    The group shuffled their chairs closer into the circle around Jasper. Jonathan, who was about to help himself to a chocolate chip cookie, backed away from the refreshments and quickly took his seat as Jasper continued.
    “I realize it’s been a few weeks since we all met together and I know we all have stories to share, but I’d like to start with Doris. She had quite the ordeal last week while up visiting her sister. Doris?”
    Doris was four hundred pounds wearing a strapless, flower-print dress and uncomfortable shoes. That is not to say that the shoes were uncomfortable for her to wear, but rather, the shoes felt uncomfortable having a four-hundred-pound woman standing on them. She leaned forward on the folding chair, which complained to no one in particular.
    “Well, I went to see my sister ya see, up in Birmingham, nice place is Birmingham, not really known for its short folk. Anyway, my sister, Alice is her name, says she has a surprise for me and that I should get dressed up, and I don’t really like to get dressed up because I prefer to be comfortable, but as it’s my sister and we don’t see each