Stiltskin (Andrew Buckley) by Andrew Buckley Read Free Book Online Page B

over a foot tall, the Gnomes began to breed at an exceptional rate. The intricacies of Gnome mating, especially since there are no females or even sexual organs of any kind, are far too complicated for any mere human to comprehend.
    The Gnomes were born as one-foot-tall men with beards and pointy hats. They had a life expectancy of exactly seventy-three years. Like any species, except dolphins, the Gnomes did not get along and fights broke out. The fights resulted in tribes being formed and the Gnomes split. Many tribes headed for the mountains, others moved into the forests of the Northern Regions, and one unfortunate tribe found a curse inherent in their creator’s spell. It seemed that an unfortunate side effect of their creation caused the Gnomes to be drawn to the doors like a moth to a flame. As a result, the Gnomes were constantly falling through the doors to Othaside. Gnomes feared Othaside as it was quickly discovered that they couldn’t survive in that world. Whenever a Gnome crossed over, it instantly turned either ceramic or plastic, and the residents of Othaside used the petrified Gnomes to decorate their gardens.
    The Warrior Gnomes settled themselves at the foot of the Grimm Mountains and were known to be the toughest and most dangerous Gnomes of all the tribes. They had commissioned themselves to watch over the Exchange, as it was the only static door between Thiside and Othaside. The tribe figured it warranted guardians and they were just the Gnomes for the job. Numbering almost two hundred, the Warrior Gnomes watched over the wooden door that was set at the very bottom of the mountain.
    Today, the mountain felt unsettled and General Gnarly himself had taken to watching the doorway from one of the many ledges set into the rock. A small contingent of his best warriors had just joined him on the ledge when the doorway below had swung open and the Dwarf had staggered out.
    “What shall we do, General?” asked Gnorman.
    “Let’s kill him,” suggested Gnick.
    “Easy, soldiers,” said General Gnarly, an aged Gnome who was drawing close to his seventy-three years and had already survived the Great Gnome War of 1952. “Gneil and Gnelly, head down to the Exchange and make sure everything’s okay. Return to us quickly.”
    “Sir, yes sir,” chimed Gneil and Gnelly and took off down the mountain toward the entrance.
    “It’s strange,” said Gnorman, “I’ve never felt this unsettled in a long time.”
    General Gnarly scowled through his little white beard. His experience had taught him not to jump to conclusions. “Keep an eye on the Dwarf but let’s wait and see what the scouts have to report before we act.”

    Robert covered his nose to dampen the smell of blood. The small room had a tiled marble floor, cream-coloured walls similar to ones often found in an old folks’ home, a long oak counter, and bright fluorescent lights. Set into the wall to the right was a large wooden door, much like the entrance to the Exchange in Othaside. Behind the counter was an intricately carved circular door that stood next to a large metal refrigerator.
    Robert counted at least sixteen fluffy white dead rabbits littered around the floor, on the counter and one that had been impaled by a knife to the adjacent wall.
    “What happened here?” asked Robert.
    “Stay here.” Lily jumped the counter, swung open the circular door, and dived through the hole, closing the door behind her. Robert stood alone in the Exchange, now a tomb for dead rabbits, and took a moment to examine his life to date. Something deep down was stirring inside of him and he wasn’t sure he liked it. It felt as if, up until the moment he’d walked into the Exchange, his life wasn’t completely real, that the feeling of not belonging he’d experienced even before he’d found out he was adopted was totally validated. Despite being in an unfamiliar world, despite being dragged around by some strange woman whose pet Fairy had knocked him