（外文电子版资料）Charles de Lint - Pixel Pixies.pdf

Pixel Pixies Charles de Lint ONLY WHEN MISTRESS HOLLY HAD RETIRED TO HER apartment above the store would Dick Bobbins peep out from behind the furnace where hed spent the day dreaming and drowsing and reading the books he borrowed from the shelves upstairs. He would carefully check the basement for unexpected visitors and listen for a telltale floorboard to creak from above. Only when he was very very sure that the mistress, and especially her little dog, had both, indeed, gone upstairs, would he creep all the way out of his hidden hobhole. Every night, he followed the same routine. Standing on the cement floor, he brushed the sleeves of his drab little jacket and combed his curly brown hair with his fingers. Rubbing his palms briskly together, he plucked last nights borrowed book from his hidey-hole and made his way up the steep basement steps to the store. Standing only 2 feet high, this might have been an arduous process all on its own, but he was quick and agile, as a hob should be, and in no time at all hed be standing in among the books, considering where to begin the nights work. There was dusting and sweeping to do, books to be put away. Lovely books. It didnt matter to Dick if they were serious leather-bound tomes or paperbacks with garish covers. He loved them all, for they were filled with words, and words were magic to this hob. Wise and clever humans had used some marvellous spell to imbue each book with every kind of story and character you could imagine, and many you couldnt. If you knew the key to unlock the words, you could experience them all. Sometimes Dick would remember a time when he hadnt been able to read. All he could do then was riffle the pages and try to smell the stories out of them. But now, oh now, he was a magician, too, for he could unearth the hidden enchantment in the books any time he wanted to. They were his nourishment and his joy, werent they just. So first he worked, earning his keep. Then he would c