I was a citizen of Pantysnort, a sleepy seaside village twelve million nautical miles south of Venus!
Business was booming before the south sea bubblegum burst of 1889.
I excelled in creating shadows for the deceased, so they could be cast on shadowless worlds such as alpha male inarticularis!
The walking dead were zombified and menacing but only to the living dead who had nothing to live for but lie around like lions in a savannah like world.
Double-sexed and self absorbed, these creatures of habit and cold comfort wasted away their newly cast shadows and discarded them like toilet paper.
In places such as Green and Iceland, they would brazenly produce shadows in the midnight sun to appease the gods.
A gang of conceited shadows will one day steal the light and the moon will be their only beacon of hope.
With shadows gathered from the past, I would press them in old books which then became a collection of silhouettes.
Such a joy to see such wonders, I often wonder who will create my shadow when I’m gone?