Creating Shadows

I work. I'm not sure what it is I do exactly, but I know I get a paycheck for it. Sometimes I'm called to the forefront, but usually they need me in the background, behind the darkness; creating the shadows while quickening the pace.

Even the shadow-mover has off-days.

They found a used shell. Apparently, it had my fingerprints on it.

I tried recalling the night I loaded the cartridge but that was useful for only about forty-five seconds. The weather was supposed to be clear all night, meaning I should not have heard anything less than ten pounds scrawling over my rooftops. The spooky bastards they sent after me were at least one-hundred-and-fifty-plus.

They were all dead weight once me and mother nature were through with them.