Prompt Drabble #8

Prompt: There’s an odd little town out in the desert where the length of your shadow has nothing to do with the height of the sun.

People talked about a time when the shadows followed the people and the people followed the sun. These stories are spoken in whispers in back rooms of iffy establishments. The town hadn’t seen a shadow follow a person in hundreds of years. They say the shadows used to be cast by the sun. Tkhey say that the shadows never left the person or thing they belonged with. Honestly, we’ve never believed them. Not until today.
Today, an old man walked into town with a shadow attached to his heels. The shadow moved when he did and didn’t when he was still. All of the townspeople gathered to watch him walk down the street. The town’s shadow population did too. We could all hear the rough scratchy sound of the shadows talking amongst themselves.
None of us knew how to approach this man with a shadow. Was he dangerous? Was his shadow? His shadow. What an odd thing to say. “his shadow” Shadow’s didn’t belong to people and people didn’t belong to shadows.
Finally, the mayor decided to talk to him. So, taking the sheriff of the shadows and the guard of the people he moved into the street, hoping the man wasn’t here to harm any of us. “Hello Sir Human, and hello Sir Shadow. I welcome you to our town, and wish to ask you what your business is.”
The man looked confused for a moment, watching our mayor and the sheriff of shadows. “My name is Philip. Why isn’t your shadow following you?” We all gasped and the shadows rattled angrily. How politically incorrect of him!