She had prayed so long her knees knew the shape of the floor.At night, when the house was quiet and the glow of the phone had finally gone black, she would sit at the edge of her bed and talk to God the way lonely people do. Not with fine words. With need.“Send me a man who is not a boy,” she said.“Send me someone brave. Honest. Loyal. A man

by Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical Healer ( THE DIFFERENT ONE)It’s a gloomy day out here, rain hammering the coffeepot, sky sagging like a tired old shirt, and I can taste the bitterness in my mug. Black coffee, strong as my grandfather’s handshake. The world outside is soaked, but my mind is always working—chewing on problems the syste