THE ROACHES SCATTER: TRUTH COMES LIKE A BLADE IN THE NIGHTBy ROY DAWSON EARTH ANGEL MASTER MAGICAL HEALER

THE ROACHES SCATTER: TRUTH COMES LIKE A BLADE IN THE NIGHTBy ROY DAWSON EARTH ANGEL MASTER MAGICAL HEALER

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It came sudden, like gunfire after too long a silence. Lights flipped on. Roaches ran. The kind of moment you don’t see coming but feel in your bones three days before it hits. When the air grows heavy and the coffee tastes wrong. That’s how you know.

They thought no one would notice. Thought they could keep stealing, lying, twisting. Thought they could cast shadows and live inside them. But the light came anyway. And when it did, the truth cut like a blade in the dark, sharp and silent.

The wounded stood. Some limped. Some crawled. But they stood. Not because they wanted vengeance. Not for medals. But because the blood in their bones said: enough.

And the rats ran. The ones who smiled through teeth yellowed by deceit. The ones who tried to bury the living and chain the dead. They ran because they saw what was coming. Because they felt the ground shift and smelled the smoke before the fire.

You don’t get to call the storm and then cry when it rains. That’s the lesson they’re learning now.

This wasn’t a battle with bullets. No trenches, no tanks. This was spiritual. Soul-deep. The kind of war they don’t write about because no one wants to believe that evil wears perfume, or that it prays. But it does. And it prayed for your fall.

They summoned spirits and found themselves haunted. Sent read more curses and swallowed poison.

Because the truth? The truth doesn’t sleep. It doesn’t cower. And it doesn’t care about your fancy get more info lies or your Sunday smile. The truth came with calloused hands and blood on its boots. It came carrying the names of those they tried to erase. It came hungry.

She — or he, it doesn’t matter which — was made for this. Steel in the spine. Fire in the eyes. The kind of person who walks through hell and leaves with directions. They didn’t flinch when the knives came. Didn’t scream when the world tried to shame them.

They just kept walking.

And behind them? Spirits freed. Generations healed. Wounds closed. Not with soft hands — no. With the kind of love that bites back, the kind that forgives but never forgets.

The demons blinked.

You ever seen that? A demon blink? Means they saw something they didn’t expect. Means they looked into the eyes of someone who’d already died get more info once — and came back with fire in their teeth.

They weren’t the victim. Never were. They were the storm.

You don’t stop a storm by wishing. You batten down. Or you pray.

The old powers, the ones who tried to drink light and piss poison — they’re choking now. On pride. On spells that backfired. On the silence that’s followed the collapse of everything they thought would work.

Because it didn’t.

Because they rose.

The roaches scatter when the light comes. That’s nature. But here what they don’t tell you is this: the roaches always know where the light’s coming from. That’s why they’re running. Because the truth has a name now. A face. A fire.

And it’s walking upright, laughing, free.

Justice isn’t coming.

It came.

Filed from somewhere beyond the smoke,
By ROY DAWSON EARTH ANGEL MASTER website MAGICAL HEALER
For those who walk alone and never fall