Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical Healer– The Man They Couldn’t Kill

Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical Healer– The Man They Couldn’t Kill

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Roy Dawson – The Man They Couldn’t Kill. They Should Have left him be very Dumb people!

A Vision. A Warning. A Reckoning.

Roy Dawson never asked for trouble. Trouble came anyway.

It came dressed in smiles. In family. In fake love and false business deals. It didn’t look like evil at first. But it was. The kind of evil that’s organized. Ritualistic. Old.

Roy was shown the truth.
Not by a detective.
Not by a newspaper.
But by the spirits.

The vision came late one night. Sharp. Heavy. Too detailed to be imagined. His guides didn’t speak in riddles. They showed him what these people had done—and for how long they’d been doing it. Years. Decades. Families destroyed. Lives ruined.

And now, it was Roy’s turn.

But they didn’t know who they were dealing with.

He wasn’t just a man. He was an Earth Angel. A Shaman.
God’s soldier.
God told him: You’re the only one who can deal with her. All the others failed. And now they’re dead.
Roy believed that.
He could feel it in his bones.

They laughed at him.
Many did.
Even people he once loved.
But they’re not laughing anymore.

He was an elite runner. A Elite. The kind who didn’t stop unless he was bleeding—and even then, maybe not. That fire stayed in him long after he left the track.

Later, he became a singer-songwriter. His voice couldn’t be taught. It was earned—raw, spiritual, weathered. His lyrics weren’t fiction. They were lived-in. Felt. Truthful.

And that made him dangerous.

So they came for him.

It started with a copycat. A man trying to be Roy. He stole his songs. His style. His story. Got famous off it. People believed it—for a while.

But behind the curtain, something worse was brewing.

They stole Roy’s identity.
Opened credit cards.
Took out loans.
Filed fake documents.
Redirected his mail.
Letters from the IRS, the courts, the banks—gone.

Then came the fake marriage.

On paper, she was his here wife. Roy never signed a thing. But the system said otherwise. Forged signatures. Inside help. Carefully timed.

And then they killed him.

Not in flesh. But in paperwork.
They filed a copyright.
They claimed his life insurance.
Even held a funeral.
Closed casket. Crocodile tears.
People showed up—knowing he wasn’t inside that box.

Roy Dawson was declared dead.

But Roy Dawson was alive.

He was confused at first.
His mail wasn’t arriving.
Accounts were locked.
Banks raised red flags.
And then he heard: "Someone went to your funeral."

That’s when the fire lit in here his chest.

When he started putting it all together, they tried to silence him again.
Stalkers.
Whispers.
Rumors that he was mentally unstable.

Even family stayed quiet.
Some believed the lies.
Some helped build them.

But Roy didn’t break.
Didn’t fold.
Didn’t whine.

He got louder.
Wrote more.
Ran faster.

Every song was a curse-breaker.
Every verse, a weapon.

They threw everything at him.
Love spells. Death spells.
They hired some of the best spellcasters in the world.

All of it failed.

In Seattle, they sent three men to jump him. Roy left them bleeding on the sidewalk.

They picked the wrong guy.
Again.

The vision showed him the rest.
The judge who helped them.
The fake wedding meant to solidify the con.
The money already being spent.
The dark rituals they performed.
The lives they’d ruined before him.

All of it was revealed.

And this time, it wouldn’t be hidden.

Roy walked into the bank in person.
The woman who faked the marriage? She’d been waiting for a seven-figure payout.
But she got nothing.
Because Roy Dawson was breathing.
Talking.
Present.

Very much alive.

Now the ones who faked his death were coming apart.

Some were hiding.
Some were crying.
Some were throwing up in silence, staring at a wall, wondering how it all went so wrong.

It didn’t go wrong.
It went exactly as it was meant to.

They tried to kill Roy.
They buried him.
Stole from him.
Mocked him.

And now?

They’re paying for it.

Roy Dawson—the man they couldn’t kill.
A warrior.
A prophet.
God’s Shaman.

He was sent for this.
Trained for this.
Chosen.

And now, the truth is not just coming.

It’s already here.