"Ask St. Rita what you need. Do not cancel. I ask you from the heart. It is the week of St Rita who performs impossible things. Pass it to people within 1 hour. You will receive a miracle today.”
Dear St. Rita,
I need pieces. The round and shiny ones. Those can only be acquired by the digits I do not have. You see... They are coming. I've known for a long, long time. I've known since before I could remember.
I have been tasked with an improbable mission, one that is not impossible if I had the digits to procure the pieces. The pieces are what will bring the masses. The masses are what we need to wake the others. This is not my plan... this is not my plan. I sit and slave, trying to make the digits, but my collectors siphon them off before they can accumulate to buy the pieces. Inside those masses will be the tree branch of chosen warriors that are also part of this plan. Warriors that believe in peace as much as I do, those that will not die without surviving first. The ones that have the tools and the bravery to stand up to Them.
For me to ask such a monetary gift is only to ask you to bring to me what I've already worked for in this life. The digits that have been slipping through my fingers. The digits that are tied to my words. The words that have come from another place, a place I have never had control over, a place that has made me Its messenger.
So I ask you dear St. Rita--I ask you for the impossible to make my improbable, plausible.