The Healer.
The Healer Setting: A quiet, modest room in a weathered community center. Candles flicker in glass jars along the walls, their light dancing across a circle of people sitting on mismatched chairs. Outside, the sound of rain whispers against the windows. The healer, a weathered figure in their late 40s with kind but piercing eyes, stands in the center of the room, their simple clothing reflecting their grounded demeanor. The air is heavy with tension, the group restless with unspoken fears. The healer begins to speak, their voice warm and steady, carrying both authority and compassion.* Monologue: (Steps into the center of the room, hands loosely clasped in front, their eyes scanning the group with quiet intensity.) I know why you’re here. I know the weight you carry, the questions that haunt you. You’ve tried everything, haven’t you? Medicines, therapies, prayers. And still, you wonder why the pain lingers. Why the struggle feels endless. (Pauses, letting their words settle, then...