Valiant Scribe
A literary hub giving voice to the voiceless by retelling the human experience

The large wall of windows on the fifth floor of the Stefanie Spielman Comprehensive Breast Center overlooks the corner of a congested...

Brevity and small encounters are how I would describe my relationship with Mr. Freeze. I nicknamed him like a pet, there in my limited...

On workday mornings, I only give myself forty minutes to commute to work. In order to save time, I thoroughly studied theories such as...

Yeah, 10 hours yesterday / I am happy though / (happier than most) / Satisfied, even / I mean, the rush is never as strong as the first...

As we entered high school and began preparing for the next four years that would culminate in either an acceptance or rejection to our...

Between the wire-barbed bar, lens cap of his life, he can see a worker approaching his cage. This time, she does not offer him food. She...

The homeless man stood on the corner just up from the Santa Monica Pier by the triple water fountain that rested atop a column decorated...

In the summer of 1962, I traveled to Ecuador as part of a Peace Corps Volunteer group of science and math teachers. First, we trained for...

No matter how loud or quiet things got, in our house and in our heads, we could always count on one thing. The towels on the rack were...

Linda sat across from Joe, her heart racing as he sulked over the pile of bills, as if they weren’t his doing. She wanted to reach over...

Except for the toddlers waddling on the track field like a flock of ducklings and a row of strollers lined up along a wall, the cement...

The punch came in an unlikely setting: a writing workshop at a girls’ high school in South Los Angeles where I was a creative writing...

for Tess Barbara no longer went to the women’s group at the Methodist church, and for the first year after her daughter’s death, Barbara...

When COVID began to sweep across America, schools, business, and even churches closed, and the country was quiet, it was like a sore on a...

Our son, Alek moved to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, in early December 2019. We Facetime every day. I’m nervous he is 24 hours away but...

Living in a crowded city, you tend to forget what a “quiet street” is. Car horns, brakes, people roaming around, laughing or arguing, the...

An essay written by Faith Esene. I google myself, and a link to different social media platforms appear on the screen, and maybe a list...

For the collection: 'Life in the time of #COVID'. My son Stephen pulls three chairs onto the grass and wipes them with disinfectant...

For the collection: 'Life in the time of #COVID' This day was nice, no less than that, the smog calmed the sun into a tree of whispering...

For the collection: 'Life in the time of #COVID'. Coronavirus has pushed the death toll in the United Kingdom to its highest level since...