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

Secondly, the rest of the children’s voices suddenly rose up and filled the room.  And then, John began to spin. 

Once again, it’s Christmas—the season of merriment, goodwill, and cheer. For most, it’s a time for family and friends, and a time to...

Feeding the youth with the milk of deception, Grooming them to believe the world owes them. They hold the world at ransom...

You call me your enemy, but you do not know me. my fears, mistakes, worries and woes strengths, courage, and resolve.

—it’s the pain of those unmet needs that exposes your claws and bares your teeth. Every fallen feather is a prayer—God, save this world.

I have danced to the crashing wave’s defiant beat With each step, I roar against the storm's wild retreat This is what it means to be me

we are children of a God who has given us everything we know and want, but don’t understand and so, I am a muddled and confused human

Without waiting for an answer, he retrieved my turquoise suitcase and handed it over to me. “Thank you,” I said.

Mama, do not weep for the flower that withered in the cold, for I have bloomed anew

Words are not an action Nor downcast looks the heart of grief Whether in soul or transgressed body A warm embrace and prayer sincere

You got your Happy Seat; I’m going to have my Grouch Chair. Figured if I get down I may as well sit down...I tried it already. It works.

There has been harm in my story, and as in all good stories, an enemy lurking.  Sometimes we say, “I would not wish this on my worst enemy,”

A crow’s distant cawing Gives voice to solitude Worn like a thorny cloak And mocks that final promise

We all struggle through life just trying to get by. We are all human, we are all sinful, and we are all innocent.

Midnight, screeching vehicles — School girls, screaming — to a truck                       abduction here, cyber fraud there—no jail time.

sitting in this soft world to listen my senses draw inward bringing a blanket of quiet under a night sky...

Old age does have its perks. I don’t have to take off my shoes going through security when I fly.

Let me be remembered, not because of what I did or didn’t do, not for what I said or didn’t say, not for how much money I earned,

“Private!” I yelled. Midland: “What did you call me?” “Private Foster. I’m your sergeant. You’re not near Midland. You’re in Iraq.”

“As a child, I never imagined that one day I would see the Mountain devoid of snow and I don’t know when will I see the musk deer and the...