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

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

“If there is no God, what is left?” he interrogated himself.  He stood motionless in a warm, dry wind, felt himself falling into an eternity

I tell myself that compassion is my calling, and God will gather my fallen stories. He has given me a mother and friends who care about...

Each week the technician presses the wand across my womb. I know better than to ask for interpretations, the half-heart still flickering,...

I’ve learned to keep my faith in place, and sing of streets, warm hands cupped around coffee, fresh memories steaming to the surface,...

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

“You’ll feel different when you start using your Hebrew name,” Bayla said. We sat on the carpet as her children played, leaning against a...

Written by Jeff William Acosta I. It's 9 am Sunday. Another day I am forced to wake up while I'm in the process of drowning my body in...