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

We ALL look so alien, just as what we’re called on the official documents.

Journey into winter in a mother’s eyes Sun shines through, fleeting moments A lucid smile breaks the clouds Reminders of her summer life...

Our sons lived for five years in an orphanage in the rainforest of Puerto Maldonado, Peru after their biological parents died. When our...

At this stage in his life he worried about everything. Five days before his seventy-eighth birthday, he scanned his body. Eyes cloudy....

Where does love go when it dies? A stranger’s story can move like a riptide between the listener’s ears.

Harry pneumatically lowered the front of the bus. John smiled, went along with the joke, and hunched over as if he were an old man. He...

Sister is pleading with her friend; Send me a picture of our house Our old house that we abandoned Without a farewell, with hope to...

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

“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...

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...