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

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

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

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,”

I’m sorry.  I didn’t recognize you, in the soiled coat and blue jeans, shuffling along the subway station, praying for money from heaven.

Luis had been a patient of mine for less than a year.  He’d been referred to me by his primary care physician on the south side of San...

If you are sitting in darkness open your eyes turn around to see if there’s light behind you or above or below or to the side not that...

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