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

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

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

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.

Afghanistan’s Kyrgyz nomads survive in one of the most remote, high-altitude, bewitching landscapes on Earth. It’s a heavenly life – and...

I grew up thinking My suburban life Filled with liberal minds And high-minded rhetoric Had taught me all I needed to know But you cannot...

Chaos. Wrenching at her. It will sweep her away if it can. Clari’s left hand grips the gummy steering wheel, her right the stubborn gear...

I looked for everything the way it was twenty years ago. Buffalo boys balancing on the horizon. Bungalows on stilts with woven reed...

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

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...

I should go to bed before it gets light, but there are things which bother me at night One of them is hunger - we are short of food,...