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

“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

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...