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

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

We don’t want your money, just your soul on a silver platter served to order for our warm feast while we spit out your raw famine. We...

Only those reluctant dullards who became wise at the expense of innocence can understand the inference that the sourness of mangrove...

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...

Feather instead my wings. All the way home, over the streets, for here we are. In truth, none alone. Christ, O Truth, take my hand.