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

if I started, “Once upon a time, not so long ago, lived a man with a habit of regretting his mistakes and making more in the process,”...

Each week the technician presses the wand across my womb. I know better than to ask for interpretations, the half-heart still flickering,...

they ask me if i still think of death, i say i always have a shadow, like shafts of rain falling in sunlight. i don’t need monsters and...