Performed by Val Cole

—
Get to know the writer:

1. What is your short story about?
This short story was about my relationship with my mom and the way she
passed. I wanted to capture all the little moments I had with her, whether
it was in love or heartbreak, they were the moments that characterized our
relationship and they became emboldened in my memory.

2. What genres would you say this story is in?
This story was nonfiction, or realistic fiction. I probably dramatized some
aspects considering I was a bit younger when they took place, but to the
best of my ability I wrote from memory.

3. How would you describe this story in two words?
Emotional terrorism.

4. What movie have you seen the most in your life?
I’ve watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower more than a dozen times.
There’s just something heartbreaking about Charlie confessing his best
friend killed himself and not admitting to being abused by his aunt. There
was so much that was said so plainly or not said at all that just twisted
something inside me.

5. What is your favorite song? (Or, what song have you listened to the most
times in your life?)
I’ve probably played Mr. Brightside by The Killers an abnormally large
number of times through my life. The lyricism was so clever when I first
discovered it and the way the music splits if you listen through earbuds
just scratches an itch in the back of my head.

6. Do you have an all-time favorite novel?
Ah where to begin? I can’t say I could ever pick a single book because I
love reading and consume too many books to ever commit to one single
favorite. That said, the ones that stand out the most are the Good Girls
Guide to Murder books by Holly Jackson and Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom
by Leigh Bardugo. Beautiful writing and memorable plot twists and character
arcs.

7. What motivated you to write this story?
I wrote this story when I was missing my mom. Even as time passes, I find
myself trying to think of ways to honor her and her memory and I knew that
this would be a good way to do that. Writing helps me process my grief and
I’m glad I was able to do so in a healthy and creative way.

8. If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that
be?
I think I’d like to have dinner with Edgar Allen Poe or Mark Twain. They
were decisively two of the most renown writers in terms of short stories
and especially horror or macabre. I took a lot of inspiration in their work
and found their writing to be fascinating when I was still in school.
Personally picking their brains would be enlightening for sure.

9. Apart from writing, what else are you passionate about?
I really love to read, I love watching movies, dancing, and my dog. Most of
the time I can be a workaholic, but in my free time, I’m usually cramming
in books or movies and cuddling with my German shepherd, Mikey. I do like
to dance whether it be a routine in a fitness class or just moving to a
good beat. Most of my hobbies revolve around being comfortable and relaxing
for sure.

10. What influenced you to enter your story to get performed?
Part of me wanted to have another work of mine published and experience
what it would be like to see it spoken and performed instead of written.
But another part of me wanted to know how people perceived my writing. What
does it sound like when someone else is reading it? Do my feelings come
across? Is this the way I intended my writing to be understood from an
outside perspective? I had to see it for myself and know what it would be
like.

11. Any advice or tips you’d like to pass on to other writers?
Honestly, just write whatever is in your head. A weird phrase you thought
of but done even have a plot to put it in. A character without an
antagonist or even a problem. A complex plot that couldn’t possibly fit
within a word count maximum limit. Write it all, because inspiration will
keep feeding the more you listen to it. Your mind is a powerful thing and
giving in to it can create some amazing stories.

Performed by Val Cole

Get to know the poet:

http://www.deidrepowell.com

1) What is the theme of your poem?

The poem explores justice, advocacy, and compassion — giving voice to the child whose story is often buried beneath legal arguments and adult conflicts. It reflects both the fragility and resilience of children caught between systems meant to protect them.

2) What motivated you to write this poem?

As a family lawyer and mediator, I have witnessed how children’s voices can sometimes be lost in the process. Intimate partner violence affects children deeply and leaves lasting effects. This poem was born from a desire to speak for them — to remind the world that behind every case file is a child longing to be heard.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I have been writing poetry since I was about ten years old, but I began publishing recently. Poetry has become my second vocation, a bridge between law, faith, and love.

4) If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?

Maya Angelou. Her wisdom, courage, and cadence taught me that truth spoken with grace can move nations.

5) What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

I’m a writer, not an actor. I prefer to hear other people’s interpretations of my work. I wanted to hear the poem interpreted through another voice , to see how its emotional truths would resonate beyond the page. The idea of transforming advocacy into performance felt both healing and necessary.

6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc.?

Yes. In addition to poetry, I write children’s books and short stories. I have a few upcoming poetry collections such as Echoes from the Unseen and Who Else Cries in Silence. These poems examine global injustice and faith, while my children’s book Tell Me a Story, Grandma celebrates intergenerational love, faith, and storytelling.

7) What is your passion in life?

My passion is giving voice to the unseen, whether through advocacy in the courtroom or witness through poetry. I believe words can heal, illuminate, and restore our shared humanity. My passion is also leaving a lasting legacy of love, faith, and justice for my family.

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POEM:

Justice,
before you rule,
Please hear me—
not as counsel,
but as one who has stood in that midnight kitchen
through her words,
through her trembling hands,
fighting for Pêpê’s best interest—
a child the law claims to protect,

yet leaves trembling.
It is not enough
when his hand explodes against her mother’s face,
the sound sharp as a rifle crack,
making the glass in its frame shiver.
It is not enough
when her cheek blooms red,
then fades too fast for the lens to catch.

Pêpê—her mother’s pet name,
whispered like a shield.
At night she lies rigid in her bed,
listening to her mother’s muffled whimpering,
each sob a small surrender.
She learns too early that comfort is dangerous,
that silence is armour.
I hear her in the pauses her mother cannot fill,
in the way fear wraps itself around every word.

She is six.
Only six—
and already her eyes know how to measure a room,
track his every move,
clutch her mother’s skirt as though it’s the only thing
anchoring her to safety.
She memorises the path to the door,
ready to run before she’s learned to ride a bike.

Do you know what it is
to argue a case with your throat closing?
To know that “best interest of the child”
is not a theory,
not a balance sheet,
but a warm bed free from dread—
and still watch the law lean to “access”
and “parental rights”
as if they outweigh
a child’s right to breathe without fear?

He does not feed her.
He does not clothe her.
He does not keep her warm.
Yet he claims the right to hold her,
to call it love,
to shape her into a silence that will last her life.

The mother is shamed as bitter if she speaks,
while he—
who punched a hole beside her face—
walks away smiling.
And Pêpê learns to fold herself into small spaces,
to call fear normal,
to believe this is what families are.

Justice—
I see her years from now,
laughing in a sunlit kitchen,
her footsteps light,
her nights free from dread.
Your choice can make that real.

You are not deaf
to her small voice asking:

“Do I have to go?”

Your gavel can crush—
or shield.

Choose her.

Carve a future
where Pêpê wakes to mornings of peace,
where only her cereal crunches.