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What is Scrine?

• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.


What are the rules?

• Play nice. Be kind. Post only single sentences.

• Scrine gives everyone plenty of rope to play with, but reminds everyone that even the longest rope is capable of hanging a person.

• Censorship is ugly, but still not the ugliest bird in the sky. Happily, this has never been necessary.

• The appropriateness of all sentences will remain the sole discretion of Scrine's tender.



Who can play?

• Anyone. Reading along costs nothing but time.

• Membership is required to post your own sentences. Joining is quick and painless.

• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.


What about privacy?

• Your information will never be sold, given away, shared, or even traded for an unimaginably delicious slice of pie.

• The above sentence may be the only sentence on this site that is 100% true.



's notes



Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.

This is a private space. Only you will see your notes.

Expiration date is not required, only if you want the note to magically disappear.

A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."



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Enjoy the Benefits!

  • Words, glorious words.

  • Many fine examples of semicolon abuse.

  • Best secret handshake west of the Mississippi.

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Scrine Restoration

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End Of The World

With the end of the world drawing near, Keith gathered around him one person from every known and imagined occupation with the hope that somehow, trapped within the many words of the chosen ones, he might find some truth, some secret or microcosmic key that would divert the inevitable and save humanity once and for all; “Or,” he would later write in his memoirs, “we could use the time to discuss ducks and try to reinvent butt jokes, which, it turns out, is much easier than saving the world.”

    TAGS:  humanity, butt jokes, End of the World


The morning time ruptured and the world stopped spinning, Tweed Uppercut was sitting on the toilet reading the morning paper between sips of dark, bitter coffee and ignoring his legs which were tingling and numb from falling asleep – the world may have come to a halt, but as far as the fastidious Mr. Uppercut was concerned it didn’t necessarily preclude having a decent bowel movement, which as everyone knew was the foundation of good health.

    TAGS:  poetry, bowel movements, newspapers, End of the World, ruptures, Tweed Uppercut


 

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