• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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.
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."
And… even though he didn’t precede the sentence with Gertrudes name, he still looked meaningfully in her direction when he said, “and we need someone to…”.
Gertrude, having read an email from an aquaintance, thought affectionately, ‘I love him! I love his brain.’, then ventured on to think, ‘Same reason I loved Mr X, really. Well… that… and his butt.’ and snickered to herself in joy at the memories conjured up by that thought.
Gertrude wistfully wondered where all the crazy folks who used to rock up, armed with ingredients, and cook for her in her own home had disappeared; thinking perhaps, that some sneaky alternate dimension had plotted until they found a way to suck these wonderful, but hard to find souls, into their own world to eat them.
Despite the clues strewn carelessly about, Gertrude remained oblivious, studying her fingernails, wondering whether they’d look better in purple or green.
Gertrude gazed in wonder at the pompous condescending clerk as she corrected Gerties assumptions, “Gertrude? No, no, no… we don’t use names here! It’s all too personal, we give you a number, it’s more equitable that way. To save time we also assume you are stupid and don’t actually want a job. Is there anything else you don’t understand?”.
Gertrude restudied each of the clues carefully, sorting and filing details into her inbuilt filing system and concluded that she knew she knew the truth and at the end of the day it really made no difference to the world - so went back to studying her green and purple nails, wondering if she should have perhaps gone for one colour rather than listening to, and taking, all advice offered.
Gertrude developed a severe case of Scrine-itis after reading the New Matilda headline, ‘A Keith Amongst the Pigeons’.
gertrude found herself perplexed and confused and wondered if things would make sense if she put all those crazy sentences together - or perhaps, if she took the first letter of each word in each sentence she’d discover the meaning of life.
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