• 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."
These pockets of individuality and creativity, these people and places that have not been stamped out of the mass-moulding machine of homogenisation, they leave us, but we never know where they go; do they become hollow and cease to exist, or have they found another world, full of like-minded, but, of course, so very not alike people, a place we’ll never find, a place now only in our hearts.
Boot looked at the mainstream values sales man in disbelief, ‘So all I need to do to get the free gift is to watch an episode of Big Brother or read a romance novel… couldn’t you make it something simple like bamboo sticks under the fingernails?’.
Tammy had the distinct feeling that her work was trying to subtly erase every last modicum of her personality, piece by piece, memo by memo, email by email.
The elegant but enraged woman lined up the grey, bitter and utterly soulless entities against the wall and smiled unnervingly as she slowly unveiled her first implement of mayhem and blood.
As she passed each chain-everything’s-the-damn-same-store, her anger increased as rapidly as the once loved quirky corner mutated into yet another any-street-any-town, until suddenly Miss Jane and her flamethrower stepped forward, took control and began the burning.
It’s not a good feeling.
I’m not sure it’s even possible, but it certainly appears that large gangs of humans appear to be clotting.
Some days Cherri saw no point to battling it and other days she couldn’t even see what there was to battle.
Copyright @ 2005 - 2017
145 queries in 4.9025 seconds