• 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."
The label on the bum of my stuffed rabbit reads, “To prevent product migration do not wash by hand or machine.”
“I need to let the bunny out.”
As Spike walked in the house, carefully carrying a box the realisation hit - “Ahhhhhhh - a girl bunny”, I muttered as I followed him through the house to observe my own bunny, Oscar (who has never met another of his kind), look suspiciously at the thing that moved in such a similar way; the cat, of course, had no issues with curiosity and walked up, gave Pixie a sniff and then commenced to clean her head with his tongue.
“Ascension can occur with or without these,” Ruby said, holding up a pair of comfortable looking, bright pink bunny slippers with large floppy ears, “and the choice is yours; but if you want my opinion, what’s the good of Enlightenment without comfortable slippers.”
How the heck does such a little bunny get over those big backyard fences.
And why doesn’t the Easter Bunny get a sleigh, reindeer and helper elves too?
Little bear lay on her back gazing at the clouds, flattening out a field of daisies, while the busy, squishy oomans walked right by making so much noise that they failed to notice her, the daisies or the bunnies.
In a world filled with post apocalyptic dread one bunny will revolt and lead the oppressed people to freedom.
You never know where bunnies might be hiding, even in your boots, so always check for fluffy sights, else watch out for cahoots.
Long, floppy, bunny ones, if you would be so kind.
I’m sorry, miss lady, when I called the bunnies lovers, the ones drinking dew off of the three am grass, I did not mean that you and I were their mirror, though I suppose the soft pillow of night, and the bed of fireflies might agree with you.
Copyright @ 2005 - 2017
151 queries in 1.3072 seconds