Like a good old-fashioned love in, only with words

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!

  • Sentences worth shaking a stick at.

  • Many fine examples of semicolon abuse.

  • Every sentence backed by solid science.

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Scrine Restoration

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monday’s haiku :: goliard

my cigarette salute to the rising sun is behind schedule now.

    TAGS:  poetry, haiku, cigarettes, sun

Generation Gap :: Br. Ezra

Grandma Edna never understood why her grandchildren laughed raucously every time she went outside to light up a fag.

    TAGS:  cigarettes, Grandma Edna

Gasoline :: OhNo789

Ken, currently doused in gasoline after a rather nasty string of events starting with his car running out of that which now flaunts itself upon his skin, began to think about starting a smoking addiction, if tobacco’s stress relieving abilities were to ring true, then, luckily, decided against it, because he had never like coughing.

    TAGS:  addiction, bad mornings, cigarettes

“I crawled, after all, over shag carpet, tans and yellows and oranges, dusty from neglect, learning to speak and walk in a cloud of Marlboro and Winston smoke, sheetrock walls stained yellow, cobwebs and water spots above, in the sound of folk and Southern rock and the more angry genres of hippies coming to terms with the mid 1970s, everything left undone, beginning to doubt the dream.”

    TAGS:  music, cigarettes, shag carpet, Southern rock

My life is a dream noir lived entirely in feverish flashbacks of shadows and silhouetted figures prowling my nightmares; the blond femme fatale with the hour glass figure and red pouty lips knows a secret bound in fetish wear that she refuses to share with me, but if the deep red wounds across my wrists are any indication I would rather not know what brings her to my office at this late hour –I offer her a cigarette and ask her to sit down.

    TAGS:  dreams, cigarettes, nightmares, flashbacks, shadows, femme fatales, fetish wear, fim noir


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