• 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.
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• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.
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• 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."
Her head exploded swiftly, leaving a lacy pattern of blood and brain tissue all over her desk, which would not have happened from a slow leak.
I admit it—I was responsible for the psychic explosion that left that so-called customer service agent at the bank a shuddering blob of rotting jellyfish on the floor, but he deserved it, he really deserved it.
“Now, just let that brain simmer for a few more hours and, voila!, you’ll find the brain will actually self implode, saving you the cost of expensive liqueurs.”
Rufus thinks that Schuster is over-compensating for something, and that no amount of dynamite will bring him the happiness and fulfillment he craves, but my friend Schuster thinks that Rufus is full of shit and obviously doesn’t know a thing about psychology; “It’s never about the dynamite,” Schuster told him, “but the explosion that follows, you idiot.”
From the large explosions and surprised yells, Mr. Johnson deduced the neighborhood boy had learned another lesson in firework safety.
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