• 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.
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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."
My favourite number is 8 and there’s a sentence of mine lower down that has 8 comments and it looks so nice that I couldn’t help but comment on it - although commenting on it below would have made the number of comments 9, so, instead, here I am wasting valuable Scrine-bird space with this odd little comment-come-sentence.
So many people collect things, some people have collections inflicted upon them, some people go that little bit insane about it, some are quite happy to stop before double digits, some collect the expensive and rare, some collect the quirky and cute, some just collect things because they can, but at the end of the day, it’s all just a variant of the same disease.
Keith, it’s magnificent that you’re already over a quarter of the way there, but couldn’t you just pause briefly (eg. stop) at oh, say, 88%?
“Let’s see, I’ve got my beetroot, some plums, I’m wearing my purple suede boots… what am I missing?”
As another year of life came to completion, boot stood at her front gate and forlornly waved her ‘age with an 8 in it’ farewell.
I’d like to post a sentence saying how nice it is that I’m on sentence 838, but by the end of this sentence it will no longer be true.
As my vision slowly became clearer, I tried to focus on the orange shaped blur in front of me, all the while steadying myself from the heady, calming, blissful state, and eventually the shape manifested itself in the form of the most heavenly mango ever seen.
November just wouldn’t seem complete without a sentence about my dryer lint fetish.
“And, here on your left, you will find the 888th level of hell, which we all fondly refer to as Fixation Corner, oh-hoh-hoh.”
It hardly matters what’s inside it.
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