• 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."
...listening to the same music I listened to 20 years ago…is it comfort I feel as the impulses fall into the same old well-worn synaptic paths…or is it numbness as the paths are dug ever deeper, while the surrounding gray matter becomes overgrown with weeds and discarded beer cans?
I say cheers to Keith, who is as groovy as ever, as is our beloved Scrine.
His dreams were so groovy that sometimes ghosts would sneak into the house on Saturday nights and use his head as a disco ball.
Not wanting to be rude when the man unexpectedly woke up, the ghosts made up some crazy story about using the man's head as a disco ball on account of his groovy dreams, but really they were just fascinated by how big and round the thing was.
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