• 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."
Our lives hide here behind words, our shadows reaching out from around the corner of some building we’ve hidden behind, where we hang on tightly to our armload of emotion and secrets, thinking no one will ever find us.
GodDAMN, it takes a long time to haul children as far away as humanly possible.
Is it too early to hide all my husband’s insufferable Mannheim Steamroller holiday albums for another year?
Becky squealed and protested, throwing giant tunas, wobbling jellies, miniscule minuets, and a laughing lollypop at the woman’s head, burbling “not ready… not leaving… not yet…”.
The 3-ring binders, having finally achieved a quorum on the bookshelf, voted to hide the After-School Program Group Project notebook until sometime after Christmas.
Some say Henry disappeared one night on his personal blimp, but others say he’s just hiding in the basement from his wife.
While Milo has his anxiety closet, Toby has an anti-anxiety closet where he goes to escape the dangers of the world at large.
The ducks hid in the closet.
As the bird slowly pecked his way through the stack of books, he pretended not to see the girl who was hiding behind a nearby tree.
After six days of hiding, Julius Casear Ramirez of San Diego grew tired of bewaring the Ides of March and agreed to come out from under the bed.
She wrote hour after hour, page after page, and carefully hid every last word in the corners of her home, tucked safely away in the depths of her heart.
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