• 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."
I have fallen under the evil spell of ice cream.
Vienna Mocha Chip ice cream absolutely counts as a healthy breakfast when you sprinkle it liberally with Wheatabix or something called Nutty Nuggets.
As Becky stood in the middle of the earth, under the shade of the whippletree, amidst a streaming tunnel of fluorescing colours, listening to the sounds of a million voices collide and pop violently against each other, she wondered who else there was like her, she wondered if she were the only one truly alive in this steamy, underground version of reality, if all these other ‘people’ were just figments of her fig-scented imagination, if she were the only person that constantly received these giddy, swirling eddies of emotion that seemed to be simultaneously enervating and, yet, as stimulating as the stars in the night sky, these emotions of colour and noise and ice-cream which would swish fluidly around her body or if, indeed, there was another, one more, just one other entity who could wave away entire disenchantments with an insignificant brush of their hand, one who merely needed to think of the pastels and the paisleys to end the suffering (or begin it), one more being who would subtly, but oh-so surely join her in this licorice all-sorts land and bring her, finally, to her bursting and beautiful beginning.
“Do you want an ice cream?” the woman asks the boy to which he responds at the top of his lungs and with joy, “YAAAAAAAAAY ICECREAM!” and she cautions him not to be quite so loud about it; I on the other hand, smile, thinking there should be more of it and if there was perhaps we’d be less cynical and more willing to express emotions loudly and proudly - whatever they may be.
Apocalypse turned to the devil and grumbled “what next, chocolate sauce!?”
Attending James Madison’s Inaugural Ball in 1809 was quite a treat, even if I can’t get the taste of Dolley’s oyster ice cream off my tongue.
Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream is, by far, my least favorite, but it won’t stop me from kissing the cold, melted, green drops off of her lips after her favorite dessert.
Temp Agencies can be the scariest places sometimes, but often you may find on a desk of that sterile, off-white place there might be a drop of happy, pink, strawberry ice cream, having dripped to its current location from the jowls of the foreboding “The [sic.] Man.”
Meanwhile, down at the used car lot, Henry insisted upon the salesman that he would take no less than 800 ice cream sandwiches for his minivan.
My brilliant but crazy uncle Frank once got it into his head that children, when presented with a range of foods, would naturally choose all the nutrients they needed to survive and thrive, however, it turns out that children, when presented a range of foods, will naturally eat nothing but donuts and cheese until they, also naturally, end up in the hospital suffering from malnutrition in the midst of plenty, which brings us to my weekend of bachelorhood when it seemed like a good idea to let my body choose what it needed from the fully stocked larder and I ended up eating nothing but Nutella and ice cream and drinking nothing but gin.
After conducting extensive experiments, I have determined that my weight is controlled entirely by two variables in my diet (and no others), Oreos and ice cream.
Copyright @ 2005 - 2017
152 queries in 1.0553 seconds