Scrabble's illegitimate love child

What is Scrine?

• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.

What are the rules?

• 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.

Who can play?

• 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.

What about privacy?

• 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.

's notes

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."

Please Choose

Enjoy the Benefits!

  • Words, glorious words.

  • Bad puns and top-notch metaphors.

  • Every sentence backed by solid science.

Member Log In



 Remember me

Show my name in the online users list

      Lost your password?

Become a Scriner!



A password will be e-mailed to you.

Scrine Restoration

Sentences: 100% (19120)
Comments: 11%

Confessional: 100%
Scrineblog: 18.4%

boot blog: 100%
'mouse blog: 0%

Logged In


Subscribed To:

  • What? No tag subscriptions?
  • Do you require a doctor?


When you live alone, it takes a bit more effort to be surprised on Christmas morning; about a case and a half more effort, if you’re counting.

    TAGS:  loneliness, Christmas

The needle hit the inside of the record and starting scraping around and around, but Sally just sat in her armchair listening to the sound, listening to it go round and round and round.

    TAGS:  loneliness, music, Sally, phonograph

She sat on the train to work listening to a terrible throw-back to the early 80s and, terrible though the Nolan Sisters were, she sat in a quite perky way, bopping her head and tapping her feet happily in time to the music, trying all the time not to notice just how much she was annoying the person next to her, when she realised that she seemed to be the only vaguely happy person on the train – she just did not understand it, I mean, sure, she was not always happy herself and, yes, it was an early ‘off to work we go’ sort of train and, yes, this didn’t exactly thrill her to her toes, but surely amongst this multitude of people there was one other person in existence that felt just a glimmer of happiness or good cheer, I mean, just look at them, with their mobile phones, their books, their Gameboys, their iPods, their well-fed and well-clothed bodies, their ‘better lives’, surely just this material wealth alone would lend them to sniggering or sneering in some sort of a “I’ve got more than you” way - exactly why was it that they seemed to be so utterly, entirely, exclusively, without exception, wretchedly miserable, was the end of the world nigh and she’d missed it in the news or was it more personal than that and maybe she was dying and everyone on the train knew that and no-one was willing to tell her, but that couldn’t be true, I mean how would they even know, it’s not like she had it tattooed on her forehead, or maybe that was it, maybe it was something physical, maybe there was something wrong with her, maybe that saying about bliss (how did that go, was it something like blissfully unaware or, no, that’s it “ignorance is bliss”), that was it, the only possible way that she could be sitting here as happy as a bear with his head stuck in a pot of honey, would be because she didn’t know what it was that was causing all this misery in everyone else, there was some ‘big thing’ that she was totally unaware of and that’s why, every morning, day after day, week after week, people sat around her looking almost suicidal; because they knew the ‘big thing’ and she didn’t, I mean, let’s face it they were probably all secretly laughing at her for being so naive and so unbelievably, pathetically cheerful, god they probably hated her, all of them, everyone on the train, sitting there, looking at her and thinking to themselves “hah, of course she’s happy, she doesn’t know, it’s easy to be happy when you don’t even know”; but the thing is, how would she find out and, more importantly, did she want to find out, I mean, if ignorance is bliss, why break it, why try fix something that doesn’t need breaking- no wonder they all hated her, god, she was miserable.

    TAGS:  loneliness, commuting, perfection, consumerism, miserable

All alone except for a bed pan.

    TAGS:  loneliness, fear, aging, bedpans

in excelsis :: hysterium

having finished his 100th floor of 100 rooms with 100 walls each, the carpenter still felt lonely.

    TAGS:  loneliness, carpentry

Many visits now find me walking the halls of Scrine, empty and full of echoes of the day, in a ghostly, haunting way.

    TAGS:  loneliness, ghosts, time zones, echoes

Is it yours?

    TAGS:  loneliness, lost

The novelty of living alone wore off within the first week, and she found herself answering the solicitation calls just for someone to talk to.

    TAGS:  loneliness, alone, solicitation

Or is it just me? :: OhNo789

Have you ever driven down one of those roads at night? the ones without a waypoint or reason for being after the shop keepers pull their metal gates down, down over their doors, and when you pass the streetlights a familiar friend sidles up from some empty space beside you, pulls into your lane, and shrinks into the shadows before the next streetlamp; is that friend always your shadow?

    TAGS:  loneliness, shadows, empty roads, friends in low places

“Bruised-apple eyed she ruminates towards the tall buildings she mistakes for a herd: her gaze has the loneliness of smoke.”

    TAGS:  loneliness, poetry, giraffes, ruminates


Copyright @ 2005 - 2018

149 queries in 0.4951 seconds