RIO's E-Zine July and August
George the Scribble's Diary
Dear Diary,
Oh and by the way this is top secret. I went to the mall.
Scribbles aren’t supposed to go to the mall! There might be eraser shops there.
Well anyway, I didn’t see any eraser shops so I think it’s a bunch of phooey.
But I did see pencil shops and toy shops and one or two food shops – so there! I
prove you wrong other scribbles! I think I might go back there tomorrow.
PS I did see a supply shop that sold erasers. But the erasers weren’t alive.
Phew!
by Emily Firmston
Oh and by the way this is top secret. I went to the mall.
Scribbles aren’t supposed to go to the mall! There might be eraser shops there.
Well anyway, I didn’t see any eraser shops so I think it’s a bunch of phooey.
But I did see pencil shops and toy shops and one or two food shops – so there! I
prove you wrong other scribbles! I think I might go back there tomorrow.
PS I did see a supply shop that sold erasers. But the erasers weren’t alive.
Phew!
by Emily Firmston
A picture by Jessica Chen
Waiting for the Bus by Emily Firmston
A Cailey story- Kidnapped ch.3
by Angela Giffen
(See our May issue for chapters 1&2)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything
Baileys P.O.V
We were walking along when all of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in the back of
my head and then everything went black.
I woke up with a massive headache, in a small, dark room. Besides a chair,
table and a small lamp, the room was bare. I got up and walked around the room.
It was then that I realized - I couldn’t remember anything. Where was I? What
happened? But most importantly, who was I? I began to feel light headed and sat
down on the chair. I sat there for quite some time before the door to the room
opened and a African-American man walked in.
“Ah nice to see your awake, miss. Bailey Pickett,” the man said.
Bailey Pickett? Who’s Bailey Pickett? And why does that name sound familiar?
“Who’s Bailey Pickett?” I asked the man.
“What do you mean ‘who’s Bailey Pickett’?”
“I mean I don’t know who she is.”
The man stared at me for a while then walked over and crouched down to my level.
“Darling, how much do you remember?” he said in a sweet voice.
“I don’t remember anything really.”
“Do you know you’re name?”
“No,” I answered quietly. I watched the man as he stood up. He had an
evil grin playing against his face.
Man’s P.O.V
Well the girl doesn’t seem to remember anything. This should make my job
easier. I think I’ll tell her that her name is Edna.
“Your name is Edna.”
“Oh, okay. And who are you?” I wondered if I should tell her who I really was
(Mr. Mosbey) but decided against it.
“Jake. Jake…Arnold.” She smiled and I smiled back.
(See our May issue for chapters 1&2)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything
Baileys P.O.V
We were walking along when all of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in the back of
my head and then everything went black.
I woke up with a massive headache, in a small, dark room. Besides a chair,
table and a small lamp, the room was bare. I got up and walked around the room.
It was then that I realized - I couldn’t remember anything. Where was I? What
happened? But most importantly, who was I? I began to feel light headed and sat
down on the chair. I sat there for quite some time before the door to the room
opened and a African-American man walked in.
“Ah nice to see your awake, miss. Bailey Pickett,” the man said.
Bailey Pickett? Who’s Bailey Pickett? And why does that name sound familiar?
“Who’s Bailey Pickett?” I asked the man.
“What do you mean ‘who’s Bailey Pickett’?”
“I mean I don’t know who she is.”
The man stared at me for a while then walked over and crouched down to my level.
“Darling, how much do you remember?” he said in a sweet voice.
“I don’t remember anything really.”
“Do you know you’re name?”
“No,” I answered quietly. I watched the man as he stood up. He had an
evil grin playing against his face.
Man’s P.O.V
Well the girl doesn’t seem to remember anything. This should make my job
easier. I think I’ll tell her that her name is Edna.
“Your name is Edna.”
“Oh, okay. And who are you?” I wondered if I should tell her who I really was
(Mr. Mosbey) but decided against it.
“Jake. Jake…Arnold.” She smiled and I smiled back.
Vacation by Emily Firmston
Raise Your Glass
~Lelainna Dahl
Everybody raise your glass,
put them up high.
This is a toast,
for the greatest teachers around.
The teachers you want to accomplish for,
the teachers you cry for when they are gone.
This is a toast,
to the most amazing teachers we have known.
So raise your glass,
to the ones that pushed you the hardest.
Raise them high,
to show their efforts are worth every last drop.
Though they may have been your teacher for a year,
or possibly a school time.
This toast,
is for all of them.
Pushing us harder,
and maybe even yelling at you.
Their anger isn’t wasted,
when you put your glass in the air.
So keep it up high,
and let them know.
Everybody raise your glass,
put them up high.
This is a toast,
for the greatest teachers around.
The teachers you want to accomplish for,
the teachers you cry for when they are gone.
This is a toast,
to the most amazing teachers we have known.
So raise your glass,
to the ones that pushed you the hardest.
Raise them high,
to show their efforts are worth every last drop.
Though they may have been your teacher for a year,
or possibly a school time.
This toast,
is for all of them.
Pushing us harder,
and maybe even yelling at you.
Their anger isn’t wasted,
when you put your glass in the air.
So keep it up high,
and let them know.