Leather Pocketbook Novels & Stories

Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, were a few items that made my eyes widen. First, a small, elegant leather-bound journal, dark green, with my initials subtly embossed in gold on the cover. It was beautiful, the kind of journal I'd always wanted but never bought for myself. Next to it, a fancy pen, heavy and smooth in my hand. Then, a small velvet pouch. I opened it, and a delicate silver necklace spilled out, with a tiny, intricate compass charm. It was simple, yet meaningful. It wasn't flashy, but it felt special, like something someone truly thought about.

The object feels heavy, and the oilcloth is tied with a black ribbon string that looks so old and dusty. Carefully, I untie the string, my fingers fumbling with the knots until they are finally free. Next, the cloth falls away, revealing a book. A journal to be precise. Forcing myself not to get too excited, I decide to check the book first before drawing conclusions. The book is thick, black, and the cover is made of leather that has been treated to resist moisture and decay. Also, the leather has a glossy texture that catches the weak lights in the room.

As I flipped through the pages, reading her increasingly worrisome thoughts, the moonlight reflected off of shiny black leather. Sitting down the diary, I reached into the box, grasping the strange book. It was all black. When I’d first looked at it, the binding appeared to be leather, but it doesn’t feel or look like any leather I’ve ever seen. It was far too soft, similar to suede. The material seemed to be stretched over a symbol and as I circled my ring finger along the ridges, the padlock holding it shut popped open. “Not fucking creepy at all.”

I said. "And the outside pocket," he said. "For the survey notebook." "Yes," I said. He looked at the sketch. He touched the outside pocket drawing. "Flat so it doesn't bulk," he said. "Yes," I said. "So I can tell what page I'm on without taking it out," he said. I looked at him. "Can you?" I said. "I can feel the page through the cover," he said. "If the pocket is flat enough." He paused. "The current coat has a round bottom pocket. The notebook gets lost in it."

When Liam was pulled free, before anyone could say anything else, he pulled out a brown leather bag from behind him and dropped it on his lap, taking a deep breath as he let his eyes fall drastically on me. It should be wrong to look at someone that way. I took my space back as the girls turned their attention to the bag. The evening was getting darker and the students were getting fewer but the atmosphere hasn’t been any tenser. The leather bag would’ve been more of a purse if it was smaller but since it was almost the size of a backpack, it was more of a laptop bag. The bag was as plain as an innocent child but so thick that I was sure it could stop a bullet. At least now I know what to us

He carefully wrapped the canvas pieces together with strips of fabric he tore from his own clothes. His most precious find, however, was a cache of dried berries and seeds. He recognized some of them from his childhood – hardy plants that survived even the harshest conditions. These would offer a meager source of sustenance during his journey. He meticulously stored them in the pockets of his jacket and secured his metal bucket and canvas patches to his backpack, every piece of his scavenged hoard precious. He even managed to salvage a broken piece of mirror, reflecting only a distorted image, yet invaluable for checking his condition.

she said before she left my room. I look at the purse. It is a small, clutch-style purse, crafted from soft lavender leather, adorned with subtle floral patterns embossed along its edges. It is beautiful and I like it. A dainty silver clasp secures its contents, while slender chain allows it to be carried gracefully on my shoulder if needed. Inside, the purse can only hold essentials. I put my lipstick, cellular phone, and my delicate handkerchief in and carefully arranged it to maintain the purse’s tidy appearance.

Damian’s POV The zipper’s teeth scraped shut slowly, each pull deliberate. Not rushed. Not careless. The kind of sound that lingered just long enough to be carried through the hallway, into the wrong ears. The bag was small—a black leather holdall, polished from years of use, and exactly the size that suggested a quick, routine business trip. Nothing dramatic. Nothing suspicious… at least not to someone who didn’t know better.

I removed it. Leaning the other way in the chair, I pulled out the drawer on my right, several large folios of pack documents piled high in this larger drawer. I pulled out one in particular, the cover embossed with markings that indicated this included ledgers of non-profits and other organizations traditionally overseen by the Aperture Luna. The binder was thick, and despite being lifted and placed on the desk, didn’t open. The edges had been sculpted so finely and painted so carefully to look like paper, that anyone rifling through the desk would have never realized this was in fact, no binder at all. I had almost missed it myself, the first time I had been cleaning out Sienna’s things.

Running his fingers through his hair, he glared at the offending wallet and asked, “What are we gonna do about it?” Raven closed her eyes and let out another sigh. “I guess I’ll have to return it.” The wallet in her hands looked to be of high quality and the baby soft leather felt nice to the touch. Looking down, she noted the soft chocolate color of the fine leather. It was stitched with black thread but the stitches were sewn, so you could see just a hint of the darker color. She opened the wallet and saw the credit cards lined up on one side. Flipping the insert, she could see another line of cards along with his driver’s license and other forms of ID. She really wanted to take out his dr