Pocketbook Crossbody Novels & Stories

Aria was glad. "Mom..." she mumbles. She holds the pendant her mother has given her when she was a child trying to calm herself in her sleep. She turns around and grabs onto something hard. In her thought, she thinks she was still in the forest and doesn't mind of the hard thing. Instead, she hugs it tight and cuddles on it, just like the old days when she lives in the dark forest. Yet, no matter how much she tries to ignore it, she feels something strange. She open her eyes slowly and peek a little to the thing. It was tawny, muscled, and hard. Her eyes widen when she realize what the thing is. She immediately let go and out of a sudden, kick the man beside her in surprise... "Conri?"

He arrived on Monday with one bag. It was the same bag he had carried since he was nineteen, a black duffel with a broken zip on the front pocket that he had fixed with a safety pin three years ago and never replaced. It held everything that mattered: three changes of clothes, his training gear, the burner phone, a charger, his father's folder in a waterproof sleeve at the bottom beneath everything else, and the flash drive in the inner pocket that he kept zipped even when everything else was open.

‘That is the main priority right now. With a swift movement, she put the phone back and then proceeded to adjust the sleeves of her uniform blouse while discreetly pushing the safety button of her mini crossbow—this disables the crossbow— that there is n needle in the firing cartridge and that the launching stage of the crossbow was concealed entirely to the training wrist wrap that was fashioned into a metal form. Making it easier to hide the metal mini crossbow and yet no one would suspect as it was hidden inside her sleeves and that if people did see it, they would think that it was just a simple wrist wrap.

Canus took a significant amount of blood from me, so alongside my tumultuous thoughts is the persistent ache of thirst. I’ve changed my sweatpants out for a pair of jeans, but I’ve left my jumper as is. With me is one of those decorative rucksacks, but one that’s as functional as it’s aesthetic. In it is my new wallet and my smartphone. Thank Nox it’s a Saturday night and the shops were open for me to buy my accessories, and thank London for its continued proliferation of nomadic cabbies.

I wore a simple black off-shoulder and ragged white pants, I paired it with a black topsider for women. I just let my hair hang down to my ass. I put a little orange marmalade lip tint and Johnson powder. I didn't bring a bag with me, everything is inside my pocket, my wallet fits in my pocket. My cellphone is in my ass pocket too, I'll just hold it when we take a taxi so it won't be crushed.

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.

She strolled to her closet and took her luggage out from the dusted wardrobe. She had packed a few clothes in her luggage and squeezed some cash and her phone into her LV Palm Springs backpack. She had also taken her Cartier bracelet and Bvlgari necklace with her. These were her babies and she was not ready to give them up.

This thing is absolutely priceless, a must for traveling too. Luna didn’t have one, yet she was willing to give it to Alex just like that, which was very generous of her. Alex then inserted his spiritual conscience into the area within the storage purse and realized that it was around ten cubic inches, a rather large space considering it was just a purse. Most were just a few cubic inches after all. If one only had one cubic inch, the owner could only store some important personal items. Surprisingly, a sword and a worn-out talisman were inside.

He wouldn’t be needing his belongings anytime soon, and she desperately needed any advantage she could find. Moving with a quiet purpose, she knelt beside him, her senses still on high alert, scanning the surrounding trees for any sign of movement. Her fingers deftly went through his pockets, finding a crumpled packet of cheap cigarettes, a few coins, and a worn leather wallet. Inside the wallet, amidst a collection of faded photographs and a couple of small denomination bills, she found it, a small, generic burner phone. It was old, scratched, and likely had limited battery, but it was a lifeline. A surge of relief mixed with renewed urgency coursed through her.

I whisper to Grant. “No, but you do.” I’m confused. “What? No I don’t. I left everything I own back in the penthouse.” Grant unclasps the plastic buckles on the backpack straps, which I had forgotten I was wearing, and pulls it into his lap. Then he unzips the back. There’s a jumble of different things inside. I see a passport, a cell phone, a bunch of plastic credit cards, some metal tools, some putty, what appears to be a switchblade knife –