Children S Messenger Bags
Travel Bags For Children
The changing seasons are coming up. This means that adults and kids alike will be traveling to be with family and so forth. Here are some things that you will need to know about travel bags for kids.
When it comes to travel bags for kids, you should make it fun. When kids travel, they should have a carry on bag as well as a luggage. The best part is letting them pick out these bags so it’s something that they want to carry. They will be excited to use these.
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i don’t think they look tacky at ALL!
in fact, i love them (:
What do you think of a bag like this as a school bag? Is it tacky or stylish?
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/VINTAGE-ITALIAN-LEATHER-SATCHEL-MESSENGER-SCHOOL-BAG-BR-/280530071090?cmd=ViewItem&pt=UK_Women_s_Vintage_Clothing&hash=item4150e52e32
I like these vintage leather satchels that my mum had for school as a child and I would like one as a school bag, but do you think they look tacky?
Wow That was amazing! I write too but wow! It did sound like chapter 1 though…
My recommendations are:
You seem to be foreshadowing something, but the foreshadowing is mixed up and unclear.
Like when you said I was born different-you imply that you were born sad and worthless, only meant to observe and never experiance.
But when you say it all started with your father, you imply that he stripped you of ur innocents and self worth.
When you say your a redhead among blondes and burnetts, that implys that possiable social awkwardness and core difference caused you to aleinate yourself from others and happieness-thus stripping you of ur innocents and self worth.
I’m not sure where your going with this story, but it seems pretty interesting. I would love to see if you plan to throw in any paranormal twists.
Why are kids growing up so quickly today?
I see it all the time kids that are 12 or 13 hanging around Cinemas or shopping centes dressed up to the nines in all the latest fashion trends and caked in make-up….
But I saw a group of girls today in the supermarket and one of them was wearing a REAL (believe me Ican tell or it must have been a very convincing fake) Louis Vuitton messenger bag… WTF??! I live in a working class area so this is not ‘normal’.
Kids being an adult is not what it’s cracked up to be, and your an adult for a good 50, 60, or if you’re really healthy 80 years. Climb some trees, hang around at the park, be kids for a change.
I wonder if Mr S. Freud would have anything to say about this?
Is it materialism gone mad? Do children have a childhood today?
yes kids have a childhood today but it is different from ours. We did not have TV or PCs we knew very little of the big wide world. We had small, homely communities, they have the world wide web. It was easier for us , life was slower. I feel for the youth of today ,life moves at such a pace and everything that gives them pleasure costs a small fortune. I am lucky my grandchildren still enjoy simple things like football, swimming,cycling and so on but the ads on tv also make them feel they must have all the latest materialistic things also. We did not have the option of the costly stuff when we were young, if we had would we have been any different from today’s kids?.
How does this chapter sound so far?
My messenger bag hit against the back of my knees like it always did. My legs are numb to the feeling now, or maybe I just don’t care about the pain anymore. I don’t really care about anything anymore, do I? I could already hear Veronicas` rant about me needing to enjoy life. But, how could you enjoy something you never truly had? Since, the day of my birth almost fifteen years ago I was different. A redhead among a sea of black and blond. Instead of playing dolls with other little girls I just sat and watched as other lives were lived. A little morbid, yes. But, my thoughts always seem to be that way. Disrespecting my worth, if I even have worth in this world. But, I’ve always been called worthless. I think it all started that one day with my father. That’s when the spiral began.
“Demi!” yelled the dark headed girl at the door.
“Hello, Veronica.” I greeted her, giving a curt nod.
Her house was much bigger then mine, but she did live on the rich side of the state. When, we were small children she lived in Crown City, Ohio. I remember the big field we ran in, and going to the top of the hill even though we were told not to. We still had a cemetery near her house though. The darkness within me feeds on the sadness that lies within them. Why was I born with darkness within me? That why I had trouble sleeping at night. The dreams filled with death and blood were becoming too much for me, because I began seeing myself killing those I care dearly about. Their blood stained my Scythe, and I just laughed. I woke up in terror of what I did. I can feel my darkness slowly growing stronger. Soon I will be a mere shell to it. It’s host if you will, a vessel for its essence. I’ll be stripped of my mortality. Doomed to live a never ending life. I do not fear death, I fear living. For life has never been a good friend to me.
I felt around the inside of the pocket of my American Army jacket that was my mothers during the Golf War. My fingers gripped around the rectangular box. We must be fools if we think this is the answer to our problems. It’s an escape. So, numb and intoxicated our minds can’t process the world around us. I could smell the nicotine already. I hate the smell it reminds me of being beaten and told I was a worthless good for nothing. The cold water rushing over my head from one of the many ice baths I took as a child. I thought I was going back…. never mind It’s not important, not anymore. I could hear the distant snapping of fingers. The yells of an ignored girl trying to gain the attention of her spaced out friend.
“Demi! Hello! Are you alive?” she yelled waving her arms frantically.
“I am fine. Shall we go to the tree house?” I replied, calmly.
She began to walk towards the back door leading to the large yard with an oak tree in the center of it.
How does the beginning of this chapter sound so far?
My messenger bag hit against the back of my knees like it always did. My legs are numb to the feeling now, or maybe I just don’t care about the pain anymore. I don’t really care about anything anymore, do I? I could already hear Veronicas` rant about me needing to enjoy life. But, how could you enjoy something you never truly had? Since, the day of my birth almost fifteen years ago I was different. A redhead among a sea of black and blond. Instead of playing dolls with other little girls I just sat and watched as other lives were lived. A little morbid, yes. But, my thoughts always seem to be that way. Disrespecting my worth, if I even have worth in this world. But, I’ve always been called worthless. I think it all started that one day with my father. That’s when the spiral began.
“Demi!” yelled the dark headed girl at the door.
“Hello, Veronica.” I greeted her, giving a curt nod.
Her house was much bigger then mine, but she did live on the rich side of the state. When, we were small children she lived in Crown City, Ohio. I remember the big field we ran in, and going to the top of the hill even though we were told not to. We still had a cemetery near her house though. The darkness within me feeds on the sadness that lies within them. Why was I born with darkness within me? That why I had trouble sleeping at night. The dreams filled with death and blood were becoming too much for me, because I began seeing myself killing those I care dearly about. Their blood stained my Scythe, and I just laughed. I woke up in terror of what I did. I can feel my darkness slowly growing stronger. Soon I will be a mere shell to it. It’s host if you will, a vessel for its essence. I’ll be stripped of my mortality. Doomed to live a never ending life. I do not fear death, I fear living. For life has never been a good friend to me.
I felt around the inside of the pocket of my American Army jacket that was my mothers during the Golf War. My fingers gripped around the rectangular box. We must be fools if we think this is the answer to our problems. It’s an escape. So, numb and intoxicated our minds can’t process the world around us. I could smell the nicotine already. I hate the smell it reminds me of being beaten and told I was a worthless good for nothing. The cold water rushing over my head from one of the many ice baths I took as a child. I thought I was going back…. never mind It’s not important, not anymore. I could hear the distant snapping of fingers. The yells of an ignored girl trying to gain the attention of her spaced out friend.
“Demi! Hello! Are you alive?” she yelled waving her arms frantically.
“I am fine. Shall we go to the tree house?” I replied, calmly.
She began to walk towards the back door leading to the large yard with an oak tree in the center of it. It held a wooden tree house with vines growing around it giving that ancient and forgotten look to it. But, it was far from forgotten. The vines represent our memories and that’s why they must stay to comfort us in our darkest hours. Memories of the time things were so very simple. Before everything began to change. Before Damen and his company began to plague my every thought. To the point I could no longer deny the curse on my blood. The blood of those who stand beside the Morningstar, Lucifer, Satan. My relatives that fell from the paradise called Heaven.
It isn’t edited yet by the way. Oh, it’s chapter 12 not the first chapter.
How do you think of my story? (this is loooong!)?
1.
Today, my teacher screws up
Today was first awesome field trip of the year. Each year, we would get to go on two field trips. This was our first. It’s almost Halloween, and we pick another one two weeks from summer. We chose downtown Chicago. We were supposed to be given a tour. Well, I hope because I know that downtown of Chicago was supposed to be gorgeous. I lived in the suburb of it. I had to be good today, especially good. Everyone knew I wasn’t a goody good girl. I was kinda a trouble maker, but not that big of one. What stumps the teachers is how I got smart. I mean, I’m in advanced everything, reading, math, science, etc. But what really stumps the teachers is how I’m a girl and a trouble maker and smart. Ha, go let them figure.
Anyway, my English teacher, Mrs. Loleta, told us that we needed to pack a lunch and a small bag. I dung out an old tan messenger bag that was still durable. Then, I threw in a water bottle, three packs of sour Skittles, my wallet, and my black with silver blue designs Droid cell phone, then put on my shade of green sunglasses. Then, I threw in a violate hoodie, and lip gloss and my cherry lip balm. After that, I packed in an apple, and my two packs of gum. Yeah, a great lunch.
Throwing on my red Columbia coat, I yelled my mom bye, and headed out the door. Since the field trip was going to all day, I didn’t need to bring my actual backpack which was a checkered electric blue and black messenger bag which was a bit bigger and thicker than the one I’m carrying now.
“Hey,” my friend, Jana, said.
“Hey, pulling through with Mrs. LOL at your back,” I asked. Mrs. Loleta’s nickname that I made up for her was Mrs. LOL.
The reason for that was because she loved to laugh out loud. Literally. Last time I told a joke, she laughed her beep off. Like:
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
That was totally a record, that I started calling her Mrs. LOL or Mrs. Laughing-her-beep-off. That was a day to remember.
“Well, Mrs. LOL’s really buggin’ me like heck ’cause she never leaves me alone. Like ‘Jana, how is your mother?’ or ‘Jana how is your father’ or even worse, ‘how is your grandpa’” Jana shivered.
I laughed. “Now, Jana, Mrs. Laughing-her-beep-off isn’t that old . . . not,”
We laughed.
“OH MY GOSH! WE’RE GOING FREAKING DOWNTOWN!” my friend Ashley screamed in my ear.
“Ashley, my ear’s gonna go downtown hell if you scream like that again,” I said, rubbing my ear.
She ignored me. “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! I FREAKING CAN’T BELIEVE IT!”
“My ear can’t believe someone could sound worse that a dying cat,” I muttered.
Ashley and Jana laughed.
“Shh, Ms. Two’s coming, she would kill us if she heard you screaming and you swearing,” Jana chuckled.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “So, we’re going downtown and going to Michigan Avenue, brought your money?”
“HECK YEAH!” Ashley and Jana said at once.
“CHILDREN! DO NOT SWEAR!” Mrs. Two scolded.
“Sorry, Mrs. Two,” we said quietly.
“I swear, these children get worse by the second,” she muttered, and walked off.
We ignored her last comment, and smiled at each other. This is gonna be the BEST DAY EVER . . . apart from the parties, but . . . yeah. No one can ruin this for me, no one.
The yellow bus that a giant called a Twinkie came around the corner, and we boarded it. I took the one person seat and Ashley and Jana shared the big seat.
“Well, we did studying of the people around the village and the old people would pay more than thirty year old parents. They also give you good hot coco,” Ashley said.
We smiled.
“So, Jana and I headed there and raked the leaves, sold chocolate bars, and sugar free chocolate bars,” Ashley explained.
“Cool! How much did you get?”
“Seventy dollars!” Jana exclaimed. “So, we each get sixty nine dollars and the one dollar we would donate it,”
“Nah, I have a better idea,” I said, brainstorming a hurricane in my head.
“Here, Alex, we’ll give you a dollar if you dance with Ashley at the dance tomorrow, OK?” I asked.
OK, Alex is this really hot guy at school. OK, this OK guy at school. He’s really athletic and a gym teacher’s model. What makes him hotter is that he has a scar going across his left eye, but it’s just a scar, and I told you, he’s an OK guy at our school.
“A dollar?” Alex asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes or no?”
He thought for a moment, “I’ll tell you at the dance,”
“Meanie,” I muttered.
He laughed, and walked away.
“He’s. So. CUTE!” Ashley and Jana said at once.
I rolled my eyes again, “Can’t wait ’till Fred’s party,”
“I KNOW RIGHT!” Ashley exclaimed.
“Girls, girls, quiet down!” our librarian scolded.
We clamped shut our mouths, and when she passed us, we giggled like normal girls.
“Immature,” Starcie sneered, and pushed us through.
“Brat,” Ashley murmured.
“Yeah, yeah, well, s
(OK, i’m only eleven sooo, tell me your advice from there)