I do have a question though how do I earn money? My other account Hope Mills has a purchasing bug where I can't purchase a cauldron. Please delete the Hope Mills account and let me use this account.

I am 11 years old, although people tell me I look younger than that due to my slightly small frame. I have pale, light blonde hair that hangs slightly past my shoulders, which is always a bit messy, no matter what I do with it. It naturally goes straight, although sometimes falls into mild waves when the weather is damp, and I generally tuck it behind my ears, although stray wisps invariably fall in my face.
I have very clear green eyes that I am often told are brighter when I am out in the sunshine. They are probably my best feature, although the fair skin against which they stand out burns quite easily compared to how quickly ittans. My nose is fairly small and I have a light freckling across my cheeks, which is less pronounced than it is in summer.
I am quite thin, with thin shoulders and long legs which I still feel I haven't fully grown into. My hands are quite small and my fingers usually stained black from either pen or paint. It seems I have a streak of dirt or something else smeared across my face at least once a day, which is pointed out to me more by my mother than anyone else.
I always tend to dress plainly in comfortable clothes such as thin jumpers and skirts or leggings, generally in light or brown colours. I wear no makeup, nor do I dye my hair –

I suppose the easiest way to describe myself is by imagining my brain as a small, perpetually shifting library. I'm genuinely fascinated by pretty much anything and always have to know why, even when people groan and say that I’ve asked too many questions already. I observe these small details that no one else really does notice, when the corner of someone's smile doesn't quite reach their eyes or when the breeze turns just before a storm.

When I'm around new people I can be a little reserved at first, but when I'm comfortable enough my words sort of just rush out as though I've been bottling them up all day. I enjoy conjuring stories or just thinking up 'what if' scenarios. In fact, I get so wrapped up in the worlds I create, I sometimes lose sight of whatever I'm meant to be doing.

I value my loved ones very much and the way I experience feelings is quite intense. When I'm happy, I feel bubbly and bright, and when I'm unhappy I feel heavy, as though there is a backpack filled with stones upon my shoulders. But still, I try to remain fair and compassionate; I dislike it when other people feel lonely or mistreated.

I suppose I am also stubborn. If I really believe that something is right then I will defend that conviction with great conviction, even if it makes me life more complicated than it needs to be. However, alongside this there's a sense that I am constantly learning, constantly evolving. I'm as though I am still figuring out who I'm eventually going to become.

If you were to ask my loved ones to describe me, they’d probably say I’m an observant person. I notice the way the light hits the kitchen tiles first thing in the morning, how the air smells just before it rains.

My mom works at the local library, so I’ve always been a bookworm. I spent more time there than any other place, wandering between book stacks that I imagined were secret passageways, windows into other lives. At an early age, I was conscious of having two selves. There was the self I lived out day to day, residing with my parents on a narrow, humdrum street in a small, neighborly town in which everyone knew everyone else’s business, and there was the self I preferred, the self I spent most time being.

My dad says I ask too many questions. And he has a point. My bottomless curiosity pushes me to try to make sense of how things work and why people do what they do. I scribble in a notebook under my pillow things I notice and think about. At school, I’m in the middle of the pack — not the most popular, but not a loser.

I have a few good friends. The sequel, unfortunately, loses that magic. No characters are more fully sketched than two-ply paper. Since I was a kid, I’ve been convinced that there is more to this world than meets the eye. There’s the way that person looks at another when they think no one is watching, the feeling in the air portending change before it happens.

But I have not felt this unfolding in any dramatic sense. It has been on the periphery. But I am curious and a bit obstinate, always looking for something (though I’m not sure what). Perhaps that is the truest thing I can tell you about me. I’ve always felt like there’s more to the world than what you can see at first glance.

If I had to describe myself, I’d say I’m curious, a little stubborn, and always searching for something—even if I don’t know exactly what it is yet. If I had to describe myself, I’d say I’m curious, a little stubborn, and always searching for something—even if I don’t know exactly what it is yet.

I was nine. It was one of those typical gloomy, not quite raining, sort of afternoons and I was in the garden, attempting to climb up the old apple tree, "You are not to attempt any semblance of circus performance, understand?"Mum had said just prior. Of course that was reason enough.
I almost reached the lowest, broadest, really strong branch, before my foot gave way.
Everything froze, for a horrible second, that feeling in your stomach like the world had tilted and then forgotten about you. And I knew: I am going to hurt.
And I didn't.
Instead of hurtling towards the ground I just… stopped.
Not grabbed, stopped. Suspended at about eight feet in the air, like someone had pressed a paused button on my falling body. My arms and legs were flailing uselessly about me and I was far too shocked to feel any fear.
Then almost as abruptly as I'd stopped, I was drifting - actual drifting, and I swear I felt a distinct, but soft resistance that pulled me across to the lawn and I landed there softly, as if I'd been gently placed by somebody unseen.
I lay there, eyes fixed on the above tree and my heart beat like a trapped drum against my ribs. The leaves on the branches swayed lazily above me, completely oblivious to a nerve racking fall