comparing your characters

Walking is falling and poor old Harry’s control of his legs just didn’t seem up to the job. His skinny frame seemed to rush towards the future faster and faster, his body straining forward, arms arcing, legs barely keeping up.
Frost lay on the ground thick as a beetle’s brow the day that Harry came to a screaming, almost cartwheeling stop. There was silence as he looked up from the bird’s nest that gravity and momentum had made of his body and as he did so, staring into the deep blue arc above him an expression of utter serenity crept over his features. Creases ironed themselves out, his jutting jaw became soft as chewing gum and narrowed eyes became wide and green as tropical oceans.
Expecting colourful scenes of his life to roll through his mind, he was surprised to see a blank white screen.
Expecting a high and mighty judgement, he was disconcerted to see small red letters appear.
He had time to blink – twice – before the sky switched off, closely followed by everything else.


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