Brand New Sam: Creative Text
Brand New Sam Sam was going to die. Tree branches scratched his face as he ran. The snow seeped through his boots and socks and numbed the heels of his feet. He ducked behind a tree and pulled the revolver from his belt. The chamber popped open and six holes lay inside, each devoid of bullets. “Fuck.” He put the gun back in its holster and continued to move. The tree line was just ahead, but Sam knew that about five meters behind it was the huge wall that cut the forest off from any kind of civilisation. If he got to that clearing, death awaited. He altered his direction and, as if fate wanted to spite him, his toe became lodged under the root of a tree and his face collided with snow. He heard crunches in the snow as someone made their way towards him. “Hello, Sammy,” Kay said behind him and Sam knew without turning around that he had a smug grin on his face. He heard him cock his gun and in an instant he flipped onto his back and pulled out...