MATT DRABBLE: Look Who's Stalking

LOOK WHO’S STALKING

By matt drabble

Copyright © 2016 by Matt Drabble

Sienna Thompson walked across the parking garage erratically. The long dark shadows were capable of hiding just about anything from her line of sight and she had plenty of reasons to be nervous. The phone in her pocket was her lifeline to the world, but in recent weeks it had become a millstone around her neck. It used to be that she lived for the chimes of the electronic device calling her name, but now every time it sprung into life her heart sank and her stomach rolled.

She was normally a confident and capable woman. A litigator with one of the top law firms in London, her gender had never held her back because she’d never let it. She let the boys play their games while she’d played her own. She was sure that there must be some lines in business that she shouldn’t cross; she just hadn’t met one yet. As far as she was concerned, there were few rules when it came to getting ahead in life and if the boys wanted to play rough then she’d show them just how rough she could play.

Her head whipped around to one side as something moved off in the shadows and she quickened her pace, her expensive heels click-clacking on the stone ground as she hurried. She was an athletic woman who believed in a sound body leading to a sound mind. She ate right and exercised to the point that would leave most people unconscious, but life was a war and she intended to be the last one standing.

She already had her keys in her hand as she approached her car. She pressed the remote and the vehicle’s lights exploded into life, showering her in blessed illumination that forced back the shadows. It was only when she had slipped behind the wheel and slammed the door shut behind her that she released a long pent-up breath. A considerable part of her mind was trying to shame her for her fear, but right now she didn’t care. Such luxuries were meant for brightly lit rooms surrounded by people; she could only afford to feel foolish then and not before.

The phone sparked into life in her bag and she knew that it was him without looking. Every instinct told her to just drive away without checking, but she had to look; it was becoming part of a ritual that she was increasingly unable to break.

She took the phone out and saw that, as per usual, the number was ‘Unknown’, a sure sign that it was him messaging.

“I left you something”, the message read and she immediately started to look around the small sports car in panic. There was nothing on show and nothing out of place, so her hand trembled slightly as it moved forwards to open the glove compartment.

Inside was a small plastic doll. The female was – predictably - suffering from the sort of grotesquely out of proportion figure that would have made a real woman fall forwards onto her face. But this doll had also been altered by his hand: this doll’s face had been melted with no little care; it was this attention to detail that scared her the most. Anyone could throw a brick through a window in a moment of wild uncontrolled anger, but this man had taken his time to send a message.

She opened the window and threw the doll out, knowing that she ought to keep it for evidence but unable to stand the burnt smell any longer. The car roared into life and drove out of the garage too fast and almost collided with a passing delivery van as she hit the street. Normally she would have answered the van driver’s obscene finger gestures with a few of her own, but now she just peeled away from the kerb as fast as the powerful car engine could manage. 

It had been Hilary Danter who had first introduced her to Damien. Hilary was married to Sienna’s boss, and while the woman wasn’t about to have her own career, she did make socialising an Olympic sport.

Henry Danter’s family had founded the company some 100 years ago, a prestigious law firm servicing only a select few families in the capital. Appearance was everything to Henry and the man took great pride in his firm’s reputation. Henry had a picture-perfect family that looked great in portraits hung over a fireplace, but that hadn’t stopped Sienna from sleeping with him during a company retreat when the word around the office was that she was about to be overlooked for a promotion.

She had no qualms about using whatever weapons she had at her disposal which included sex with Henry Danter and inserting herself into Hilary’s inner circle of friends. If truth were told, she preferred the sex to the friendship as at least with Henry it was all over relatively quickly but Hilary’s friendship took far more effort to maintain.

The trouble, of course, with convincingly pretending to be a friend to Hilary was that the woman soon took it as a personal mission to fix her up with one of the many eligible bachelors that could be found within the pages of the woman’s extensive social diary.

Damien was a 42 year old solicitor with impeccable manners and a family tree to die for, so Hilary told it. He was handsome, well educated, and fabulously wealthy. On paper even Sienna had to admit that he seemed perfect. So with only a little private reluctance she’d agreed to a first date.

The restaurant was suitably swanky and reassuringly expensive. Sienna gave the valet her keys and allowed him to park her baby after a stern warning.

She had dressed, as always, for herself, wearing a black Valentino dress that flowed beautifully while hugging her at all the right curves. She knew that she was drawing stares as she entered the restaurant and was satisfied with a battle won.

The maitre d’ led her through the crowded tables until a tall attractive man stood to greet her. His suit was handmade and tailored to fit his frame. His face was smooth and his hair was well groomed. His eyes sparkled in an almost impossible blue hue and there was the faintest hint of challenge in his expression. At their first meeting she had to admit that she was looking at her mirror opposite.

Dinner had been punctuated with pleasant conversation mixed in between the slightest of jabs as they felt each other out. Initially she’d only gone along to keep up appearances with Hilary and to make sure that her boss’s wife never suspected that they’d been intimate in the past. Once she’d gotten her promotion she’d shut Henry’s advances down. She would no longer need to sleep with him; the threat of telling his wife was more than enough leverage.

The evening had passed along pleasantly enough and she’d even entertained the idea of going home with him, that was, until dessert.

Normally, she didn’t have a problem with scolding the help when they weren’t up to the job, but after Damien’s order was wrong, he had snapped. The conversation between them had been jogging along nicely, but when a young waitress had set down a peach plum rose tart instead of a panna cotta, the man had snapped. There had been a flushing red anger to his face that spoke of a lack of control that Sienna had found immediately off-putting. She was no stranger to giving anyone the sharp side of her tongue but it had been when Damien had grabbed the young waitress’s arm - not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make the girl flinch - that Sienna had put the brakes on the evening.

She’d feigned tiredness and spoke of an early start the next morning. She had also informed him in the middle of the restaurant that she didn’t see any second date in their near future. She believed in ending things when they needed ending and she had little concern for the man’s feelings.

He’d bristled at the rejection and started to rant about the cost of the evening, showing his true nature and it was an ugly one. He’d started to vent his fury at her with some choice names about being a tease.  He’d instinctively reached across the table to grab her hand in much the same way that he’d grabbed the waitress, but Sienna was having none of it. She’d thrown a full glass of expensive Merlot in his face much to his shock and the delight of the waitress nearby.

She’d stood up from the table and told him that she was already seeing someone else and had only taken the date as a courtesy to Hilary.

Damien had taken that news with a stony expression and had gone worryingly silent on her. His body language was stiff and she felt waves of annoyance radiating from him as the wine, which he refused to wipe away, dripped from his face. His eyes had sunk even deeper when she’d offered to pay the bill, more as an added insult than any olive branch offering, and she hadn’t been able to get out of there fast enough.

She’d retrieved her car from the valet outside and the last time that she’d Damien was when she caught sight of him standing on the street corner in the rain just staring at her as she pulled away.

Her life had continued on its path and, over the next day or two, she’d forgotten all about her date that had turned creepy. She’d shrugged off Hilary’s questions with tales of incompatibility but had agreed to try again with another of Hilary’s suggestions in the future.

It had been about a week later when she’d started to notice little things. When getting into her car one day she couldn’t find her sunglasses. They were missing from where she always kept them on the little clip on the sun visor but then she found them in the glove compartment. The next day the television remote was in the fridge. Now she knew that occasionally she could be a little absent-minded, especially if work was on her mind, but she was sure that she’d never done that before. Then there was the creeping feeling that she was being watched.

It started at a supermarket where she’d been picking up a few bits and pieces late one night after work. The supermarket had been almost empty at that hour which was how she liked it.

She’d been standing in an aisle trying to decide between two varieties of muesli when she’d had the strongest sensation that she was being watched. She’d whipped her head around only to spot a flash of movement and then no one. She’d charged down the aisle only to find it deserted. She’d wanted to feel silly, but somehow the sense of threat didn’t dissipate.

This went on for the next week or so. She’d feel like someone was watching her, only to turn around and find herself alone. It might be walking on the street or dining in a restaurant. Sometimes when she was driving, she would feel like she was being followed and would start to take random left and right turns while intently watching the rearview mirror, but she would always be left without any clear proof.

The sense of creeping paranoia started to take hold over the next two weeks. It got to the point where she would feel suspicious of everything and everyone. In meetings she would become distracted from the words and instead find herself concentrating on faces. She was not sleeping at nights and found herself sitting bolt upright at the slightest noise outside and then sitting there until the sun came up before she could relax.

She toyed with the idea of going to the police but more and more she became convinced that they would laugh her out of the station. She had no proof of anything other than a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

   The first time that she felt a stab of recognition was two days later: her wardrobe felt like it had been rearranged and the black Valentino dress was lying out on the bed when she came home from work. She’d only worn the dress once in the past month and that had been on the date with Damien. She’d forgotten all about the man, but now - when she closed her eyes - she could picture him standing on the street corner after their date while she drove away.

The weeks in between had heightened her sense of paranoia, and now when she closed her eyes she saw the look of menace on his face. She now saw him grabbing the waitress’s arm hard enough to break it. She saw the young girl twisting in pain and cowering in fear rather than the slight contact that it had been in reality.

Everything seemed to make sense now. She’d spurned a man obviously used to getting his own way and now this was his immature revenge. The realisation had actually been cathartic and she’d slept properly for the first time in weeks.

The next morning she’d set out with a plan to confront Damien. She was not going to be intimidated now by an unmasked stalker. With the sense of anonymity removed, he was just another pathetically weak man and there was no way that she’d be intimidated anymore.

She’d gone to the police to report the stalking only to find them less than helpful. They’d confirmed her fears about the lack of direct contact and physical evidence. She’d yet to catch the man in the act and she’d realised, much to her horror, that she couldn’t even provide them with his surname. The date had been set up by Hilary and she’d not really bothered to take in any of the man’s details when Hilary had been explaining him to her. The police took her details and promised her that they’d open a case and told her to contact them if she suffered any further instances. But in truth she could tell that they were just going through the motions. Until Damien made an appearance or threatened her directly, there was little that the authorities were going to do about it. It was up to her. 

After realising that she was light on Damien’s details, she’d arranged to meet Hilary to prise out some personal details about Damien and Hilary had sounded delighted on the phone.

They’d met in one of Hilary’s quaint bistros for lunch and the woman was already knee-deep in Chardonnay by the time that Sienna arrived.

“Darling!” Hilary greeted her loudly from across the room, waving wildly as though Sienna hadn’t already spotted her.

The woman wore as much money on her as possible at all times. Every inch of her was adorned with something expensive, from her shoes to her sunglasses; everything was top of the line and she liked to show it.

“I’m so glad that you’ve reconsidered about dear Damien. He really is quite the catch, you know.” Hilary giggled drunkenly.

“I just wanted to know a little bit more about him.”

“Like what?”

“A surname, for a start,” Sienna said, keeping her tone light.

“I didn’t tell you that?” Hilary said with a puzzled expression.

In reality Sienna was sure that the woman had told her but she hadn’t been interested enough to retain that particular piece of information.

“Afraid not,” she answered, pouring herself a glass from Hilary’s second - and almost empty - bottle.

“Cort,” Hilary announced after a very public thinking process.

“Where is he from?”

Hilary’s face puckered up again as she concentrated through the wine intake. “Barberton,” she said finally.

This time Sienna was listening and she tucked the information away.

“So sad,” Hilary said absently.

“I’m sorry?”

“Hmm?”

“You said so sad?”

“What was?”

Sienna took a deep breath and held onto her temper. Hilary could be scatty at the best of times and meeting at a bistro that served alcohol probably wasn’t the best plan.

“You said something was so sad,” she pressed gently.

“Yes – Damien. So sad.”

“WHAT WAS?” Sienna snapped, loud enough to turn a few heads from surrounding tables.

“Damien’s wife; she died a couple of years ago… so sad.”

“How did she die?” Sienna asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

“It was a break-in. The poor woman was home alone while Damien was away. She was ...” Hilary picked up a butter knife and jabbed it several times into thin air to illustrate. “Poor Damien came home a few minutes too late and found her; she died in his arms.”

“Did they catch the burglar?”

“No. Poor Damien has had to live with that ever since. Whoever did it is still out there somewhere. The tragic thing was that they’d only just reconciled. They had been... well ... his wife had a little indiscretion. Just a slight slip - could happen to any of us - but they were working through it.”

Hilary looked sad as she recounted the news. For a woman who lived for fun it was not a comfortable look on her and she reached for the wine bottle only to find it empty.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, standing unsteadily and heading for the bar at the back of the bistro, clutching the empty bottle in her manicured hand.

Sienna took the opportunity to quickly rifle through Hilary’s bag, not even pausing to admire the quality of the Chanel piece. She quickly snatched up Hilary’s phone and started to scroll through it looking for Damien’s details. She quickly found his name and took down the number and the address to go with it.

She was just putting the phone back in Hilary’s bag when she looked up suddenly to find the woman standing over her.

“What are you doing?” Hilary demanded.

“I was just admiring the Chanel,” Sienna lied, turning the bag over in her hands and slipping the phone back in. “Must have cost a fortune,” she said admiringly.

“Henry can afford it.” She laughed. “He has to be good for something!”

Sienna suffered through the rest of the lunch spending most of her time fighting off Hilary’s wine offering. Unlike her boss’s wife, she had a job to go to. But the whole time she was sat there she was only half-listening to Hilary; most of the time she was thinking about Damien - and his dead wife, stabbed by a killer that was never caught.

She left the restaurant covered in sloppy goodbye kisses from a now completely drunk Hilary. She walked quickly to her car parked behind the bistro intending to get in as quickly as possible but something on the passenger seat stopped her in her tracks. There was a large kitchen knife stabbed into the plush leather upholstery and she knew instantly who’d left it and why.

She toyed with the idea of going back to the police, but she knew in her heart that there would be no prints on the knife and she could see that there were no CCTV cameras out here. Damien was far too clever to leave himself open to exposure, especially if he’d already killed his wife, a fact that sat very comfortably with Sienna after hearing Hilary’s story.

In the end she decided to play it safe and called the police. She gave them Damien’s details and recounted the story again about their one date and the instances that she attributed to his stalking. She left out her theories over his dead wife as she could already see the male officers looking at her like she was some kind of scorned emotional woman; she definitely didn’t want to throw fuel on that fire.

When all was said and done, however, she was left discovering that her first instincts had been right all along. There were no prints on the knife or on her car. There were no cameras to capture him or witnesses. The detective she spoke to tried to explain things slowly but his condescension was palpable. He promised that he’d interviewed Damien Cort personally and had found nothing of suspicion. Damien had obviously protested his innocence and Sienna could tell that the fact she was lacking a penis was going against her when it came to being found credible by the officer. At one point he had even steered the interview around to her being the guilty party and had told her to let go of any animosity she held as a spurned lover.

It had been all she could do to hold onto her temper, especially when the detective had informed her that Damien was actually considering a restraining order against her; the indignity had nearly driven her mad with rage. She’d been sent on her way by the police who’d made all the right noises but she could tell that they weren’t taking her seriously. She knew that Damien was stalking her and she’d also realised at that point that he now knew that she knew it was him. She was on her own.

 There were times in the next week when she thought that she might genuinely be losing her mind. She wasn’t sleeping; she was drinking too much and self-medicating with painkillers that she had for an old skiing injury. She knew that her colleagues were watching her carefully as her behaviour became more and more erratic.

She started to receive phone calls all times of the day and night until she stopped answering the phone all together which really started to affect her work as clients could no longer get hold of her. The voice on the other end would never speak but she knew that it was him; he was always there watching, listening and waiting.

Eventually, Henry had called her into his office to discuss her behaviour around the office, but she could see straight through his feigned concern, however much he tried to hide it. She had discovered that pretty much everyone now had two faces: one they wore to the world and a second that only she could see.

He’d put her on sabbatical and she’d stormed out of his office accusing him of being in league with Damien. They were all men and they were all in on it together. She’d screamed accusations at Henry, not caring who was listening or what she sounded like. She just wanted them all to know that she was on to them.

  She’d stormed off to her car that night and found the doll with the burned face.

As she now drove away she realised something: the fear was real as she looked down at the doll, but so was the rising tide of anger. For the first time in her life this man had made her feel scared, an emotion that she thought beyond her. She was the commander of her life and no man was going to take that away from her. She had put up with the bullshit at work for years before turning the tables. She’d learned quickly that nobody gave you a damn thing in this world; whatever you wanted you had to take before someone else took it from you.

She had memorised Damien’s address and had driven past there a few times, wanting to catch sight of the man. His home was a large detached property and, as yet, she hadn’t caught more than a glimpse of a silhouette through his windows. She drove there now and parked outside.

Her mind was clouded as she sat there. Part of her rational side was desperately trying to get her attention, but she was too sleep deprived and angry to listen to reason. There was no one to help her and eventually Damien was going to grow bored with his campaign that operated at a distance. At some point the police were going to find her body and only then might they take her seriously.

She opened the glove compartment and took out the knife that he had left embedded in her car seat. It had been meant as a threat but now she was going to return the knife to its rightful owner. 

The night was dark and offered concealment as she crossed the road quickly, gripping the knife. She felt like a warrior queen about to reclaim herself as she ran, determined to no longer be a victim.

She slipped around the back of the house and tried the rear door. To her surprise it opened. Obviously, inhabitants of the suburbs had less to be afraid of than city dwellers like her.

The kitchen was dark as she entered, softly closing the door behind her. The surroundings seemed very mundane and not those of the monster that she’d come to despise, but she guessed that even Ted Bundy had lived in plain sight for a while with no one suspecting his true face.

She moved her way deeper into the house, drawn by the faint sounds of a television, all the while gripping the knife tightly in a sweaty fist.

There was a pair of feet sticking out from over the end of a sofa as she entered the lounge. The only light in the room was the flickering of the television casting shadows on the wall.

For the first time, she suddenly wondered what her plan actually was. She had been so filled with a desire to reclaim her life that the specifics hadn’t factored in her thinking.

“Who’s there?” he asked from his prone position as he sensed her presence.

He sat up and then stood, moving quickly. He was bigger than she remembered and he towered over her. She knew that he could quickly overpower her if he attacked but she was the only one armed.

“What the...!” His voice faltered when he spotted the knife in her hand and his face was filled with a very satisfying amount of fear.

Good, she thought, let’s see how you like it.

He held his hands up and she could tell immediately that he was a coward. He was a typical man: full of bravado when he was operating in the darkness but when confronted he crumbled like a naughty schoolboy.

“Look, I don’t know what this is about,” he said shakily.

“Yes you do,” she snarled, relishing the fear that she was instilling.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I swear.”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” she screamed. “You’re going to admit what you did to me. You’re going to admit what you did to your wife,” she said as she brandished the knife.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch!”

There was a second when she didn’t know what to do next; maybe it was sanity creeping in, but it ended when he lunged for her. In that instant she just knew that he’d been faking. He was a monster and he was going to try and take his knife back and then use it on her.

His hands reached out for her and she only just had time to get the knife up before he ran onto the blade. It slipped into his flesh with sickening ease until the handle against his chest stopped its progress. They were standing close enough to kiss in a lovers’ embrace and his eyes were bulging wildly in shock and pain before he slumped away from her and onto the floor.

She stood over his bloody body, her hand red and sticky. His eyes moved from her face to his chest as his mouth popped open and closed like a goldfish flung from its bowl. She watched with relish as he died in front of her, feeling the power filling her up and vindicating her decision to come here and finally confront him.

It was the slow handclapping that broke the spell. She looked over and saw with disbelief that Hilary was emerging from the shadows.

“You know, I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to find the balls to do it,” Hilary said as she looked down at Damien’s prone body.

“Hilary?” Sienna gasped. “What... what are you doing here? Did he... did he hurt you too?”

“Who? Damien? He wouldn’t hurt a fly!” She laughed.

“What about his wife?”

“Oh, Damien was never married.”

Sienna tried to process what was happening but her mind was too addled.

“Oh, you poor dear.” Hilary smiled. “Don’t you get it? It was me; it was all me. The phone calls, the following, the stalking, the knife, the doll - it was all me.”

“Damien...?”

“Damien never gave you a second thought after your first date. In fact, as far as he was concerned with your accusations and the police visiting him, he was under the impression that you were stalking him.”

“But... but why?”

“Because you slept my husband,” she said, all levity suddenly dropping from her face. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out, you stupid girl?”

“It didn’t mean anything,” Sienna quickly wailed. “It was just business. I was just playing their game.”

Hilary smiled coldly. “And now you’re playing mine. I knew that if I could push you over the edge then you’d end up here. You really are an easy creature to read.”

“I’ll... I’ll tell everyone! You... you won’t get away with this!” Sienna stammered.

“Really? Think about it: your behaviour these last few weeks has not gone unnoticed. You’ve been irrational, making wild claims and accusations. The police came to see poor Damien and found that he was actually a thoroughly decent fellow, a far cry from the stalking monster that you’ve painted. And when you think about it, which one of you has been acting like a stalker? You’re the one that’s been obsessed with him. You’re the one that’s been seen driving around his house on multiple occasions. I’m sure that there will be no shortage of people from the office that would testify as to your irrational behaviour. Not to mention me, your best friend, willing to talk about how - after one date - you became obsessed with Damien. I came here tonight because he was scared of you and wanted my help.”

Sienna thought about how it would all look to someone from the outside and she saw that Hilary was right. She stared down at her blood-soaked hand and the body on the floor and knew that it would all come down to whom the police believed.

“All this because I slept with Henry? You love him that much?” she asked.

“Love him? Good gracious! This has nothing to do with love, you silly girl. Henry is mine, pure and simple, and nobody takes what’s mine.” She grinned maliciously as the police sirens outside drew closer.  

GIVEAWAY

Okay, today’s giveaway is going to have you hollering so loud that you may break your windows!!! Matt is giving away THREE SETS of ALL THREE BOOKS in his GATED series!!! Yup, THREE LUCKY WINNERS will receive an ecopy of GATED, GATED II: Ravenhill Academy, and Gated III: Election Day!!!! Can I get a cheer for Matt?!!! We love Matt!!! We love Matt!!! I think I can!!!!

To win: go to the Official FB Event Page; find the post announcing  today’s giveaway; and comment, “I WANT TO WIN” in that post and you just might!!! 

OFFICIAL FB EVENT PAGE

"Matt Drabble is a name that will one day be as widely recognized as Stephen King & Dean Koontz" - READERS FAVORITE
From an award winning & best selling author with a highest Amazon Horror Author Ranking of 5th.

"Gated" is a UK & US Horror Chart Top 10 best seller, the 2015 Readers Favorite Gold Medal Winner for Horror Fiction & the 2014 Full Moon Awards Horror Book of the year.

Michael and Emily are a happy and contented English couple, a writer and a school teacher. Their lives are complete when Emily falls pregnant, however their dreams are shattered one cold winter night by a car accident that robs them of their happiness.

To overcome their loss they up stick and move to Eden Gardens, a US gated community that offers "Heaven on Earth and Twice as Nice". The people are warm and friendly and welcome them with open arms. The town is a beautiful throwback to a bygone age, where the sun always shines and the sky's always blue.

As they settle into their new perfect lives, the circle is complete when Emily falls pregnant. The town is perfect, the weather is perfect and their lives are perfect. But are the stares from their neighbours a little too intense, is the town a little too interested in their happy news, and is Eden all that it seems.

They are about to find out that paradise comes at a cost, and when you sign a lease, you should always check the fine print.

It has been 10 years since the events in the small picturesque town of Eden. Lives were forever altered as two newcomers found the courage to peek behind the curtain and bring Tolan Christian's reign to a violent end as the town burned around them.

No-one was more affected than Sarah-Jane Mears. The once bubbly ball of good nature is now a shadow of the former woman she used to be. After travelling to try and find a new home she has eventually settled in Northern England. She has taken a teaching position at Ravenhill Academy, an exclusive private school.

But now there is a new student who has just transferred. A young American boy who is strangely familiar and oddly charismatic. As the school breaks for the Christmas holidays the harsh winter weather has cut them off from the outside world. Sarah is starting to learn that Ravenhill is an old building seemingly with a life and an energy of its own, one that is slowly stirring.

She is going to realise that not all lessons are learnt in the classroom and that some secrets won't stay buried.

It's time for the multi award winning trilogy to come to an end, but will anyone be left standing.

It was the chance of a lifetime for Avery Grant, the opportunity to run an election campaign for a candidate that seemed like the real deal.

Christian Tolanson has risen through the ranks of British politics. A man with a unique ability to inspire those around him to almost cult like levels of devotion. He has lived many lives down through the ages from his humble beginnings as a child preacher. But now his life force is finally starting to fade and time is running out pushing him to desperate levels. A man consumed by his own destiny and ready to burn the world to get what he wants.

Avery will discover the path that many have walked before her and never returned from. A realization that anything that seems too good to be true, will likely get you killed.

AUTHOR BIO

Born in Bath, England in 1974, a self-professed "funny onion", equal parts sport loving jock and comic book geek. I am a lover of horror and character driven stories. I am also an A.S sufferer who took to writing full time two years ago after being forced to give up the day job.

I have a career high position of 5th on Amazon's Horror Author Rank of which I am immensely proud. I was also accepted as a full member of the Horror Writers Association.

"GATED" is the 2015 Readers Favorite Gold Medal Winner. It is also a UK & US Horror Chart Top Ten Best Seller & winner of the Full Moon Awards 2014 Horror Book of the Year.

"ASYLUM - 13 TALES OF TERROR" was a US Horror Chart #5. It was also voted #5 on The Horror Novel Review's Top 10 Books of 2013 & was the Readers Favorite 2014 Gold Medal Winner for Anthology Fiction.

"ASYLUM II" was also a UK & US Horror/Anthology #1 and is the 2016 Readers Favorite Silver Medal winner for Anthology Fiction.

"THE TRAVELLING MAN" won an Indie Book of the Day award.

"ABRA-CADAVER" was a 2015 Kindle Book Review Finalist, an Indie Book of the Day winner and the 2016 Book Excellence Award Winner for Horror Fiction.

Visit me at www.mattdrabble.com to download free short stories and the full length multi award winning novel "Abra-Cadaver" for free.

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