There’s a killer on the loose. He whisks through the night, shooting and stabbing, slaughtering and slashing, slaying and strangling—or so it reads in the paper. There’s a killer on the loose, who exposes the blurry line that exists between fact and fiction. The line that contorts to the will of the reader through the lens of their wild fantasies. There’s a killer on the loose, made of ink and newsprint, stamped onto the page in a column as wide as one’s imagination. And at the end of every story is signed the same name. A man branded with an X on his palm. Charles Foxborough. From The Back Cover "Who am I? You already know me. I’m the thoughts that lurk in the back of your head when the lights go out. The shadow in the alley that moves in the corner of your eye. You don’t want me there, but you look anyway. Just in case. I’m the news. The good, bad news. The car chases, the shootouts. Your fantasy turns reality because of me. But when they ask, you say you don’t know me. You pretend I don’t exist. Like you aren’t itching for more when the days go numb. See, Charles isn’t like you. Charles understands. He knows what I’ve done. He’s seen it. So, who am I? Charles knows, and now he’s going to show you, whether you like it or not…" - X About The Author Born in Pasadena, California, Randolph grew up in a household that encouraged artistic freedom. Through the years, he’s found various ways to tell his own stories, and at the age of 19 wrote Foxborough, his first novel. His favorite genre’s include psychological thriller, horror, and drama. When he’s not writing, he enjoys having a laugh with friends or watching a film at his favorite theater in Hollywood. An avid cinemagoer, he writes his stories as if he’s watching them on the screen for the first time.