Conjoined a Psychological Thriller by K.T. George Book Tour with Guest Post and Giveaway

 

 

At their relationship’s core lies a convergence of secrets and deception, while their heart showcases the unbreakable bond that binds two souls in a twisted dance of deceit. 

Conjoined

by K.T. George

Genre: Psychological Thriller 

Allyson Marta is a celebrated mixed-media artist dwelling in the shadows of Seattle's gritty underbelly. She struggles with Borderline Personality Disorder while grappling with the jagged edges of self-harm and past suicide attempts. Her identical twin, Andrea, is a hedonist at heart. She thrives as the vibrant art director of the cult-favorite "The Caretaker" horror movie series, which ensnares devotees in its macabre embrace. When H0rr Studios, the go-to streaming service of horror fans worldwide and Andrea's employer, reports her missing, Allyson finds herself torn between her ongoing recovery and helping to unravel the mystery shrouding her histrionic twin's whereabouts

After Roger Wotke, the star of The Caretaker, also disappears, Allyson is thrust into a perilous crossroads where the twin demons of mental anguish and familial duty collide. In a descent into the abyss of society's dark appetite for what goes bump in the night, Allyson grapples with safeguarding her tenuous sanity or delving deeper into the labyrinth of depravity that threatens to expose not just her own darkest secrets, but also those of her family.

Early reviews:

“Creepy…Addictive…” – Goodreads reviewer.

“…draws the reader in quickly and the plot, characters, dialogue…make it hard to put down.” – ARC review.

“…an especially fascinating read.” – Bookbaby Editor

“That twist at the end! Seriously freaking great! the very last page 😲 ” – Goodreads reviewer.

Amazon * Bookbaby * B&N * Bookbub * Goodreads

Excerpt #1 

Bang. Bang. Bang. The door rattled like a 7.0 earthquake.
“Allyson Marta?”
“Yes?” she croaked, placing her hand on the doorknob.
“I’m Detective Davidson. I need to ask you a few questions. May I

come in?”
Allyson’s neck and shoulders visibility tightened as if she could mag-

ically shrink herself into a tiny ball.
Grace went over and placed a hand on her back. “Just breathe.”
“I’m too stoned for this,” she whispered.
“Ms. Marta?”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me a second.” Allyson paused, her hand on the

knob, before yanking the door open to an average-height, middle-aged man dressed in the typical off-the-rack suit he probably bought at some big box retailer on sale. She leaned against the door jamb, blocking his entry.

“ID, please.” She trusted no one and always assumed the worst in people. Once he proffered his credentials and she gave them a casual glance, she allowed him to enter. Even though he was average on the outside, his presence filled the room. She and Grace observed him scanning her shelves neatly lined with knickknacks and failed art projects as if he were Hercule Poirot.

“How can I help, Detective?” she asked, scratching a nonexistent itch on her arm.

Davidson walked toward a console table with pictures arranged by size and age. Picking up a 4x6 gilded frame, he turned and held it out. “Is this you?”

“Who does it look like?” Grace hissed.
“I’m sorry. You are?” Davidson asked.
Ignoring his question, Grace cautioned, “Listen, Detective, unless

you have a warrant, state your business, and go. We are a protected class. Hispanic and emotionally challenged. Harassment is frowned upon by our treatment teams.”

Glowering, he turned to Allyson. “Is this your sister, Andrea Marta?”

“Yeah. That’s her and me at my last exhibit. She loves the camera.” Allyson played with an errant string on her shirt hem, noting to clip it later. Biting her lip, she lowered her head where her eyes caught the misaligned seam of her left sock. Suddenly, everything seemed malapropos.

“It’s hard to believe we are identical twins when you look at that pic- ture. It was like five years ago, and I’ve been going through a rough patch,” she admitted, rubbing her hand along the top of her head.

Allyson had gained thirty pounds from the drug cocktail she’d been prescribed and chopped her long tresses, leaving only an inch or so in place. Most days, it stuck out in random spikes. To add dimension and fun, she’d dyed it her favorite color, a soft lavender. She had also plucked her eyebrows and eyelashes out one by one as a non-scarring form of self-harm six months prior. They had yet to grow back. Slow hair growth was a surprise, unadver- tised side-effect of her meds.

“What’s this about anyway? Is she in trouble?” she edged, chewing at a cuticle on her right hand.

“Your sister’s employer, H0rr Studios, has reported her missing. Have you heard from her or seen her recently?”

“Do you have any idea where she might go? Anyone she would stay with, off the grid, say?”

An icy chill hugged her shoulders despite being seventy-five degrees inside her apartment, and she narrowed her gaze at Mr. Average. His ques- tions didn’t feel right to her. “Let me check my wonder twin powers and see,” she scowled and pretended to check her smartwatch.

“I told you my life was rather tragic this last year. Did I mention her visiting? Just because we share the same DNA does not give me insight into her life. If her employer reported her missing, they have more information on the ins and outs of it than I do. However, leave your card, and if some- thing comes up, I’ll call,” she offered dismissively.

Grace regarded Allyson and grinned, appreciating her out-of-char- acter assertiveness.

Detective Davidson handed the picture frame to Grace before giving Allyson his business card. “My cell is on the back. If anything comes to mind, no matter how small, text me along with her case reference number.”

“Sure,” she answered in an “I’ll get right on that” tone. Then she opened the door to encourage Davidson’s exit.

Before stepping across the threshold, the detective stopped and turned to face the two occupants, “Oh! I almost forgot. Do you know Roger Wotke?” “The Caretaker guy?” she asked, curling her lip and wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah.”

Allyson shrugged. “He works with Andrea. Oh, and I think he’s in town. Comic Con’s this weekend.”

“Yeah, he is. That freak of hotness,” Grace added dreamily. “Got me tickets for a meet and greet!”

“What does he have to do with my sister missing?” Roger and Andrea had a relationship but kept it casual and confidential. As much as she hated Andrea, she wasn’t about to give out anything that wasn’t anyone’s business but their own.

“It’s hard to say. Yet a guy who has played a psychopath for over ten years and wears his costume in public to hide his real identity is someone worth looking into, I’d say.”

Grace laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, Detective. We all wear costumes to hide our true nature. Even you.” Then they shut the door in his face.

Excerpt #2

Before Andrea could put her hand on the door handle, an unexpected voice had her staggering backward. She lost her balance and landed ass-first on the floor.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” she croaked.

Lifting back to her feet, she spun around, searching for the source. A large screen television in the living room flashed with light. She inched her way back there, cautious and hyperaware of any movement other than her own. A poor-quality video played on the screen. It was a press conference from at least a decade ago, she guessed, based on how the people were dressed. A sheriff stood at a podium, answering questions from unseen interviewers and witnesses. Flanked by people in various uniforms and credentials around their necks, one person stood out: a figure dressed in all black with their back to the camera. They were staging something along a lakefront, like the set she passed earlier from Georgia.

“What are you doing?” she asked the screen, speaking directly to the dark figure.

Ignorant of the scene behind them, the shadow focused on their work. The way they moved about was like a mysterious, sinister dance. Andrea was drawn to them and ignored the ones talking. It was as though this person was a stagehand, setting the scene for the next act while the performers distracted the crowd with their current segment. Yet, to her, they were the main act. With equal parts fascination and dread, she sat on the couch’s edge, unable to look away from what was unfolding before her. As they stepped off screen, the camera panned toward the now vacant spot.

Rows upon rows of shoes in various sizes and styles lined the shoreline. The camera panned closer and zoomed in on a particular athletic shoe. A small, white, laminated card placed under the heel read “John Doe, Lake Lanier, right foot, August 2007, US 12.”

The sheriff’s voice disrupted her trance of gruesome fascination. “Experts have tried to allay our fears that body parts washing up on various shorelines across the country over the last fifteen years are a unique phenomenon. Everything from jet streams and suicidal tendencies, to the materials shoes are made with these days. All these make body parts easier to float. The ‘scientific’ findings have been interesting. Too much time and money has been wasted to debunk what we, as investigators on the front line, feel intuitively. Based on the consistency of the findings in this area alone: Men’s size 12, right feet only . . . Folks, we have concluded we are indeed dealing with a serial killer.”

Without warning, the TV blinked black, and the lighting in the room dimmed before growing bright twice in quick succession as if the building had experienced a power surge. Following the strange light display, a mechanical hum sounded from the bedroom. She jumped up and skipped towards it, both inexplicably frightened and exhilarated. When she arrived at the doorway, she found a man standing there, although he was more like an image from an old movie projector. Wavy lines made him appear like one of those balloon people flapping in the breeze.

It wasn’t this appearance that terrified Andrea. Nor was it how one side of his head was sunk in as if he’d been battered with a wrecking ball. Not even his shiny eye sockets that glittered like glossy, deep, miniature black holes bothered her. It was his voice.

“Hola, querida.” The man smiled broadly, exposing blackened nubs where teeth once were. “You’ve seen better days too.” He waggled a bony finger at her head.

The plip-pop of water dripping from his clothes onto the hardwood floor caused her to break eye contact. A puddle formed where his feet should’ve been. Instead, his damp pant legs brushed the surface. Andrea’s hand shook as she reached up to pat the side of her head, where he indicated. She cried out when her fingers dipped inward where her skull should have been smooth. Hers was a mirror image of his. Without hesitation, she pulled it away, holding back a scream when her hand came away sticky and wet. Counting to four to steady her nerves, she found her fingers covered in a dark ooze. She tried to reason it was from the bottle that spilled on her back in the storage closet. Bringing her fingers to her nose, she gave them a quick sniff before flicking her tongue out for a taste. It was blood. Andrea’s insides flipped as she turned to flee.

“Run, little rabbit,” the man’s baritone voice bellowed with a distinct Spanish accent. “You know . . .”

“How I love the chase!” she finished, surprised at her outburst. At this revelation, the lights flickered one more time before she was immersed in complete darkness with a ghost from her past. 

Title: Behind the Scenes: The Creation of "Conjoined" and Navigating the Twists of Thriller Writing

 

Welcome to the suspense-filled world of "Conjoined," my debut novel, where every page whispers secrets and shadows loom at every corner. The genesis of this thriller unfolds a journey as serendipitous as the plot twists within its chapters. Today, I invite you to peek behind the curtain to discover the origins, the intricate writing process, and what lies ahead for my writing endeavors.

The Spark of Inspiration

The story of "Conjoined" began rather unexpectedly. I participated in NYCMidnight’s short story challenge, a contest designed to stretch the limits of creativity under pressure. The challenge? Craft a compelling short story in just seven days using assigned elements: a genre (Thriller), a character (A Caretaker), and a scenario (a canceled flight).

Naturally, my imagination veered towards the dark alleys of what makes fiction thrilling. I immediately envisioned a caretaker (not to be mistaken with a caregiver) with a sinister edge. The character morphed into a sadistic serial killer whose plans were disrupted when he accidentally hit a woman with his truck right before fleeing to a country with no extradition treaty. This quirky, eerie caretaker, set against the backdrop of a defunct TV set in Vancouver, intrigued the judges and set the stage for a larger story to unfold.

From Short Story to Full-Length Novel

The feedback from NYCMidnight highlighted the potential depth of these characters and their darkly twisted connections. Expanding the original setup, the narrative evolved significantly through numerous drafts. Initially focused on childhood and sibling rivalry between identical twins, the storyline grew into a complex web involving dual narratives and a chilling revelation: the caretaker and his victim both harbor deadly secrets.

"Conjoined" hence developed into a story that explores the interconnectedness of individuals tied by fate and blood, all culminating in a title that reflects both the physical and metaphorical joining of lives.

The Writing Process: A Blend of Discipline and Serendipity

Writing "Conjoined" was nothing short of a magical realism experience mixed with a disciplined routine. The setting and characters were sketched out in vivid detail, thanks to days spent brainstorming and allowing the sensory experiences of locations to permeate the narrative. My approach combined rigorous research with a splash of creative liberty to keep the narrative engaging and resonant.

Character names and traits were fluid until the final drafts; 'Ram,' the investigative reporter, and 'Allyson,' the protagonist, underwent various iterations before their names truly fit their personas. Inspiration often struck unpredictably, manifesting through songs, overheard conversations, or even street scenes, all guiding the storytelling process in real-time.

Editing: Ruthlessly Shaping the Narrative

The editing phase was particularly brutal. Chapters were refined, superfluous words cut, and plot elements re-evaluated to ensure a tight, engaging thriller. This phase wasn't just about trimming; it was about intensifying the suspense and polishing the dialogue to deliver a story that readers couldn't put down.

What’s Next?

As "Conjoined" makes its way into the world, my focus shifts to my next project, "No Reservations" – another thriller that explores the chaotic aftermath of a reality TV chef's scandalous trial. The stakes are higher, the plot twists more daunting, and the characters even more complex.

Embark on This Dark Journey

I warmly invite you to dive into the twisted world of "Conjoined." It’s a novel that promises to entertain, chill, and provoke thought, exploring what entertains us as a society and how we perceive ourselves through the veneer of individualism and secrecy.

Get ready to lose yourself in its pages. As we anticipate the twists and turns of life and fiction, I hope "Conjoined" offers you a thrilling escape into the depths of human nature and the eerie calm of unresolved pasts. Join me, and let’s explore the dark together. And stay tuned for "No Reservations," where the mystery deepens, and the thrill intensifies. Happy reading, and thank you for being part of this thrilling journey!

 

K.T. George resides in the heart of Chicago with their family of four and their beloved fluffer, Lincoln. They draw inspiration from the vibrant cityscape that surrounds them and the people who live there. Formerly an esteemed I.T. Executive and cybersecurity expert, their unique ability to seamlessly transition from science to art has cemented their status as a formidable force in the literary realm. Learn more at www.ktgeorge.com.

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