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Once More Through the Fourth Wall by @LakebridgeCycle #FourthWallFriday

Winter is Coming but for now.. Autumn is here

Well at least in Stansbury, VT.

If I had a choice how to end this week it would include a special Fourth-Wall Friday and to have woken up today with my coffee made and the smell of bacon in the air. Since hubby had to go cover someone’s shift last night I am going to be waking up with one thing I want and that is a special Fourth-Wall Friday. Today’s it is going to be incredible. Thank you Tasha, you are an incredible woman, a trusted friend and I am honored to have had you contact me over two years ago.

For those who have been following #FourthWallFriday since the beginning it all started with this crazy wench contacted me wanting me to tour or review her book back in 2012. I had only been reviewing for a couple months. From Arizona to Vermount which introduced the world to Stansbury and the Lakebridge during Spring. For my birthday last year Natasha she visited Stansbury and introduced us to Summer and I got a Birthday Present.. on my birthday. This year? Not only do I get a great #TGIF present but I get a Birthday Present too!

OH for the record, the minotaur is dressed only to make this safe for work! Otherwise he would be as hung as Tasha says he should be! So… shall we? Just…

Once More Through the Fourth Wall


Natasha Troop


            Asterion had long since stopped wondering about his new home, which was all too much like his old home except the nine men no longer came and what had once seemed infinite was small in comparison. When the redeemer came, he had gratefully submitted himself to the man, hoping that his time wandering through his rooms and corridors and courtyards had come to a blissful end. Instead, there was a moment of displacement, the world had shifted, and he found his corridors replaced by forking paths or alleys, rooms by grottos and courtyards by gloomy squares. There was no ceiling but the unfamiliar twilight sky where swirling vortexes flashed from time to time, signifying some new arrival or departure from this place. He longed for the day he could find his way back to his house and resume his work with no complaint.

            He knew he would never escape this city of infinite complexities if he lived as he did before. So he submitted himself to the employ of another who called himself Quiades. In return for sustenance, not meat as Asterion enjoyed in his longed for Knossos, but bits of energy that the being was able to harness – give or take at will depending on its mood. When Quiades wanted something, it would feed him energy encoded with instructions and, more importantly, directions.

            As he watched a vortex feed yet another being to this unending nightmare city, it did not surprise him to feel momentarily sated or to see the golden ball of yarn roll by him and turn the corner.

* * *

            Given her current circumstance, Natasha was strangely unsurprised by the ball of golden yarn that rolled to a stop at her feet. This is not to say she expected it. She expected the darkness of the Lakebridge to swallow her whole and that would be the end of things. But there had been this moment where she made a wish to be anywhere else and that strange power she had to actualize her deepest desire in a time of crisis subconsciously activated and before whatever it was that was trapped in the bridge could consume her, a gate was opened and she leapt through it. And then she fell for…well, for an unknowable period of time. It could have been an eternity or a moment. She was entirely unsure except to say there was nothing dangerous in the act of falling as she suffered no harm in the landing.


            In that moment after landing, having no idea where she might be except to say she stood in some sort of mossy grotto that did not seem big enough to have twenty-three exits, each strangely unique in shape and apparent danger. The kinds of danger were beyond her experience, but she knew for a certain that to walk down any path would lead to something far worse than certain doom. She was also certain that certain doom would find her if she didn’t start walking… or running. She looked down at her black and white splattered Toms and was at least glad she had chosen not to wear sandals.

            minataurThat was when she noticed the ball of yarn unroll itself out of one of the doorways, one that made her feel certain that somewhere beyond the opening was some unknowable outer god trapped for eons and in need of a single sacrificial being to unlock its prison and resume its quest to destroy the sum total of everything. Following the ball of yarn was an honest-to-goodness minotaur. And he was big…and naked…and hung like a bull.

            Natasha started laughing uncontrollably. There didn’t seem to be another option at this moment other than to suffer a complete psychotic break. She hadn’t laughed this long or hard since she was fifteen and visiting Versailles on a school trip. It was a very cold November, très froid, and her small group had a free lunch at a restaurant that would have been nice enough except the heater was not functioning. When the waiter brought their first course, a fairly sad looking salad, her friend, Michelle, remarked,

            “What am I? A rabbit?”

Her comment sent Natasha into a fit of laughter that infected her entire group of students and pissed off their chaperone. Of course, every angry hush from him in combination with the constricting cold made it even harder to stop laughing.

            She laughed at the naked minotaur for what could have been a moment or an age and the whole time, the beast man stood mutely and patiently. There was a moment when she stopped, but he ruined it by speaking.

            “Are you done?”

            And the laughing began again, so hard that she dropped to her knees from her inability to breath. Again, it went on and on, or not very long at all. When she was done, a gentle hand pulled her to her feet.

            “We need to get moving.” His voice rang far more sweetly than it should have, refined and deep in all the right ways.

            “I didn’t think minotaurs could speak.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because bulls can’t.”

            He snorted. “I am no bull.”


            With that, he waited a moment while the ball of golden yarn took its bearing and rolled itself through the doorway that promised some manner of infectious and crippling decay for any who ventured through. He gestured for her to follow.

            “Is there a reason I should trust you and that self-possessed string?” She hadn’t been of a mind to question much until now, but this seemed as good a time as any to start.

            He shrugged. “Not really. But given where we are, what else were you planning on doing? At least the string knows where it is going. I cannot say the same for many others in this place. Most wander aimlessly until they either learn how to devour or are devoured. Very few find their way to something like safety. In my experience, when a ball of yarn leads you through a maze, it is best to follow it. Even if it is leading you towards danger, it is leading you somewhere with a purpose.

            She didn’t know if this made any sense or not, but neither did the other option, which was to pick a door and make turns with no reason but to walk and turn. So she followed the ball, which had been patiently waiting for her to walk to resume its duty. The minotaur fell into an easy gait behind her and his presence gave her a strange sense of security.

            The ball rolled down paths and corridors, up stairs and over bridges and they went as they were meant to go. Natasha looked over her shoulder and wondered that the end of the string seemed to vanish a few yards behind them.

            “The ball never gets any smaller.”

            “It is enchanted.

            She nodded and continued to follow. “Of course it is.”

            The two of them marched through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered and seemed to be much closer and yet no nearer to any destination, but there was a moment of uncertainty. The yarn hesitated and they stopped. Natasha looked around at the mossy grotto with twenty-three dangerous paths spoking away from it and turned angrily to the minotaur.

            “Do not blame me,” he said, gesturing at the golden ball.

            She stared daggers…no, very sharp scissors at the yarn, which seemed to cower slightly from her glare. She laughed at the thought of sentient string.

            “It is not nice to threaten a harmless messenger.” Those words did not come from the honey voiced minotaur. The voice was upper class British with a clear note of Spanish accenting and came from the bright light in the center of the grotto.

            How did I miss that?

Labyrinth            “You did not miss anything. You just needed a visual element to speak towards and thus wrote me as such. Or perhaps I needed you to see me and created this aspect of myself to appear to you. It is often difficult to tell where one being’s reality is an expression of self or a reflection of another’s notion of what should be.”

            Natasha thought on that a moment and it made a great deal of sense and was entirely bollocks. She felt no need to decide which. She gestured behind her towards her travelling companion.

            “So what’s up with the minotaur?”

            “What kind of labyrinth would this be without one?

            “Good point. The better question is what am I doing here?”

            The light shrugged. At least it appeared to shrug. She just kind of knew it was shrugging. “You wrote yourself here, of course. At the same time, the story required you to be here.”

            She smiled. She knew this one.

            “So if my story requires me to be somewhere else, I will be there if I write myself there, yes?”


            “And what of you?”

            The light chuckled. “I exist in my reality as well as yours. Our intersections are both substantive and meaningless.”

            Natasha reached down and picked up the ball of yarn. “May I keep this?”

            But the light was gone, as was the minotaur and the grotto. She found herself standing next to her car across from the store with the one-armed clerk. She looked down the path towards the Lakebridge and decided not to write herself down to it yet again. It was still Kriss’s birthday and, aside from the case of birch beer, she thought the golden string would make a fine present for her friend.


Raising my Bacontini and toasting in the direction of Los Angeles!  Thank you Natasha! Hey everyone, life goes on, right? We have had a rough week. With Ferguson, Robin Williams and drama on the internet highway! What can I say! I am off to have a happy birthday weekend, I hope all of you have a grand weekend too! If you are interested in Lakebridge (and man you want to be my friend), the book covers are linked below! I adore this horror series! I hope you do too!


About Natasha Troop

Once More Through the Fourth Wall by @LakebridgeCycle #FourthWallFriday

Natasha grew up in Southern California and received her Bachelor’s degree from UCLA in Comparative Literature. She also holds a Masters’ Degrees in both Secondary Education and Creative Writing. Natasha currently lives in the Los Angeles area with her spouse, son, daughter and menagerie of pets. Aside from writing novels (she has published the first three in her Lakebridge cycle and expects the fourth to be available by the Winter of 2016), she spends her days attempting to teaching high school students to love theatre and at least admit to liking one book before they graduate.

Natasha blogs about her writing occasionally at Notes From Stansbury, VT

Once More Through the Fourth Wall by @LakebridgeCycle #FourthWallFridayLakebridge: Autumn
Series: The Lakebridge Cycle - Book 3
by Natasha Troop
Pages: 183
Published by Red Frog Publishing
on March 14, 2014
Genres: Fantasy, Horror, Literary Fiction
Source & Buy Links: Masquerade Tours
Amazon • Barnes & Noble • • Goodreads •

The town of Stansbury, Vermont has survived over four hundred years of tragic events. The town survived because the otherworldly beings and powerful humans that have always controlled the lives of the people willed them to forget each terrible event.

As the bloody conflict between those forces has been raging, the people have stopped forgetting. Fear and grief have replaced peaceful ignorance and the powers that be no longer care.

In Lakebridge: Autumn, Stansbury will fall.

    Product DetailsProduct DetailsProduct Details

So what is Fourth-Wall Friday?

Ever wonder what happens if you were to break into your world build and sit down and have a beer with your main characters? I think I would love to have tea with Jane Eyre, or discuss the best way to take care of vampires with Jane Yellowstone…maybe having Susie Shotgun take me out for some Angels Tears…

Interested in being part of Cabin Goddesses Fourth-Wall Friday? I hope everyone (authors and readers alike) takes time peruse the archives and find out just what other authors have done and enjoy a lot of amazing world builds! Or check out the PINTEREST board with every Fourth-Wall Friday pinned!

FWF-300-BUTTAllow yourself as an author to open up a new avenue of sharing your AUTHOR PERSONA & WORLD BUILD in a unique and creative fashion.. Just take a chance, write fluidly and from within that “place” you hangout at with your muse. Or perhaps walk in the door, tuck into a corner & watch your characters get into trouble before you take a chance and talk to them…




  1. Thank you for taking the time and effort to share with us today. This is a new read for me and I am certainly intrigued 🙂

    • Denise Natasha rocks! I love these Fourth-Wall Fridays. Oh her first book is free, you should check it out!

  2. This was all too much fun. I think this should be my yearly Friday, reserved solely for me.

  3. I do so love Natasha. That was brilliant. Happy Birthday bacon butt <3

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