Three Excerpts From Lark Jameson’s Stories

I’m helping promote one of my author client’s project, a collection of 18 e-stories available individually or in a bundle on Amazon. Just got to Amazon books and search for her name. Below are three short excerpts from her stories. Lark often sets her tales in the great outdoors of the Pacific Northwest and manages to insert some truly hilarious and pointed cultural commentary. Check it out and support a writer making a go of it for the first time.

Easter Sunday (excerpt)

Amy only went to church this one time a year, strictly as a favor to her evangelical mother. And it wasn’t even for the service and the fire and brimstone from the preacher man pounding the pulpit in his bad suit with a tortured Jesus in agony crucified up on the wall behind him.

No, it was for the potluck afterward, held in the basement. Amy did at least that for her mother. Years ago, she had quit the service but kept attending the potluck for an hour and then hit some bars with her friends and regale them with absurd stories from the event.

Oh Jesus the potlucks! The shredded carrots in green jello, the green bean casserole, the glazed ham, the scalloped potatoes, the fried chicken, the gravy, gravy, gravy. The men in their cheap wrinkled suits. Their doting wives and girlfriends in sackcloth. The lite Christian rock lilting through the air. Was there anything less sexy in the world than a Christian potluck?

The Influencer (excerpt)

Cheyenne crouched low in a ripe wheat field holding a black combat knife with an eight-inch serrated blade in her right hand. She was poised to slash, strike and gut. She’d been practicing for days in her Portland apartment. Now was the time! Die terrorist motherfucker!

She was somewhere in the plateau country of Central Oregon on a fiery Friday afternoon in August. Sweat poured off her lean brown body, darkening her camouflage-colored panties and bra. She wore a camouflage headband and sweatbands, and streaks of eye black on her cheeks and forehead. A black army utility belt around her waist held a leather sheath. She also wore black combat boots.

Yeah it was hotter than a sinner in hell, Luckily, a breeze blew across the field every now and then, rippling the wheat and giving the scene an honest-to-goodness Rambo-meets-Amber-Waves-of-Grain vibe.

Stream Survey (an excerpt)

What an afternoon in late August! Earlier that morning in Lark’s job as stream surveyor, she’d seen water dippers galore, a fox watch her from the bank, and ospreys duke it out in mid air to see who kept the eel. She loved being out in nature, in the creeks and rivers, gliding through and with the current, listening, sensing, working, getting worked up. It was an ancient aphrodisiac a million times more powerful than anything found on Porn Hub.