Jaime Allison Parker

“It did not fear any god the people constructed from marble and stone. It thrived on demoralizing the frightened prayers of the weak that clung to sanctuary walls. Its intoxication found in the terror, the superstition, and worship that fed its merciless existence. The night sky provided the nocturnal shelter where it walked freely.

The festivals of the changing seasons, reminding the mere mortals their time upon its fields were short. Brief in comparison to the thousands of years that it casually passed. It ruled the Earth, long before the human animals learned to conquer shelter and formulate abstract thoughts. In the cave paintings of the most primitive, they feared to paint its imagery on stone.”
― Jaime Allison Parker, Storms In the Distant North

“The people once knew it by many titles. They saw it when the malformed crawled out of their mother’s wombs. When the ravens flew into the windows. When the cows could not produce milk and when the diseases spread. Its face had always been there. During the pestilence of the Black Plague, and its presence felt in the beds of the sweating sickness. Among the frightened royalty of the species, it appeared in their bed covers as they gasped their final moments covered in pustules and sores.”
― Jaime Allison Parker, Storms In the Distant North

“It was odd, how everyone spoke of it, as though it were one single event. The time when the county had turned upside down and all rules of logic were discarded out of the windows of reason. It had all began when Tony Anderson was taken to the hospital for drunkenly shooting up his house. That one single night, seemed to unleash something rather otherworldly on the community. It was then that the autumn harvests began to mysteriously die and wither. It was then that hushed rumors began about deformed cattle, milk curdled and sour eggs were yielded from the chickens. When people began speaking of shadows lurking in their hallways, and voices outside of their windows at night.”
― Jaime Allison Parker, River at the World's Dawn

“We are fortunate men then,” Frank smiled. “Most people, even the ones who are lucky enough to like what they do, find themselves feeling hopelessly trapped in horror. Horror at the fact they are going to have to do the same things, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. They long for vacations and better money to get them out of the useless wheel. The wheel that so many will grind away at until their deaths. Do you think that men like you and I can just lose ourselves with a certain sense of delusion into pretending that we like what we do?”
― Jaime Allison Parker, The Delta Highway