Jazz, Monster Collector in: A Friendly Place of Dying (season 1, episode 5)

By RyFT Brand

Jazz, Season One, Episode Five

Jazz just barely managed her way back to Nittsburg all in one piece, but DJ wasn’t as lucky. As sooner as they crossed the border, Jazz was been taken into custody by the enforcer corps. On her way to the magistrate with the Not Now Stone kicking up a serious fuss, she has only minutes to get to her office and scrub the stone in her old pickle jar of solution. But the enforcer corps, the magistrate, and practically everyone else doesn’t like Jazz a bit, and would love to see her do a stint in the mallow mines.

Her only consolidation is that if she doesn’t get the stone scrubbed, she’ll suffer a terrible and painful death long before she can be sentenced.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tricorner Publishing
• Release date: Dec 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452415222

RyFT Brand

RyFT Brand is one of the pen names of writer Robert F Thompson. He lives, writes, wonders, and wanders from Bucks County, Pennsylvania. His first novel, A Book of Beginnings was published in 2001. he's just so weird.

Book preview

Jazz, Monster Collector in:

A Friendly Place of Dying

season one, episode five

RyFT

Tricorner Publishing’s Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011

Cover Painting by

Lisa Marie Raezer

Illustrations by

T.A. Cuce’

This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to

persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

JAZZ, Monster Collector

Season One: Earth’s Lament

RyFT

Episode-5: A Friendly Place of Dying

Beaten, battered, bruised, burned and bound, not to mention exhausted and starving, I slumped against the clear, dome-shaped canopy, my body shaking with the vibrations of the cop’s mini-slope. I was headed to face the magistrate, again, and I was pretty certain she’d throw the book at me, at least she would if she had arms; sentient gas clouds aren’t really equipped for throwing, though they are really good at having raging temper tantrums, take my word for it.

Folks of all sorts called me Jazz, and that was as good a name as any. According to my listing in the com-guide, I was a deferred species bond collector, but what I really did was hunt monsters, I hunted them and I killed them whenever I could.