{"id":97,"date":"2008-04-19T09:17:01","date_gmt":"2008-04-19T09:17:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/?p=97"},"modified":"2008-04-19T09:17:01","modified_gmt":"2008-04-19T09:17:01","slug":"the-weeping-maw-9-of-11","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/?p=97","title":{"rendered":"The Weeping Maw (9 of 11)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&#8216;My?&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>&#8216;I&#8217;m supposed to be the strong one here,&#8217; Tom said with a constipated smile. &#8216;It&#8217;s your life that was dashed against the rocks, not mine. Look at me. Perfect health. With a beautiful eye for terrible cardigans.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>Colin pulled a bit closer to Tom. &#8216;Rrrreally, &#8216;sokay. I wuh-wuh-wanna help. Paaayback. You jus&#8217; name.&#8217; He took a deep breath. &#8216;Whasss problem?&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>&#8216;Did you watch the news recently? Oh no, of course you didn&#8217;t. Silly me. You wouldn&#8217;t have known. There was this American tourist you see&#8230;&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>Colin knew immediately. &#8216;Missshell Norf.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>&#8216;Yes,&#8217; Tom said, turning to face Colin, puzzled.<\/p>\n<p>&#8216;I ssssaw pick-pick-ture in Metro. I&#8230; rrrremembered. You talk&#8230; long time.&#8217; The effort to get these words out was grinding him down. Exhaustion was creeping up on him. He wanted to go back to the multi-coloured jigsaw; it was more restful than this.<\/p>\n<p>Tom smiled. &#8216;Actually she did most of the talking. She preferred to be called Mizzy. She was a strange girl. Happy and blessed with opportunity, but unable to deal with success. I&#8217;m glad you remember. I saw you skulking about at the back.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>Colin felt aggrieved. &#8216;Not sssspying. No, no. My firssst week an&#8217; an&#8217; wun&#8217;ned to ssssee-&#8216;<\/p>\n<p>Tom grabbed Colin around elbows, almost restraining him. &#8216;Colin, Colin, don&#8217;t get so agitated. I&#8217;m not trying to attack you. I&#8217;m your friend. Always remember that. Calm down.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>Colin nodded but shook out of Tom&#8217;s grip; touching was uninvited and unwelcome. &#8216;Whassit? Wha&#8217; you&#8230; wan? Fr-fr-frrrrom me?&#8217; His mouth was the wrong shape for every syllable and consonant, mutating them into grunts and slurrs. He wanted Tom to get to the bollocking point.<\/p>\n<p>&#8216;I went to see the police. They&#8230; they don&#8217;t have a clue. She died in a bad way. They did not tell me the truth. She deserved better. She had come unstuck in her own life, drowned by events of &#8211; of her own making. She had such pretty eyes that looked so sad. She was-&#8216;<\/p>\n<p>&#8216;Tom!&#8217; The point, get to the bloody point.<\/p>\n<p>The reverend couldn&#8217;t quite look into Colin&#8217;s eyes as he made his request, his gaze fixated on Colin&#8217;s neck instead: &#8216;The police won&#8217;t do it. So I want you to. I want you to find out who did it. She deserves that.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>Colin saw the deep honesty in the young reverend&#8217;s eyes and was compelled. Even though what Tom was asking was huge, Colin was overwhelmed with a sense of duty. He waved his arms towards his chest, imploring the reverend for information. &#8216;Al-rrright. Tell. Tell meeee. All.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>Tom began to tell Mizzy&#8217;s story. When Tom was finished, dawn was piercing the skin of the horizon.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&#8216;My?&#8217; &#8216;I&#8217;m supposed to be the strong one here,&#8217; Tom said with a constipated smile. &#8216;It&#8217;s your life that was dashed against the rocks, not mine. Look at me. Perfect health. With a beautiful eye for terrible cardigans.&#8217; Colin pulled a bit closer to Tom. &#8216;Rrrreally, &#8216;sokay. I wuh-wuh-wanna help. Paaayback. You jus&#8217; name.&#8217; He [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=97"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=97"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=97"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hammerport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=97"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}