Finding Tom Read Online Free PDF Page A

pulled out a small typewritten letter. I unfolded the creased white paper and began to read.
    Dear Tom,
    Thank you for your entry into this year’s all-state writing contest. I am writing to inform you that your piece was not chosen as one of our finalists, but we are grateful for your participation and encourage you to continue writing. This year’s winners will be displayed in the Young American Writer’s Anthology that will be available for purchase.
    Sincerely,
    Richard Houghner
    I crumpled up the paper and threw it in the garbage can. Of course my piece was not chosen. There is no way you could have published my writing along with all the other sentimental vomit you must have received , I thought to myself, the sort of writing old people read so they can drift back to the ‘good old days’ and remember the world adorned with perfection . A book of poems such as mine would never sell, and at the end of the day, that is what is most important. This whole contest was a scam to sell books. Ridiculous.
    A week later, I came home and found another letter sitting on the table waiting for me. It was in a small envelope, and the return address was marked “Dr. James Emory.” I could feel the thickness of the paper and the rich ink penmanship was written in an eclectic scrolling hand.
    Dear Tom,
    I realize that as you are reading this letter you probably have no idea who I am, and I will not take offense at that. My name is James Emory. I am an author and, prior to my retirement, was the English chair at Locklear University. I was one of the judges for this year’s Young American Writers contest and happened across your piece in the midst of my readings. While your writing did not win, as you well know, I personally found your prose to be the most moving of all the entries I read. It is very unusual for one as young as yourself to write in the manner that you do. My wife and I would very much like for you to come and visit us at our home to discuss your writing. I feel that you have great talent, and it would bring me pleasure to help you along in your writing career. I have many connections that could be of use to you as you consider colleges and so forth, but we can discuss such things in more detail when you arrive. My telephone number is 318-555-7153. I am usually home in the evenings and look forward to receiving a call from you.
    Sincerely,
    Dr. James Emory
    I re-read the letter to be sure I had understood its contents correctly and then just stood there stupefied for a minute. This could be my ticket out of this dungeon! I hated this town; everything about this place annoyed me; most of all, I loathed this house. It was a constant reminder of my mother. I had imagined that the pain would just sort of go away and that I would start to forget, but I was cursed with the gift of memory, cursed by the ever-present shadow of my mother. And trapped in that shadow, there was no beauty. I was tired of living in this darkness when most of my life I’d wandered with childlike wonder in the glorious world around me. But I could not shake the shadow and its overpowering effect on me.
    My father would barely notice my absence. I think my presence was a daily reminder of his loss, and thus my leaving could only be a good thing. For the first time since mother’s death, I felt a ray of hope. A tiny candle was lit within my soul, and I promised myself I would call Dr. Emory that very night.
    After dinner and a quick smoke, with the house silent save for a few creaking boards here and there, I found myself sitting in the living room. With a deep breath, I picked up our rarely used telephone and dialed Dr. Emory.
    The phone rang once … twice … three times, and I felt myself begin to grow nervous. When it rang the fourth time … I was about to hang up when a woman’s faint voice tumbled out of the earpiece.
    “Dr. Emory’s residence. How can I help you?”
    “Hello,” I stammered, fighting back the nerves that threatened to