Lights dim to a sickly pall. Numbing silence, cut by troubled breathing lies over all like a thick white blanket. Smells of waste and sharp chemicals while apparitions with pain-smeared faces shuffle through the halls. Televisions splatter dark walls with brilliant colors no one cares no one is watching. Amid muffled, drained voices somewhere outside I roll over and think about how I can ask to leave again tomorrow.
Walt Hutton currently lives in Tucson, Arizona and like most writers has at least three different jobs. He climbs, writes, and travels to other countries in his spare time. His work has been published in Appalachia, International Living, and a couple of magazines that can’t be found any more.