Ameliorate - make (something bad or unsatisfactory) better.
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The factors that brought him here were numerous. He didn't have the mental capacities left in him to say what they were anymore.
Had he made a wrong turn in life, or perhaps it was fate that had locked him away in a forgotten chamber deep beneath the earth?
He found himself to be a rational man and not one to reach out to unconfirmed deities, but the mildew stained wall were having their way on his mind. He was whispering incoherently. It was set on by dehydration, and a grimmer feeling of acceptance that the chains that kept him upright were the last tangible thing tethering him to the land of the living.
How many days had it been? Or had he slipped into weeks? When had the stairs stop echoing the distant sound of footsteps that would bring him water and scraps?
He shifted his bandage swatched feet. The closest thing he knew to shoes took purchase against the cracked raw floor. He could feel the grooves he had worn into the stone work. He existed, if only because he had left something, anything, to show he had been here. He knew eventually he would succumb to the mortality of man and fade from this pitiful existence far beyond the suns warm reach.
A ragged swallow echoed in the halls of his mind before sputtering out into the darkness. It swam with the shadows, humming softly like an old friend offering comfort. He had become accustomed to such thing, the fantasies of his mind. When imprisoned in total isolation devoid of noise or life, you became friends with the imaginary figures of the corners of your mind. Each sound he rasped was the voice of another. He supposed his failing health was a bit of a respite in this. Maybe even a kind of comfort.
He was not alone here. He had many friends to keep him company as he ticked away fictitious minutes. He tapped his foot on the stone. It was a dull whap of muffled noise. He could see it though. It came in the form of an old hound by his feet flapping a droopy tail back and forth in a lethargic wag. Too tired to bark or come closer to be given affection, the mut of a dog choose the mere proximity as good enough.
Oh how he yearned to avoid such fallacies as these, but how could he deny his fading life a bit of comfort? He had hoped that maybe his mind would be his only saving grace, that he would leave with a hint of dignity by being surefooted in his wits. That was not to be so, but at this moment, he couldn't find it within him to care.
He added to the melody of his tapping foot by rocking the chains that tethered him to the wall. If he tilted his head just so, and let a bit more of his sanity ooze out of him, they almost sounded like wind chimes. And so it was! He could see them, dangling calmly in a corner. It bore no support or any kind of reason to be hung, but there they were, clear as the rising sun. They swayed in a dreamed-up wind. Oh how delightful!
He had to add more and bring scenery into his world. Next to come was his back rubbing against the wall. The tattered shirt clung to nothing but skin and bones, but it would suffice. It scratched along the beveled surface. No, it was not his shirt, it was the trees. The leaves fluttering and tapping against one another in a sweet melody that reminded him of home.
The chimes were surrounded by a wreath of leaves. They swayed one way, then the next, completely at ease upon their perch. The old hound by his side appeared pleased as if she could see it too. This was simply delightful! Why had he not thought of this before? Why had he not realized he possessed the ability to venture outside the imposing walls to his home once more with the wonders of sound?
Finally, like a crescendo to a majestic symphony, his breathing filled the room. In a few breaths, he realized it no longer belonged to him, but from the person to his left.
Delicate hair rolled down him in shimmering gold strands, pooling at his chest. Thin red lines were pinched into an almost imperceivable smile. They parted ever so slightly to let the air come out in gentle even breaths. She was at ease, resting agaisnt him as if she were about to slip into a gentle sleep.
He leaned his head to one side, placing it upon hers. He had missed his wife more than words could bear. Now here she was, as mesmorizing as the day they married. Her breath was growing faint. He nuzzled her hair against the stubble of his chin. She seemed tired and needed to rest, and he supposed he ought to as well.
He let the soft smell of his lilac scented hair overtake his sense of smell. Softer still his breath became, it nothing more than a stuttered whisper. He felt overwhelmingly tired and felt his eyes start to droop. He did not want to rest just yet, but he could not find the energy to avoid it. He supposed it was time to get some sleep. He would see her when they both woke later. He would take her hand in his and they would go on a pleasant walk along the fields, the old hound of a dog fast as their heals despite her age. They would laugh at fickle things and talk about nothing and everything.
He smiled, allowing himself to begin to drift off. He supposed this wasn't too bad after all.
Then he breathed no more.
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I literally just threw this out there. Hope it's not too bad.
