Roman's long black hair swung like a sick pendulum. Through bleary eyes the damp tiles of the dungeon flickered orange when they passed wall-hung torches. The pink peanut beast's shoulder was soft to lie on. It was more comfortable than the torture table he was strapped to before. The only thing stopping him from relaxing was the sight of his arm, or what was left of it. Only bone was left. Somehow, the bleeding had stopped and the pain had become mere, but complete, exhaustion.

The dark orange maze took innumerable right angles, u-turns and spiral staircases up and down, until anomalies patched the stone cold walls. A tuft of grass poked through the rock there, a bundle of lollipops here. The sound of the peanut's footsteps randomly changed from the endless soft step on stones, to crunching on glass shards, scuffing gravel, paddling through water and back to stone. The colours of the flickering torches altered too, making Roman feel dizzy when purple and green light wobbled the shadows. Instead of the claustrophobic silence that was so crushingly large, sounds from other realms of experience echoed from far down the corridor: the shwifting of ocean waves, a theatre audience's laughter and a night owl calling lonely. Roman groaned and mustered strength to look at the hole-eyed clay faces that held his gaze along the corridor. The pink peanut's hyper laugh bubbled quietly at the sound of Roman's groan.

Pink and emerald gemstones outcropping the walls grew more regular and a plush red carpet trailed beneath Roman. The torchlight became increasingly bright lamplight. Then Roman was plonked down into a velvet red chair. The peanut beast sat in a similar one next to him and burst into hysterical vibrating giggles when the actors on stage all fell over at the same time.

In his delirious head state, Roman could see that he was in a large theatre with a full crowd. He sat in one of the booths high above most of the tail-coated audience that waved and jeered at the tomfoolery on stage. It seemed as though one bourgeoisie fellow was making a poor courting attempt with a snooty blonde whose hair billowed as much as her dress. The audience smathered into uncontrollable laughter when she turned his back to him and crossed her arms. So did the peanut monster.

Tears welled up in Roman's eyes. What was happening? Where was he? Why was his arm pure bone and no more?

He stood up, grabbed the brass-edged balcony and screamed. The vibration from his lungs instantly pinged off every well-angled corner of the sound-boosting theatre until all were silent. The nervous, tail-coated man on stage stood up straight and spoke in polarized voice of pure confidence.

"He has arrived. Open the rag."

"Open the..." Roman staggered his words and dizziness spiraled down his blood like a helterskelter. Black and white fuzz dripped down his vision and his grip on the smooth brass loosened along with every other muscle in his body. Like a watery rag, he slipped over the balcony.