Quadrivial Quandary:  Logophiles, Rejoice!  Each day we give you four unusual words.  Can you fit them all in one illustrative sentence?

Attempts to resolve the Quandary:


When he opened his eyes, he thought he was dreaming, the light was suffused and he could not identify a source, for around the edges of the light there was a gradual fading towards grey and then black; he knew that he was not lying on a bed, at least, not in this dream, if it was a dream, for the surface on which he lay spreadeagled was uneven, rocky, scabrous, it felt as if stones were sticking into his back, but when he tried to move, he found that he was restrained in some way, as if bindings ran across his chest, legs, arms and were secured somewhere; even his head was fixed so that he could not move it, the only things that he could move were his fingers, slightly, and his eyes, everything else was pinioned and he wanted to protest, to cry out, which is when he realised that his mouth was gagged and he could not make more than a low moan, but he doubted if anyone could hear it; he strained to listen, to hear, beyond the silence, and very faintly, somewhere in the distance, he could hear the trickle of water, perhaps a stream; why on earth would he dream of a stream, it made no sense to him and indeed why would he dream that he was bound and gagged, immobilized, in some kind of dark cell with just a faint light gleaming; he decided that, logically, he must be outside when the surface on which he lay, no, was pinned, was so rough, but also dry, don't forget that, and yet, near a stream or other source of running water, even faintly, and he wondered why he was gagged, unless there were other people near enough to hear if he shouted or cried out, but then, he wasn't blindfolded, which either meant that there was nothing or no-one to see – or that it didn't matter if he saw, because he wouldn't live to tell anyone about it like an abandoned waif; which was when he heard the voice, but whether it was from outside, or inside his head, he couldn't tell: "In the begynnynge God created heaven and erth; the erth was voyde and emptie and darcknesse was vpon the depe and the spirite of God moved vpon the water; then God sayd: let there be lyghte and there was lyghte; and God sawe the lyghte that it was good: and devyded the lyghte from the darcknesse; and called the lyghte daye and the darcknesse nyghte: and so of the evenynge and mornynge was made the fyrst daye," which was when the light faded, slowly and he was in darkness, and it seemed as if he was spinning, still pinned, but now the rock or whatever he was tied or strapped to. was like a drum and he felt himself seeming to hang at the top of the spin and then move down again to where he had been; and he had no idea of how long each revolution took but he supposed himself to be hallucinating, and the voice continued to confabulate: "and God sayd: let there be a fyrmament betwene the waters and let it devyde the waters asonder; then God made the fyrmament and parted the waters which were vnder the fyrmament from the waters that were above the fyrmament: and it was so; and God called the fyrmament heaven and so of the evenynge and morninge was made the seconde daye," and he wondered how many days and nights had he been here, for he had no way of recording time, other than by counting his breaths, which, because of the tight bindings, were shallow, or his heartbeats, but either way, once he had counted over fifty, he began to lose track, to forget the last number, confuse himself; he thought that it must be dehydration, his skin was damp, at least some of his senses were working, but that gag which prevented speech also inhibited his breathing, his nose felt sore, perhaps it was broken, but the pain in his chest was the worse, and he wondered, broken ribs? heart attack? anything was possible; and his nose began to close, as mucous and possibly blood bubbled when he breathed, with no way of clearing it; his breathing became more ragged, more laboured, more painful and he doubted he could ever survive this and it wasn't even torture, active torture, that he could put up with because he would have been able to focus upon the torturer, but this, bound and gagged and in what was now total darkness, so that he couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or closed, and not and indication of how much longer it would continue; and he wondered why his voice, yes it was his, regardless whether or not it was heard externally or created internally, it was the only thing he had, the only thing to provide some sort of company, even if it was Tyndale's fucking Bible! why was it Tyndale's and not anyone else? a reminder that who he was was known, that the past was catching up with him, that it was he who had assumed the identity of Henry Phillips, befriended and then betrayed Tyndale and received his thirty pieces of silver for the work; no, no-one knew, no-one could ever know, he had made sure of that; but why, then is the voice reading the opening lines of Genesis from Tyndale's English Bible? it didn't make any sense, but nor did his being here, bound and gagged, none of it made any sense, in fact, you couldn't make it it! if he told anyone they would laugh him out of the Tavern, so why was he here, now, listening to that voice reading that Book?


(by MissTeriWoman)
The Quandary for Friday, August 18, 2017 consisted of: Challenge: use all four words together in one illustrative sentence.

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