By Lidia Adaman-Tremblay
Yes, hell found me the day I chanced to see you. Do you remember that day? I remember it like it happened yesterday. The day is forever etched in my mind in brilliant colours, as though some mad artist simply upturned his buckets and bottles and tubes of paint in careful and orderly chaos, just reckless enough to smudge the edges of reality.
The world had turned a shimmering green and gold on that summer day, golden sun dappling and splashing of the leaves, green of infinite shades. It was early morning, just barely passed dawn; the air was fresh and clear. Above our heads the sky was blue in crystalline splendour.
Hell found me that day. I awoke that early morning to find you nestling beside me in my tent, where I thought I was alone. I looked into your face and found myself floating in the infinity of your blue eyes, blue that was the same colour as the sky. I should have been afraid, I should have given voice to the terror of this violation, but I could not, for you gently touched my face, and my mind swirled in a mist of burgundy wine.
Do you remember that day, my love? Do you remember how you asked me for my trust? Do you remember what you promised me, in words gilded with silver streaks flickering through the deep throb of scarlet that suffused me at hearing those words?
“Trust me, and I will change your life forever.”
Did I really hear them, being so lost in the colours you washed over me? I felt your touch, and all that existed was the blinding claret cloud enveloping my entire being. At the time, I did not know what that signified. When I learned, finally learned what it meant, hell indeed found me.
At that moment, once I was able to breathe again, I only knew that in spite of my better judgement, I did trust you.
Colours of the early morning changed with the heat as we finally emerged from that tent. Now, in addition to all I saw from the tent mesh, the trees, the leaves, the brown earth, the fields and woods were populated by lords and ladies, peasants and warriors. Gowns swirled, cloaks fluttered, armour sparkled in the sunshine that turned from deep yellow to white gold. Purple, crimson, forest green, light absorbing black velvet, and light reflecting white paraded before me, but I only saw them as though they were flitting butterflies at the periphery of my vision, because I was still lost in that amazing blue of your eyes.
I remember the sapphire, as you looked at me, but I recall very little else. Were you tall or short? What colour was your hair (how strange that the colour of your hair should escape me!)? Tall, yes, I remembered that later, because you bent over me in a protective manner. You were not all that thin; I can now laugh at that resurrected memory, for you were able to engulf me in your warmth that rivaled the sun.
Finally I got dressed (did you leave to afford me this privacy?), carefully dressing in a low-cut white chemise, a leaf-green skirt, and a black bodice that laced up tight, pushing my breasts above the chemise ruffle. Ah yes, I made sure I was adequately displayed. For you, my lord, only for you. You were attired in garments the colour of polished agate, belted with a tooled leather strap, simple and appropriate, for you would be getting into armour soon. I did not know how I would survive without your blue eyes to drown in.
The day baked under the white-hot sun, bleaching the hues to faded, tired and wilting shades. The crowd of gentles was also washed out, but you, ah, you stood out in the blue doublet and surcote that perfectly matched your eyes and aura. You swung that sword, you killed and were killed. My heart went through the agonies as though you were injured in truth. Tournament was there only to showcase you and your prowess.
That morning, I gladly walked into hell. I gave you my trust, and you did indeed change my life. For that instant, I would have traded my entire life to experience the change you brought me.
Later that night, after the sun had set, new colours began to emerge –intense oranges and reds of the campfires. You passed me a drink that burned my throat and instantly lifted me outside of myself, and I watched you adjust my black cloak, the black that made me melt into the blackness on the edge of the fire. Your fingers lingered at the hollow of my throat, and then trailed down, down to the valley between my breasts. All I saw then was the jewel tones of your eyes drawing me in, and I willingly walked deeper into.
I remember that day as though it’s a painting done in gems – emerald, topaz, and ruby, lapis lazuli, garnet and amethyst, diamond, turquoise, and moonstone, amber, jet and hematite. But mostly I remember the sapphire of your eyes, that blue that rivaled the blue of the sky and had me drown in your lies, the silver of your words that wrapped me in your treachery, the burgundy that bound me in your control, the scarlet of your touch upon my skin that left the trail of scarlet flame and awoke the deepest bloom of my womanhood.
I trusted you, and you did indeed change my life with deception and guile. You did change my life, I cannot deny that. Perhaps I should have also asked in what way you would change it, but I only realized that in hindsight.
This was hell, a place of tormenting pleasures, delicious falsehoods, and impaling ecstasies. Hell is not a place of fire and brimstone, but a cave within a sapphire gems, icy enough to fog the breath and harden the nipples to piercing points, but strangely hot enough to flame the furnace of the womb.
Such was the day, ablaze with jewel tones, when hell found me…