A Short Story : A Story?

Tonight I attended a banquet in honor of our new king, Macbeth. The room was warmly lit, food lined the table, and there was a feeling of triumph. After I had taken my seat near the head of the table, I observed the King having a conversation with a common looking man by the side of the room. When he turned, I noticed the man had what appeared to be a small amount of blood on his face, which was rather troubling to me at the time. However, I dismissed the thoughts and returned to my drink, contemplating the fact that Banquo was not at the banquet. It is unlike him to miss an event like this, but his absence was perhaps due forgetfulness and nothing more. I was ready to enjoy my drink when the strangest incident of the night took place. Macbeth

Macbeth set off to the foyer of the castle to find his wife. She dressed in a fancy outfit for the funeral. Soon the two would be off to Banquo's celebration of life. "I am sorry for my behavior earlier" Macbeth spoke. Lady Macbeth simply nodded, " People may suspect you of the crime but I trust that it was not you". The two departed from the castle and gathered into the carriage. Prepared for the event that awaited them.

The dark oak wood walls gave the room a bare feeling. Candles framed the room, yet it did little to brighten the negativity that darkened the room. Macbeth paced back and forth frantically running his hands through his disheveled hair as his beloved conversed. The guilt seemed to grow stronger by the hour. Macbeth couldn't stomach what he had done. It had been moments after Banquo's death had been realized by the people when reality had finally dawned on him: The Thane of Lochaber has fallen, but what made it worse was it was his own doing.

“I swear they said more, something like Macbeth is a murderer raise the alarm!” Macbeth muttered, “Perhaps it was merely a hallucination...”

Duncan’s cold glassy eyes stare back at me, they reflect a faded disbelief and trap my thoughts in a stupor. I wonder, am I gazing back into visions of the past? Was this a fragment of the shocked expression Duncan had worn as my husband slid cold steel unto his skin. My doubts brew in my mind like fermenting ale; it swells at the sight of Duncan’s cold lifeless body before me. His visage was one too much alike my father; this still face, despite stricken and pale, resembles him so. Oh, how that notion haunts me, as does the sight of all this blood upon the sheets. Damn this ill feeling in my belly! This immoral feeling that strips me of my good health and peace of mind. I can feel the blood drain away from my face, mirroring Duncan’s pallid complexion, though he is pale because his life stains our sheets crimson. Be still my qualms. In the entirety of things, I know this normally heinous act was just, our actions were not wrong… I must remind myself that those witches foretold Macbeth’s ascension to the throne, it was fated. We are not wrong for hastening what was already meant to be.

My heart is an aching vessel of pure sorrow. This cold, dark morn, is a dark one indeed. My poor Lady Macbeth, is gone forever, consumed by her insanity in her final days. To hell or to heaven? I cannot tell. Twenty-three years tomorrow, I would have been working for her as her gentlewoman. And now, what am I to do? I cannot continue working in this horrid castle ruled by a despicable man; this castle where my Lady took her own life. What was she thinking, in her last moments, standing here by this windowsill, looking out towards the distant woods. Even now, standing in this place makes me uneasy. I cannot bear to look down at the ground painted red with her blood.

It was clear to see that his highness was not well. From the moment he spoke to the mysterious man at the door on there was tension. I could feel the uneasy mood of the evening rising, and I suspect the other lords could too. What could the man have said that would rattle the king with such force? Whoever he was Lady Macbeth was comfortable with Macbeth speaking to him. As soon as Macbeth dismissed the man, she roped him back in like a hunter catching a wild animal. The king returned to the table to start our banquet, but looked to have a glint of worry in his eyes.

Three days have passed by since the tragic attack, and it is now the morning of Banquo’s funeral. Macbeth uneasily sits in his room, while he looks at himself in the mirror.  He can’t help but feel guilty of his involvement in Banquo’s murder. He now fears that his greed for a secure throne and his wife’s approval has led him to his corrupt

“Go! And get out of my sight! Stay in your grave. There’s no marrow in your bones, and your blood is cold. You’re staring at me with eyes that have no power to see.” Macbeth began his shouting again, it was strange. Lady Macbeth looking concerned for the guests, she spoke, “Good friends, think of this as nothing more than a strange habit. It’s nothing else. Too bad it’s spoiling our pleasure tonight.”

A dark aura surrounded the room; it was obvious on all the guests timid faces, but no one understood why. Continuing to discuss that His Highness's special quest, Banquo, was unable to attend, chills filled me and the hairs on my neck as if a small wind leaked into the chamber. The chills turned to solid ice as our Majesty, AGAIN, cursed and pointed at the invisible being in the chair. His words still ring inside my head, “Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves/Shall never tremble: or be alive again...” Now, however, we were all issued away by Lady Macbeth. Leaving their steaming food abandoned, Lords empty the room instantly, lacking order, and the servants and I aimed toward our wing.

This whole ceremony was a disaster that will lead to Macbeth’s fall my lord. Things were said and done at this event that no one thane should have seen or heard. Once we left the banquet you could hear the rumors on the street about the king, how he had gone mad, but those who were knowledgeable, began to think about the things that had happened and began to ask questions about the resent murders.

As we are eating I ask king Duncan How does he really feel about Macbeth. “I’m proud of him, he is an amazing guy that does his job really well King Duncan says while chewing his food. I look over at Lady Macbeth and she is just cheerful. She is so ready to be queen and her husband to be the king. I’m still nervous as well as I am grabbing my pearl necklace and barely eating.

“Shame on them then!” Oh my god, the poor thing. No wonder she looked like she was about to cry. “I thought it sounded wonderful and you truly did a marvelous job.”

Macbeth leads us to the main dining room, dressed with magnificent décor, and awaiting us in the middle is a long table topped with delectable dishes filling the air with a mouthwatering aroma. As we enter the room Macbeth instructs us to be seated by our ranks. I see Lady Macbeth entering the room greeting us with a heartwarming welcome. The event will begin shortly, but first Macbeth must attend to an odd looking man near the door. Macbeth steadily strolls back to the table with a sign of worry on his face, but it is quickly wiped away by a cheerful smile. With Macbeth’s recent coronation I’m sure he has had plenty to deal with, but he will not let that business ruin this lovely

“Oh, stuff it, Murray,” Ally said in a raised voice scolding him once again. “Don 't get all high and mighty because you told a decent story. It 's not like it was the best one here tonight.”