Insomniac Creative Writing

Throughout the course of Shakespeare’s Scottish tragedy, “Macbeth”, the eponymous hero develops from a highly respected warrior and loyal thane; to a “dead butcher”, executed for his crimes against Scotland, and condemned by all. By making the fatal error of disregarding his conscience and committing regicide in order to gain the crown of Scotland, he seals his own eternal fate and that of Scotland, making her the “grave” of her people.

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

Macbeth had two valid reasons to not commit regicide. One was that he was the king’s relative and subject and secondly, he was the king’s host and he should protect the king at all costs. And this loyal man did fulfil his duty to protect.

Sacrificing one’s well being for personal gain is a mutual theme found in Macbeth and Into the Wild. In Macbeth, Macbeth has made his

I forsake you and your cruel intentions as a traitor to the crown. Your actions correlate with treason and must be held accountable in a court of law. Moreover, You must reveal your wrongdoing and take responsibility for your bloodthirsty ambition. As vile as your heart’s aspiration is, betraying your own people is an unacceptable method to achieve success. How could you slaughter the very man who dines in your castle and promotes you? Wisdom often tends to distinguish men with hopeful determination from fools with fallacious ambition. Shall I declare you a fool? Nevertheless, Macbeth, admit your exploits to the people and accept your punishment. Destiny is never guaranteed, and fate cannot justify senseless actions.

Preview: Many people in today's society believe that they have to be on top in order to have power over people. So many people want power but only a few know how to handle it without letting it get to their heads. In the story “No Fear Shakespeare, Macbeth”, Macbeth became overly ambitious and wanted to do what it took to become king, even if that meant he ad to kill his own king for the thrown.

To become king, such minor incidence shall not perturb us of our duties. We hunted our prey without a mess. Or was the prophecy a blatant hoax. Macbeth was told he was to become King, yet he is still not. We listened with open arms. We sacrificed our dignity and humanity to form an ideal stage for our kinship but all we received was the gateway to the murky hell. These endless hallucinations have caused countless black patches under the eyes and severe traumas of that unforgettable night. Macbeth’s solidarity, leadership and chivalry was no coincidence that fate chose him but yet our reward was something that no sensual perfume could rid of. What did we do

Have I not been a good king, Macbeth? A fair and just ruler? I reward and praise you for your toil and trouble, and in turn, you go and stab me in my sleep? Valiant, honourable, trustworthy, gallant, and slayer of Macdonwald. Thou art all of these, but yet, thou art not.

In Shakespeare's play, Macbeth, Donalbain and Malcolm make a wise decision to flee Scotland since to remain in a country where one is in danger of being framed for one's father’s murder leading to a humiliating death is not a sound judgment.

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s

The wind was as sharp as glass cutting through my fur cloak and breaches. My muscles would stiffen with ever fresh gust that sliced down my neck. I had lived my whole life in Scotland yet this Autumn eve was the most numbing I could remember for a long time. I had never been to Macbeth's castle before yet it’s reputation preceded it. “A castle fit for a King!” Was what a young squire who grew up under the shelter of its walls had told me. I myself had never been a great believer in sprawling intimidating castles. After all Scotland was at peace under my rule. Apart from tat one little spat with the Thane of Cawdor i prode myself on the fact that my subjects feel safe under ym rule. On this night I'm sure it will do I thought to myself anything

I usually don't have nightmares,but this one still terrifies me. In 2008 I was 3 years old and I was just starting to have nightmares. This one nightmare I would always have and it scared the life out of me. When i would fall asleep i would wake up in my dream.

Since the death of Macbeth, I have faced trials by the people of my country. The people have tested me to see if I would lead them in the right direction unlike Macbeth. I honored the code of the people. I delivered a speech addressing what I will accomplish. The speech was not neglected, but showed firmness in my stance for freedom. I told the people that I will not murder like Macbeth did.

The howling of the wind brought my eyes to open. Where was I? Focusing in the dark of night, confusion washed over me as I came to realize I was in the desert. Distant landscapes of dry and worn rock surrounded me, and beneath my bare feet I felt the gritty sand caught between my toes. I was surrounded by those rocky hills and yet as I scanned the desolate desert it seemed never ending. The irony of the nighttime desert suddenly set into my body; that ghastly wind moving right through me and chilling my bones to that of splintering ice. The need to move started me forward though, and I felt a sharp ache all over, my body trying to fight against change. Was I lost? My heart began pounding fast in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins

Where driving Gets me to is insanity; It releases the human Id far better than Sex or drugs or Rock and Roll. Never had I wanted to watch A stranger burn within the wreckage of a Saturn’s plutonic inferno until he cut me off On Lincoln. The tedium of traffic makes it all the worse As brooding amplifies annoyance while I Clutch the wheel like his throat