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Macbeths Narrative-Short Story Essay

“All carriages this way! ” shouted a loud voice through the night air. The carriage jolted and bounced as it made its way to the grand banquet hall, and poking my head out the window, I saw its spires gleaming, bright lights streaming from the many glass windows. The sky was clear and cloudless, the stars sparkling with all their glory and the air was thick with anticipation and excitement. Ducking my head back into the carriage, I rethought my decision of attending this coronation, but it was too late to head back now.

The carriage rattled and pulled up to the front of the hall alongside hundreds of other carriages, and I exited my carriage and headed toward the white marble steps leading to the grand entrance of the banquet hall. “Ah, hello Lord Edwin,” said the servant at the door. “I trust that you are well? ” “I’m fine, thank you,” I replied as I passed him and entered the banquet. Elegant dresses of every color, size, and style flashed before me, worn by ladies of equal splendor. The gentlemen, while not as extravagantly dressed as the women, still looked equally dashing.

In the middle of the floor, people danced, the women’s skirts swishing back and forth in time to the music. Perfume wafted through the air, as well as the strong aroma or garlic and other herbs. The musicians played the most beautiful tunes and laughter could be heard throughout the hall. My gaze wandered to the hall itself, its walls draped in Scotland’s banners, chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, and tables upon tables covered in draping white tablecloths filled with the most decadent looking and smelling food lined the sides of the hall. Floor to ceiling windows framed with drapes was present on both long walls.

I strolled through the room, greeting passing noblemen and women as I made my way to one of the tables. Soon afterward, the people had settled down and taken their seats. Macbeth and his wife were visible at the head of the table. Macbeth looked every bit the king he was soon to be: a towering, muscled build, a polished, a gleaming sword at his side, and eyes that were full of spark and energy. Lady Macbeth was a beauty: tall, elegant, dressed in an extravagant gown. But no one could mistake her for a gentle thing, for her eyes had flame and darkness sparking in them.

Macbeth stood and spoke to the people. “I know that many of you are still overwhelmed by grief for our late king, King Duncan, and I understand that but Thope that you will accept me as your new king and I will try my best to maintain and pleasant and fair rule while I am on this throne,” then sat back down. “All hail Macbeth, king of Scotland! ” shouted someone from one of the many tables. The cheer was echoed by others and glasses were raised in a toast. The man next to me elbowed me in the side and I realized that I had echoed the cheer nor raised my glass.

Sorry,” I mumbled and proceeding to mimic the others. I watched as a man dressed in dark clothing, such a contrast to all of the other guests at the banquet, approached Macbeth and pull him off to the side. As the man spoke, Macbeth’s face turned pale. He nodded and the dark-clothed man retreated into the shadows. After the man departed, Macbeth sat back down but all of the sudden he looked as though he had seen a ghost. How strange, I wondered. What could he have seen that made him look so? Macbeth turned toward his wife and they went away.

It was not like me to snoop, but I said a quiet “excuse me” to the people seated next to me and left my seat to sneak out to one of the many hallways. Straining my ears, I located and neared Macbeth and Lady Macbeth conferring quietly, making sure to keep in the darkness of the shadows. What am I doing? I thought. I was not the type of eavesdrop on a private conversation, but to tell the truth, I did not trust Macbeth and I never have. Although I was not a very prominent lord, I was close friends with both of the sons of the former king of Scotland, King Duncan.

I believed that t was the right of the eldest son to take the throne. Listening, I heard snatches of their conversation “Duncan,” “blood spilled,” and “ghost. ” With a start, I realized that Macbeth and his wife had conspired to kill former King Duncan and his friend Banquo. I decided that I was going to expose Macbeth as a fraud so that he may not become king and do more harm to Scotland’s people. Meaning to slip away without their noticing, I bumped into one of the many vases lining the hallway. Crash! Macbeth and his wife looked up, their eyes wide, and I’m afraid that I looked the same.

Before I could even make a move, Macbeth was behind me, a large hand gripping my hair and a dagger at my throat. “How much did you hear? ” he asked, digging the dagger even deeper into the skin at my neck. “Enough to know that you are a murderer and to expose you to everyone,”|| replied, try-ing to sound more confident than I really was, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure that Macbeth could hear it. “I don’t believe that you are in much of a position to make demands,” he jeered, but he sounded worried. “Here’s a proposition: I let you go and you don’t tell a word of what you heard or saw tonight to anyone.

“I would never do that, you swine,” through clenched teeth. “Have it your way then,” he said and shrugged and started to drag the dagger across my throat. Just then, Lady Macbeth grabbed her husband’s arm. “Maybe we shouldn’t kill him, dear,” she exclaimed to Macbeth, not letting go of his arm. Shocked, I couldn’t do anything but stand and listen. Why is she helping me? It’s not like she has any reason to like me and the fact that I just threatened to expose their treachery would just make her more likely to want me dead. Maybe she, despite her husband’s actions, regrets her decisions.

I looked more closely at her and noticed that even though she seemed hard and unbreakable at first, her eyes gave away the guilt and grief that hung over her every day, haunt-ing her, breaking her bit by bit. I glanced again at Macbeth and saw that his eyes were alight with the anticipation of killing me. So different than the eyes of the man that standing at the head of the banquet table earlier. I stayed still and watched the scene unfold, hoping that Macbeth might loosen his grip on my hair. “Haven’t we done enough killing already husband? ” she pleaded, eyes wide with fright. We should let him live, but make sure that he won’t talk. ”

“What has happened to you? ” Macbeth growled, his face turning red with anger. “You were the one who urged me to kill the king in the first place. ” “Yes, I know, but I’ve looked things over and I’ve changed. ” “I’m not going to let him leave this place alive. I will see that his head is separated from his neck. ” “But husband… ” Lady Macbeth pleaded once again, tears shining in her eyes, their tracks marking the flushed, flawless skin of her cheeks.

Macbeth shook her hand off and dug the dagger further into my neck. I don’t care what you think, I’m going to kill him right here and right now,” he snarled as he dragged the knife from my right ear to my left, blood dripping down my neck, ruining my favorite shirt. “No! ” shouted Lady Macbeth, lunging for her husband. My heart was racing and I couldn’t think. All I knew is that I had to get out of here before something really bad happens. Gathering all of my courage and strength, for I was not much of a fighter, I dug my elbow into Macbeth’s ribs and bolted. I ran as fast as I could, not knowing where I was going, just trying to make it back to the banquet hall in one piece, and preferably alive.

My surroundings blurred around me into one mass of color and it was all I could do to not run into walls as I skidded around corners. Shadows danced against the walls, footsteps pounding against the cold, smooth floor. I should surely be back at the banquet hall by now, I thought, my breathing heavy. Or am I just running around in circles? Alas, it seemed that it was the latter. For when I turned the next corner, who was standing there but Macbeth, a large sword sheathed at his side. I slid to a halt, fatigue taking over my body; I was never very athletic, much to my father’s chagrin.

In a split second, Macbeth was standing near to me, only about two feet away and he knocked my legs out from under me, falling on my knees. “I hope you’ll reconsider,” he said smiling down at me. “Never,” I panted, sweating gleaming across my brow, dripping into my eyes, and my heart thumping frantically against my ribcage. “Then what happens next is your own fault. ” The last thing I heard and saw was the whine of the sword being pulled out of the scab-bard and a flash of beautifully crafted silver before everything went black.

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