Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of Shakespeare's work. Nor do I own the military dictatorship of Argentina. Because that would be weird. Also, because this was inspired by a group production, a lot of the inside jokes and little quirks to the characters were thought up by their respective actors, and my Humanities teachers came up with the setting.

Dear Readers: This story is dedicated to everyone in my grade for an awesome production :)

And also to Larry Jr. the Lizard, the mascot of the tech table.

A big thanks to The Slaying Assassin for being my beta reader.

Weird Update On The Author's Personal Life: It never ceases to amaze me how much clay can get stuck in a garlic press.

Notes On Setting: The production of Macbeth that inspired me to write this story took place in Argentina around the time of the military dictatorship. The witches were supposed to represent Las Abuelas De Plaza De Mayo, and Juan and Eva Peron were the counterparts of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. We also had six witches instead of three, the three main ones and the witch ensemble.

Beyond having a role backstage dragging around a chair, I played a servant and had a grand total of two lines. Along with some of my friends, I thought up an elaborate backstory for my character.

I will not be writing this story in Shakespearean language because I don't want to butcher anything, unless there is an actual line from the play that I want to use.

Nicolas had never been one to stand out. He was a simple peasant living in Birnam Wood. Being somewhat of a recluse, he stayed in the forest most of the time, and lived alone. He knew little of any family he may have had.

Nicolas, or Nico as he prefered to be called (not that anyone was around to call him anything), would've gone insane long ago if it weren't for his pet goat. Nico's goat Miguel, or Señor Miguel as he affectionately called him, was the only thing he had left in life. Back when he was young and careless, he had rescued the little goat from a hunter's snare and defended him from the rather annoyed hunter. The two of them had been best friends ever since. For Nicolas, his days were spent evading the troops trying to recruit him for the ever-present war, and the thought of caring for Miguel was the only thing that kept him going. He didn't like to fight, and instead spent his life hiding out in the woods.

Miguel was an old goat who had been with Nico for most of his life. They both knew that the time would come, and one day Miguel became very sick. He could barely stand up, and was too weak to climb onto Nico's bed and lick his face in the morning.

Nico tried everything to save the poor goat, even braving the judgmental streets to seek help, but nothing seemed to work. One day, while he was sitting on the porch and petting the sickly goat, he decided. He had to get help for Miguel. And for that, he needed a job. He had spent his life doing nothing, and now his dearest friend was suffering from it. Money would allow him to get medicine for Miguel, and maybe even a good goat doctor.

With a hood over his head to hide his identity, Nico strode purposefully through the streets. He was constantly looking over his shoulder in Thankfully, no one stopped him, and he soon reached Castle Dunsinane. At the gate, a bored looking guard looked up. "What do you want?" she asked, leaning on her spear.

"Does your master happen to have any job openings?"

"Can't see why you would want to work here, but go on in." The guard gestured with her spear.

"Aren't you going to open the gate?"

"Nah. You can use the back door."

The castle was greater than anything Nico could imagine. Lavish decorations and grand furniture adorned every room. Another servant led him to an office and handed him a form and a quill. "Good luck." He gave a little smile and backed away. "Be warned, our master is rather temperamental," he cautioned.

Nico started on the form, his job application. Once he finished it, he handed it to a lady sitting at the desk, Macbeth's secretary. She began to look through it:

What is thy name? Nico Miguel (he had taken on the last name of his goat friend)

Previous experience: none

Place of residence: Birnam Wood

She raised an eyebrow at 'lives with pet goat' with a little cartoon sketch of Miguel next to it, but eventually finished reading and shrugged. "You're in," she said. The war had made it harder to find capable help around the castle, so they would take what they could get.

"When do I start?" Nico asked.

"Now." She chucked a basket of laundry at him.

Three days into his job, Nico was yet to actually meet the fabled Macbeth or his cunning wife face to face. Plus he didn't get paid very much, and he had seen more dirty socks than he ever would've wanted in his life. But he thought he was doing pretty well. Miguel was hanging on. He felt bad leaving the goat at home while he went to work, but he knew it was for the best.

On the way back home on his fourth day, he noticed a small commotion. From what he could gather, Macbeth was confronting another man, presumably the king's son Malcolm, for having an affair with his wife. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he took a different way out of the city. He walked quickly, eager to check on his best friend. As soon as he reached the edge of the forest, he got the strange feeling that someone was watching him.

Then he saw them. Three figures shrouded by smoke were huddled by a nearby hill. As he watched, three more stepped up to meet them. When the smoke cleared, six of the ugliest ladies imaginable were suddenly much closer, standing in front of him. Nico had stumbled upon a coven of witches. Or had they found him?

One of the witches seemed to be the leader, stepping in front of the rest. Her eyes were wild and her hair wilder; she approached him, reaching with a bony hand. Beside her, an almost feral looking witch knelt, leaning forwards and staring at Nico, motionless. Another younger witch peered over the leader's shoulder, calling another one of her sisters out of the shadows. They nodded and smiled, studying him intently.

On one side of the leader were two identical witches. They babbled incoherently to each other, pointing at Nico and giggling. One of them winked at him.

Nico wasn't sure where to look. His knees felt weak at the intense gazes of the weird sisters.

The witch in the lead stepped forwards, reaching to touch him and blocking his path. She opened her mouth as if to speak. The others moved in closer around him, forming a circle.

They were going to kill him and eat him, Nico was sure of it. Just his luck. They'd probably grind his bones into bread or something. Would anyone even notice if he was to disappear that day? Had he done anything worth doing? Any evidence that he ever had existed would be gone. But what of his goat? He had an image of Miguel finding the strength to stand up and walk to the door, where he would sit, waiting patiently for his best friend's return.

Something snapped in Nico. He yelled, "I don't want trouble!", ducking under the witch's outstretched arm and bolting. He ran through the forest, crying and screaming for Señor Miguel and seeming to see the witches' faces at every turn. He couldn't go back there. Not ever.

As soon as he got home, he hugged Miguel, sobbing into the goat's fur. Miguel bleated weakly. Just when he thought things were taking a turn for the better, this had to happen. Nico somehow knew that these witches wouldn't leave him alone.

That night was a terrible storm. And sure enough, outside his window, there was a gathering.

"When shall we six meet again?" The leader of the witches turned to her sisters with a malevolent grin.

*Cue ominous music*

I don't think the witches will ever leave Nico alone. I wonder what they have in store for him...

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