Studying The Scottish Play, and many writing projects later, I wrote this. I don't know how well it will do on here. It is NOT written in blank verse do to the fact, I cannot write like that. I wrote it in Prose instead, suggesting Lady Macbeth has already lost her sanity. PLease leave comments this all you want! Thanks!
Diary,
The guests came in all splendor and were more gracious. Before we supped, I saw the accomplice of my husband enter. He had the blood of Banquo upon his face. The blood red and fresh, like the blood of Duncan. It was suddenly like the devilish deed had been done right in front of me; blood, his blood lay stained on like a permanent mark. I turned my thoughts away from that, and tried to focus on the child. Was he killed too? No, th answer was he fled the scene unharmed. My husband looked unhappy, almost ill with worry. I should have bee, but I felt relief that the boy got away... relief? What kind of a feeling was that? This Boy, Fleance, was a theat to our reign, yet I was relieved he got free....Am I becoming weak? No! I shouldn't be.
Dinner started off just fine until Macbeth came to join us. The lords asked him to sit, but he insisted the table was full. I looked, but there was an empty seat right in front of him. His face went as pallid as a full moon, when he gazed at the vacant space. Macbeth's sudden cry of terror sent me reeling in panic. What was wrong with this man I called my husband? Macbeth started to speak of the untruth, about seeing a face of gore and claiming he wasn't responsible for it. I rushed to his side, quickly telling the guests that he has had these phases of hallucinations since he was a boy. Macbeth continued to grow worse..speaking of the ghost of Banquo staring at him. I asked him if he was a man or not. Could Macbeth actually be so overwhelmed with guilt that he was seeing Banquo in front of him?
The guests were very anxious and if anything, becoming skeptical, I had to do something; this would be sure evidence we were guilty of Duncan and now of Banquo's deaths. I told them it be best to end the festivities early. The lords and ladies left all too graciously.
I'm past words with fury, my husband the on to fall from fright, in the audience of our subjects. One of them is bound to suspect our deeds. This is too much for this night. Macbeth does come to bed now.
Lady Macbeth
