The Curse of the Scottish Play
Chapter 5: Exorcism
......
I don't own Macbeth.
......
Gruoch waited backstage with her brother. They were hiding in a shadowed corner full of old props and crates and dust, listening to the play. She was worried, and sitting there without anything to do about it only made things worse. She told herself that the best plan was to do absolutely nothing for as long as possible, and hope that Mr. McCorrey would simply decide that there wasn't any need to do anything at all.
Actually, she really doubted that would happen. Mac had been terrorizing the actors for the past four days, the first they'd been working on this production, and they were all practically trembling in their boots. Whether they did anything or not, the poor players jumped at every sound and motion, and cringed at the name Macbeth. She should've known to keep Mac at home for a while. It had just been so nice out, and after all that rain at the last theater they'd been at, she'd only wanted to be outside, as far away as from books, magic, and plays as possible. So much for that. She should've known. But, then, on the other hand, what if the priest came anyway? If Mac hadn't been at the theater, they wouldn't have known.
"Is Banquo gone from court?"
"Ay, madam, but returns again tonight."
"Say to the king I would attend his leisure for a few words."
"Madam, I will."
"Nought's had, all's spent, when our desire is got without content. 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy than by destruction live in doubtful joy. " As Macbeth entered the scene, his Lady promptly forgot the rest of her lines. Gruoch had seen much better.
"How now, my lord," Gruoch picked up for the actress in a whisper to her brother. Mac snapped out of some daydream and looked at her. "Why do you keep alone, of sorriest fancies your companions making, using those thoughts that should indeed have died with those they think on. Things without all remedy should be without regard. What's done is done."
"We have but scorched the snake not kill'd it, " Mac replied, "And who said they were sorry fancies? For all you know, I was thinking about going home, sleeping, and then fixing this whole thing with suddenly very obvious solution."
" Anyone but you might be thinking that. How about telling me which bloody murder it is you were moping about. " Suddenly, she heard a footstep behind her and turned around. Mr. McCorrey had come backstage from the door to the right of the stage. Both the demons froze, staring at him. He hadn't seen them yet, but was looking quietly around the stage. Gruoch and Mac shrunk back into the shadows where they were hiding. They held their breath and stood stone still as he glanced at their corner. Then he left.
Mac and Gruoch spent the last few hours of the day in uneasy silence. Then, as the actors left to go home, they crept out and hid among the props still on stage to listen to Mr. McCorrey talk to the director.
"So, " Mr. Drey began, "What do you think."
"Well, it didn't seem like anything was going on. But, I think that there must have been something for all the actors to be so terrified. And it almost seemed like there was something around here, especially backstage."
"So....is there anything we can do for it?"
"I might try an exorcism. That should fix it."
"That's great, Father. When can you do it?"
"Today. That way you can tell everyone tomorrow that there's nothing to worry about."
"That's wonderful! Thanks, thanks a lot." Mr. Drey shook the priest's hand and left the theater. Mr. McCorrey picked up his little black bag and carried it backstage, with Mac and Gruoch behind him. In the middle of the dusty stage, he set down the bag and opened it. He took out a Bible, a cross, a jar of holy water, and a few other items unrecognizable to the demons.
"Lets see, now..." the priest said to himself, flipping through the pages of his Bible. Mac slowly slipped out of their hiding spot and crept up behind Mr. McCorrey. He had his sword, but he didn't want to use it. Killing security guards didn't bother him very much, and he could handle murdering actors and stage hands, but there seemed something special about killing a priest, something that made it as deep a wrong as an be committed, almost. But an exorcism couldn't be allowed, and if the actors came the next day and found poor Mr. McCorrey lying dead, the play would be canceled. Mac was only a few steps away now. "Here it is..." the old man said, opening the Bible to the page he'd found, and picking up the cross.
Mac's hand was on the hilt of his sword, but he couldn't quite bring himself to draw it. He looked back to where his sister was still hiding. She was looking toward them with almost fear. She didn't really know what was happening. They were both a little scared of the whole thing, and neither of them was certain of what to do. But, Mac thought, what else is there to do. He turned back towards his intended victim, but before he could draw, Mr. McCorrey struck at him with a fist clutching a cross. Mac was caught off-guard, but managed to leap back in time to avoid the blow. Mr. McCorrey held the cross at arm's length between himself and Mac. "What's your name?" he demanded. Mac was frozen. Did he really expect an answer? " In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, " Mr. McCorrey thundered, "What is your name?"
Mac opened his mouth to answer, but caught himself. He was shocked that this man, alone and unarmed, could hold more power over him than droves of armed security guards. But then, he thought, staring at the cross, maybe he wasn't unarmed after all. Maybe Mr. McCorrey's power was in the cross and the other things. Without them, maybe he wouldn't be able to do anything. He took hold of the cross and deftly wrenched it from the priest's hand. The cross burned his hand wherever he touched it, but he didn't let go of it. He walked around Mr. McCorrey and dropped it back into the black bag. He picked up the other things and threw them all haphazardly into the bag, then closed it and slid it back across the stage out of reach. Mr. McCorrey seemed surprised, maybe even stunned. Mac grinned with relief. Suddenly, Mr. McCorrey lashed out with a punch that sent him flying several feet before he hit the ground. Mac sprang to his feet, but the priest dove for his bag and found the holy water and flung the bottle at the slightly dazed demon with all his might. It struck him in the face, the breaking glass cutting him. Mac was drenched in holy water that seared his skin more painfully than fire. He cried out in pain and fell again.
Gruoch ran from her hiding spot. She had never thought that Mr. McCorrey would fight back. And even if he had, she'd never seen anyone beat her brother in a fight. She was amazed. But it didn't matter how powerful he was. They had to stop him. She ran onto the stage and threw herself into the priest, who stood over her brother. He was caught off guard, and toppled to the ground. She regained her balance quickly and helped Mac to his feet. "By the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, " Mr. McCorrey screamed, "tell me your names!" Gruoch was amazed that a middle-aged human priest could hold such power. It didn't make sense. Both demons were resolved to kill and confident in their power to do so when they came earlier to stop the exorcism, but his words and the fury behind them had stripped them of determination and courage. She had always believed in the power of faith, but this was incredible.
But so was the power of pain. The holy water had burned through the right side of Mac's shirt so that it was held onto him only by a few scorched rags and his flesh was burned and smoking underneath. He had never been hurt this badly in his life, had never been humiliated since he was named. He had also never lost a fight or failed a mission, and that was one thing he never planned to do, especially not now. With a wild cry, Mac flung himself towards Mr. McCorrey, ramming the priest with his uninjured shoulder and driving him back against the wall, trapping him there with one arm pinned behind his back. Mr. McCorrey held a cross against Mac's already burned side, but the demon knocked it from his grasp and slapped his hand across the priest's mouth to keep him quiet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he screamed, "We didn't hurt anyone! And here you come to doom our parents so we'll stop kicking the damn light!"
Mr. McCorrey's head was becoming painfully familiar with the theater's brick wall, and it didn't look like Mac had allowed the poor man much room to breath. Suddenly concerned, Gruoch intervened, pulling her brother away from the priest, who sank to the floor. Mac fell, too, when his sister let go of him, and stayed sitting where he fell, his fury exhausted. Mr. McCorrey looked confused and surprised, not seeming to know what to think. Gruoch decided to take advantage of the situation. "Please, sir, listen to us," she asked gently, "Our parents were the Macbeths, and they were good, respectable people, really. And human of course. But when Shakespeare wrote the play, he used real spells, and their souls were trapped here on Earth . We're only trying to break the curse, we won't hurt anyone if we don't have to."
"I'm not falling for any demon's tricks, " Mr. McCorrey snapped, " I believe in the lord, and He tells me that---"
"Mr. McCorrey," Mac interrupted him, rising to stand beside Gruoch. "This is no trick. She told you the truth." There was still doubt and anger in the priest's eyes. "Macamfearnachtill gives you his word."
"And so does Gruoch," his sister added. Mr. McCorrey seemed to believe them. "If you will believe us, then you can tell Mr. Drey that there is nothing to worry about and they won't hear another word from us. Or you can go on with your exorcism and leave our parents trapped here until Judgement Day. It's your choice."
The priest considered it for a long time. Finally he spoke. "What if the curse was broken? Would you stop terrorizing actors and leave the theater forever?" The demons nodded. "Then tomorrow, I'll tell Mr. Drey it's safe, and if neither of you cause any trouble, I'll see if I can help you. But if you so much as make a frightening sound, I'll exorcize you both." He looked cautiously at the two surprised demons. "Do we have a deal?" he asked, offering his hand.
"We do," Mac said, shaking hands with him.
Chapter 5: Exorcism
......
I don't own Macbeth.
......
Gruoch waited backstage with her brother. They were hiding in a shadowed corner full of old props and crates and dust, listening to the play. She was worried, and sitting there without anything to do about it only made things worse. She told herself that the best plan was to do absolutely nothing for as long as possible, and hope that Mr. McCorrey would simply decide that there wasn't any need to do anything at all.
Actually, she really doubted that would happen. Mac had been terrorizing the actors for the past four days, the first they'd been working on this production, and they were all practically trembling in their boots. Whether they did anything or not, the poor players jumped at every sound and motion, and cringed at the name Macbeth. She should've known to keep Mac at home for a while. It had just been so nice out, and after all that rain at the last theater they'd been at, she'd only wanted to be outside, as far away as from books, magic, and plays as possible. So much for that. She should've known. But, then, on the other hand, what if the priest came anyway? If Mac hadn't been at the theater, they wouldn't have known.
"Is Banquo gone from court?"
"Ay, madam, but returns again tonight."
"Say to the king I would attend his leisure for a few words."
"Madam, I will."
"Nought's had, all's spent, when our desire is got without content. 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy than by destruction live in doubtful joy. " As Macbeth entered the scene, his Lady promptly forgot the rest of her lines. Gruoch had seen much better.
"How now, my lord," Gruoch picked up for the actress in a whisper to her brother. Mac snapped out of some daydream and looked at her. "Why do you keep alone, of sorriest fancies your companions making, using those thoughts that should indeed have died with those they think on. Things without all remedy should be without regard. What's done is done."
"We have but scorched the snake not kill'd it, " Mac replied, "And who said they were sorry fancies? For all you know, I was thinking about going home, sleeping, and then fixing this whole thing with suddenly very obvious solution."
" Anyone but you might be thinking that. How about telling me which bloody murder it is you were moping about. " Suddenly, she heard a footstep behind her and turned around. Mr. McCorrey had come backstage from the door to the right of the stage. Both the demons froze, staring at him. He hadn't seen them yet, but was looking quietly around the stage. Gruoch and Mac shrunk back into the shadows where they were hiding. They held their breath and stood stone still as he glanced at their corner. Then he left.
Mac and Gruoch spent the last few hours of the day in uneasy silence. Then, as the actors left to go home, they crept out and hid among the props still on stage to listen to Mr. McCorrey talk to the director.
"So, " Mr. Drey began, "What do you think."
"Well, it didn't seem like anything was going on. But, I think that there must have been something for all the actors to be so terrified. And it almost seemed like there was something around here, especially backstage."
"So....is there anything we can do for it?"
"I might try an exorcism. That should fix it."
"That's great, Father. When can you do it?"
"Today. That way you can tell everyone tomorrow that there's nothing to worry about."
"That's wonderful! Thanks, thanks a lot." Mr. Drey shook the priest's hand and left the theater. Mr. McCorrey picked up his little black bag and carried it backstage, with Mac and Gruoch behind him. In the middle of the dusty stage, he set down the bag and opened it. He took out a Bible, a cross, a jar of holy water, and a few other items unrecognizable to the demons.
"Lets see, now..." the priest said to himself, flipping through the pages of his Bible. Mac slowly slipped out of their hiding spot and crept up behind Mr. McCorrey. He had his sword, but he didn't want to use it. Killing security guards didn't bother him very much, and he could handle murdering actors and stage hands, but there seemed something special about killing a priest, something that made it as deep a wrong as an be committed, almost. But an exorcism couldn't be allowed, and if the actors came the next day and found poor Mr. McCorrey lying dead, the play would be canceled. Mac was only a few steps away now. "Here it is..." the old man said, opening the Bible to the page he'd found, and picking up the cross.
Mac's hand was on the hilt of his sword, but he couldn't quite bring himself to draw it. He looked back to where his sister was still hiding. She was looking toward them with almost fear. She didn't really know what was happening. They were both a little scared of the whole thing, and neither of them was certain of what to do. But, Mac thought, what else is there to do. He turned back towards his intended victim, but before he could draw, Mr. McCorrey struck at him with a fist clutching a cross. Mac was caught off-guard, but managed to leap back in time to avoid the blow. Mr. McCorrey held the cross at arm's length between himself and Mac. "What's your name?" he demanded. Mac was frozen. Did he really expect an answer? " In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, " Mr. McCorrey thundered, "What is your name?"
Mac opened his mouth to answer, but caught himself. He was shocked that this man, alone and unarmed, could hold more power over him than droves of armed security guards. But then, he thought, staring at the cross, maybe he wasn't unarmed after all. Maybe Mr. McCorrey's power was in the cross and the other things. Without them, maybe he wouldn't be able to do anything. He took hold of the cross and deftly wrenched it from the priest's hand. The cross burned his hand wherever he touched it, but he didn't let go of it. He walked around Mr. McCorrey and dropped it back into the black bag. He picked up the other things and threw them all haphazardly into the bag, then closed it and slid it back across the stage out of reach. Mr. McCorrey seemed surprised, maybe even stunned. Mac grinned with relief. Suddenly, Mr. McCorrey lashed out with a punch that sent him flying several feet before he hit the ground. Mac sprang to his feet, but the priest dove for his bag and found the holy water and flung the bottle at the slightly dazed demon with all his might. It struck him in the face, the breaking glass cutting him. Mac was drenched in holy water that seared his skin more painfully than fire. He cried out in pain and fell again.
Gruoch ran from her hiding spot. She had never thought that Mr. McCorrey would fight back. And even if he had, she'd never seen anyone beat her brother in a fight. She was amazed. But it didn't matter how powerful he was. They had to stop him. She ran onto the stage and threw herself into the priest, who stood over her brother. He was caught off guard, and toppled to the ground. She regained her balance quickly and helped Mac to his feet. "By the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, " Mr. McCorrey screamed, "tell me your names!" Gruoch was amazed that a middle-aged human priest could hold such power. It didn't make sense. Both demons were resolved to kill and confident in their power to do so when they came earlier to stop the exorcism, but his words and the fury behind them had stripped them of determination and courage. She had always believed in the power of faith, but this was incredible.
But so was the power of pain. The holy water had burned through the right side of Mac's shirt so that it was held onto him only by a few scorched rags and his flesh was burned and smoking underneath. He had never been hurt this badly in his life, had never been humiliated since he was named. He had also never lost a fight or failed a mission, and that was one thing he never planned to do, especially not now. With a wild cry, Mac flung himself towards Mr. McCorrey, ramming the priest with his uninjured shoulder and driving him back against the wall, trapping him there with one arm pinned behind his back. Mr. McCorrey held a cross against Mac's already burned side, but the demon knocked it from his grasp and slapped his hand across the priest's mouth to keep him quiet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he screamed, "We didn't hurt anyone! And here you come to doom our parents so we'll stop kicking the damn light!"
Mr. McCorrey's head was becoming painfully familiar with the theater's brick wall, and it didn't look like Mac had allowed the poor man much room to breath. Suddenly concerned, Gruoch intervened, pulling her brother away from the priest, who sank to the floor. Mac fell, too, when his sister let go of him, and stayed sitting where he fell, his fury exhausted. Mr. McCorrey looked confused and surprised, not seeming to know what to think. Gruoch decided to take advantage of the situation. "Please, sir, listen to us," she asked gently, "Our parents were the Macbeths, and they were good, respectable people, really. And human of course. But when Shakespeare wrote the play, he used real spells, and their souls were trapped here on Earth . We're only trying to break the curse, we won't hurt anyone if we don't have to."
"I'm not falling for any demon's tricks, " Mr. McCorrey snapped, " I believe in the lord, and He tells me that---"
"Mr. McCorrey," Mac interrupted him, rising to stand beside Gruoch. "This is no trick. She told you the truth." There was still doubt and anger in the priest's eyes. "Macamfearnachtill gives you his word."
"And so does Gruoch," his sister added. Mr. McCorrey seemed to believe them. "If you will believe us, then you can tell Mr. Drey that there is nothing to worry about and they won't hear another word from us. Or you can go on with your exorcism and leave our parents trapped here until Judgement Day. It's your choice."
The priest considered it for a long time. Finally he spoke. "What if the curse was broken? Would you stop terrorizing actors and leave the theater forever?" The demons nodded. "Then tomorrow, I'll tell Mr. Drey it's safe, and if neither of you cause any trouble, I'll see if I can help you. But if you so much as make a frightening sound, I'll exorcize you both." He looked cautiously at the two surprised demons. "Do we have a deal?" he asked, offering his hand.
"We do," Mac said, shaking hands with him.