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Writing Your Narrative

01.16 Writing Your Narrative

Even though it’s was six days since the announcement of Macbeth’s coronation, people were still celebrating in the streets. Being just the simple young man I was, I wished to meet the great Macbeth one day if I ever got the chance, but maybe I would have been better off never meeting him.

It was already 4:00 PM and I had nothing to do, so I went to see Ross and met the most pleasant surprise. When I walked in, Ross was all dressed. Naturally, with my never ceasing curiosity, I asked Ross where he was going and throwing his arms up he exclaimed, “Oh! Timothy I am so glad you came to visit me. I’m going to Macbeth's coronation dinner and I need someone to accompany me. Who is better to go with me to this exciting event than my most cherished friend? Just change into some of my clothes before we go. Your clothes look too humble for this event. We’re going to see the man himself sitting on the throne!” This request was amazing. It was too good to be true. Without hesitation I said yes, but I thought to myself, did I really look that average and simple?

“Ross, I’m not sure these clothes are well fitting. Are you sure this is what I need to wear?” I looked at Ross with uncertainty, but to my surprise, Ross said I looked better than ever. It was now 5:00 PM and time to head over to Macbeth’s majestic abode. I wondered whether the curtains would be silk and the rug would be velvet with only the best wax candles lit up. I recall being so nervous that I almost fell of my horse not once, but twice.

Finally, it was there before me. The grand castle that I always dreamed about. Maybe I looked a little too excited. Putting his hand on my shoulder, Ross gave me a strong nudge, “Timothy, breathe a little they won’t bite you. Macbeth is a very nice man. Just watch out for Lady Macbeth, she’s a little stoic.”

Now this is when the story gets interesting and a eerie. We were all gathered around the grand dining table and getting seated. It was a group of approximately fifteen people with one chair leftover for Macbeth. There were a few men who kept coming in and out of the room. It looked like they were whispering something into Macbeth’s ear, but it wasn't good news. Each time they said something Macbeth’s eyes looked as if they were glazing over and sinking deeper into his face. These men were unidentifiable people. I even asked Ross who they were and, likewise, he had no idea. The strangest part was that all they did was whisper in Macbeth’s ear. They never even stayed for the dinner. This was the second indicator that something was wrong.

Maybe I forgot to mention this, but the first indicator was when I entered the house. I felt a chill over my body, almost as if something grazed past me. Inside the house, everything was darker than I had imagined. The colors were muted with gray walls, dark green carpet, dark brown curtains and the most alarming, black clothing worn by both Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. It was as if I entered a funeral dinner, not a celebratory dinner.

The third indicator and the most unusual encounter I had ever faced was when Macbeth tried to sit down. As I mentioned before there were fifteen people seated with one extra chair remaining. I wondered why Macbeth was not taking his rightful seat at the head of the table, but when I looked at him, I could not help but notice that he looked ill. This Macbeth was not the one on the portraits I had seen. He looked rugged in his black clothes and his brown eyes were glazed over as if he were not present in the room with us. Politely, Lennox asked Macbeth to take a seat and without hesitation Macbeth replied, “The table’s full.” I thought he was joking, but it was an awfully strange way to make a joke. In confusion I looked around the table and noticed that I was not the only one who was utterly confused. Then, Lady Macbeth caught my eye. In her black clothes and firm facial expression, for the first time the whole night she looked unstable; she looked nervous.

Macbeth’s smile completely faded, his face turned pale, his eyes gazed over and he began murmuring about a ghost–Banquo’s ghost. I was in utter shock and was not able to properly comprehend the situation. There was no ghost. Macbeth was crazy. The once marvelous in my mind Macbeth was actually a crazy man?

I looked at Ross and we exchanged equally frightened glances. I looked back at Lady Macbeth and noticed that she did not look concerned for her husband, but she looked angry. Did she know all along that Macbeth was mentally ill? What was going on? Was this all a dream? “Patrons, oh how silly of Macbeth to be saying these things, it must be from his lack of sleep these days due to the exciting news of his coronation,” Lady Macbeth got up and attempted to cover the incident with lighthearted talk that Macbeth was just nervous, but I knew this wasn't true. Something was fishy. Something was eerie. Something was evil in the room.

Once Macbeth was able to recollect himself, he took his seat, but I could not act as if nothing had happened. Everyone resumed to continue their meal, but I was not able to let this encounter pass. From the eerie chill at the door, to the strange men who whispered bad news, to the ghost that Macbeth claimed to see, it was all wrong. I was unable to stay in this house any longer. Desperately I attempted the catch Ross’ attention and when I did I signaled him to leave. I mouthed the words, “Let’s get out of here. I need to go home,” countless times until finally Ross complied.

After giving thanks to Macbeth and his wife for the great invitation, I made it out as fast as I could. I was not able to look into Macbeth’s eyes and see the hero I once believed in and I was not able to look into Lady Macbeth’s eyes and see the supportive wife that I believed she would be. I had questions running in and out of my head and I began asking Ross one after another.

“Ross, do you think that was odd?”

“What was?”

“Everything was, from the beginning to the end, it was all strange and unfortunate.”

“Oh, the ghost thing? Lady Macbeth said that it was due to his lack of sleep. We should understand their situation. He must be tired.”

“But, Ross, you don’t believe that do you?”

“Of course I do. Why? You don’t?”

From hearing Ross’ answer I was even more horrified. Was everyone from the dinner just going to pass what happened and believe what Lady Macbeth said? Was I the one who was crazy then? Once again I tried getting answers from Ross, “Ross didn’t you see the way Macbeth looked? It was as if he was possessed! And did you see how anxious Lady Macbeth was? Something isn’t right. I think you should tell someone. You have more authority than me.” At this Ross looked at me as if I were a child making up a fantasy story and just dismissed it with a laugh.

That night I tossed and turned all around in my bed. Today, three months later, it was announced that Lady Macbeth killed herself. It is not known why she killed herself, but one thing I know is that it is related to what I witnessed at the coronation dinner. This is an account that I saw firsthand and now I will share this story with everyone.

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