Banquo's Ghost

I just can’t believe what happened today at the banquet. I was glad to know that Banquo is dead, but I must keep an eye on Fleance. He might avenge me one day but I don’t have to worry about it now. Not even a bit. During the banquet, I saw a frightening creature. It was a ghost, not just any ordinary ghost, but Banquo’s ghost with blood dripping from all the twenty deep gashes that my murderers gave him. I have no words to explain my feelings. My heart started to beat like a drum and beads of sweat dripped down my face. I felt like my heart was going stop beating any second soon. Not only that, he was sitting on my place! Is this supposed to mean death for me?

Banquo’s ghost started to move toward me. I would not have been afraid, if Banquo took any other form. It was the horrible sight of the blood dripping face that scared the hell out of me. The sight is still in my eyes. I don’t think I can ever sleep again. My wife was upset with my reaction, but I just can’t explain what I saw and she wouldn't believe me. I was frustrated when she asked if I was a man. It was this same question of hers that made me kill Duncan. Who would not react if they saw a ghost, especially like the picture above with blood dripping down to the ground?

I wonder how I looked in front of all the guests. It would have seemed as if I had a split personality. My wife told them that I was often like this from my childhood. What would they think about me now? Wouldn’t they think I am not fit to be the King of Scotland? My reactions might have made my guests suspicious. How stupid can I be? I have murdered the trustworthy King and my close friend Banquo to become what I am today, the King of Scotland, and now I was almost going to ruin everything. I just can’t decide if Banquo’s ghost was my imagination, like the dagger from before, or if it was in fact real, but one thing I know for sure…danger is fast approaching my throne.

Confused and panicking...

These past few hours have been the most confusing of my entire life. I tremble from head to toe when I think of the deed that has been set upon me. No... the dead that has been forcefully heaved upon me. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard those hateful words pour out of my beloved wife's mouth. Kill the rightful king? Kill my king? Kill King Duncan? Jeez! I'm not stupid; when I arrived home from battle, I could almost hear the gears of murder clicking in my lady's head. I felt so ridden with guilt that I could barely swallow with my king sitting right across from me at dinner. He looked at me with pride and said all this good stuff about me, that I was the greatest warrior of all time (yeah, I kind of am), and that I was a pleasure to have as subject.

If only I could resist my wife's words weaving around me like a spider web (I'm in a situation that is similar to the giant spider Shelob attacking Frodo in Lord of the Rings in the picture above). Then she questioned my manliness! Ha! Does she not know that I have skewered the enemy and sliced off their heads as if they were mere vegetables? That my knees never, ever shook with fear when blood poured from them like a great waterfall? Although that should not be compared to killing my king! My king is not my enemy; I am his servant! When it comes to killing your innocent master, my lady is much more of a man than I am. Oh, if only those horrid witches hadn't made those prophesies.

But they say that I am to be king! King! Can you believe it? King Macbeth! It could be worth it. A golden crown, a scepter, everyone following your command... There are benefits. I do not want to kill Duncan. (It feels silly to call him my king when I will soon kill him). But I want the crown very badly. I also know that I am definitely going to follow my lady's commands; thinks that she has already convinced me and will probably murder me along with Duncan if she finds that I am still uncertain. I will go now. Wish me luck, everyone.