Macbeth's Narrative-Short Story

“All carriages this way!” shouted a loud voice through the night air. The carriage jolted and bounced as it made its way to the grand banquet hall, and poking my head out the window, I saw its spires gleaming, bright lights streaming from the many glass windows. The sky was clear and cloudless, the stars sparkling with all their glory and the air was thick with anticipation and excitement. Ducking my head back into the carriage, I rethought my decision of attending this coronation, but it was too late to head back now. The carriage rattled and pulled up to the front of the hall alongside hundreds of other carriages, and I exited my carriage and headed toward the white marble steps leading to the grand entrance of the banquet hall.
"Ah, hello
Straining my ears, I located and neared Macbeth and Lady Macbeth conferring quietly, making sure to keep in the darkness of the shadows. What am I doing? I thought. I was not the type of eavesdrop on a private conversation, but to tell the truth, I did not trust Macbeth and I never have. Although I was not a very prominent lord, I was close friends with both of the sons of the former king of Scotland, King Duncan. I believed that it was the right of the eldest son to take the throne. Listening, I heard snatches of their conversation “Duncan,” “blood spilled,” and “ghost.” With a start, I realized that Macbeth and his wife had conspired to kill former King Duncan and his friend Banquo. I decided that I was going to expose Macbeth as a fraud so that he may not become king and do more harm to Scotland’s people. Meaning to slip away without their noticing, I bumped into one of the many vases lining the
I will see that his head is separated from his neck.”
“But husband…” Lady Macbeth pleaded once again, tears shining in her eyes, their tracks marking the flushed, flawless skin of her cheeks.
Macbeth shook her hand off and dug the dagger further into my neck. “I don’t care what you think, I’m going to kill him right here and right now,” he snarled as he dragged the knife from my right ear to my left, blood dripping down my neck, ruining my favorite shirt.
“No!” shouted Lady Macbeth, lunging for her husband.
My heart was racing and I couldn’t think. All I knew is that I had to get out of here before something really bad happens. Gathering all of my courage and strength, for I was not much of a fighter, I dug my elbow into Macbeth’s ribs and bolted. I ran as fast as I could, not knowing where I was going, just trying to make it back to the banquet hall in one piece, and preferably alive. My surroundings blurred around me into one mass of color and it was all I could do to not run into walls as I skidded around corners. Shadows danced against the walls, footsteps pounding against the cold, smooth floor. I should surely be back at the banquet hall by now, I thought, my breathing heavy. Or am I just running around in circles? Alas, it seemed that it was the latter. For when I turned the next corner, who was standing there but Macbeth, a large sword sheathed at his side. I slid to a halt, fatigue taking over my body; I was never very