THE GHOST OF BANQUO
The huge castle shot out of the sky in a menacing fashion. Glowing torches radiated unimaginable power, as the dark clouds unfurled a humongous moon which illuminated the large lake and the path up to the castle. Intimidating oak doors, both with half a rhino on them, opened to reveal the castle inside.
The excited chatter of people trampling the hall was enough to make a flock of birds turn back. The stars glistened and sparkled in a disorienting pattern. With an almighty creak, the door was flung open. Kinsmen, lords and other people of lower degrees flooded in. A lord exclaimed, “What a glorious feast!”
Suddenly there was a silence all except for one horse whinnying. A door opened and there was a glint in the darkness as at last the king and queen appeared.
There was a shift in the shadows and a guard appeared.
“There is blood upon thy face,” murmured Macbeth.
“Tis Banquo’s then,” grunted the guard. Then the man melted into the shadows.
“Where shall I sit?” questioned Macbeth.
“Here my lord,” replied a lord gesturing to a seat.
Then suddenly the doors were flung open and a gust extinguished the nearby flames, but immediately the doors were closed and the torches were re-lit. Yet by the time Macbeth regained his vision, he was beholding an unholy sight: ‘Banquo…’
Macbeth stumbled and tripped over the castle’s cat, who yelped and scampered away. Macbeth stood up only to hear a dreadful moan:
“Who did this to me?” howled Banquo.
The sight of Banquo was enough to turn any man insane because most of the body was skinless. The head was the worst; his eyes were gooey and were as white as rice pudding. The brain was a writhing snake and the mouth was tongue-less.