Macbeth Journal # 4
I confide to you, diary, very late at night or perhaps early in the morning. The sun has yet to rise, yet the moon’s perfect orb glows in the night’s sky amidst the Milkyway and the cosmos. I hear the stark cry...Once again I cannot get the words of the weird sisters to leave my head, they play and replay in their dull, monotone voices over and over again. It is driving me insane! I ponder constantly if Banquo is a threat to me? If he is supposed to father a line of kings, would it not be more effective if I ruined that prophecy to guarantee that my family shall prevail? Banquo is not himself around me; I can feel deep within my bones the coldness and distrust seeping towards me in the air. His eyes bore into mine as if he’s searching beyond the monster that has replaced me for a piece of the great warrior he once knew. I can tell by the way he squints his eyes at me that he knows that I killed Duncan; that he knows I am a tyrant. He surely anticipates my actions that have yet to come; therefore, the only way to save my future and to make sure he doesn’t ruin my plans is to dispose of him and his son... All the more blood to add to my crimson hands.
-Macbeth
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