The torrential rain whipped against the ancient brick walls, as the mist hugged the castle making it barely visible. A slither of moonlight appeared through the clouds as they carried on moving in the same formation. The tapping of Lady Macbeth’s long fingernails echoed down the hall. Her face, as pale as the moon, was becoming angry and impatient and her piercing eyes widened. The thunder roared as the owl screeched. Out of nowhere, Macbeth ran into the room and mumbled,
“I have done the deed.”
Beside the murderer, Lady Macbeth hissed, “No need to be ashamed, future king.”
Slithering towards her husband, Lady Macbeth turned her worried face into a smile. She whispered in his ear, “You will claim all the power like the witches said.”
Seconds later, the Thane of Cawdor showed his wife the bloody daggers, worried about what she was about to say. His wife’s pale face soon turned blood- red with pure anger. She stormed towards the candle and puffed it out stealing all the rest of Macbeth’s inner hope.
“Go put the daggers back!” the serpent exclaimed cold-heartedly.
“I will go no more,” Macbeth sobbed.
“The dead are nothing more than paintings, they will not talk to you,” said Lady Macbeth with an enraged tone.
Infirm of purpose” she yelled at the top of her voice while snatching the daggers out of Macbeth’s hand. She sprinted to the guards meanwhile ripping her dress.