By the light of the moon (ota, nudge Martha)
There were some stars visible between the clouds. It was yet to be cold. Here, though, Macbeth thougth that it would not get cold as it did in his Scotland. He sat in the graveyard, his back against a stone.
A specific stone. One that had just appeared. It said Banquo, the word carved into the stone deep as if it had always been there.
In his hand, Macbeth held a half-drunk bottle of whiskey. Ghosts, it seemed, were never that far away. He took another deep swallow, his head falling back against the marble.
A specific stone. One that had just appeared. It said Banquo, the word carved into the stone deep as if it had always been there.
In his hand, Macbeth held a half-drunk bottle of whiskey. Ghosts, it seemed, were never that far away. He took another deep swallow, his head falling back against the marble.