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crack_van2009-10-13 09:09 am
pargoletta.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-10-13 09:09 am
Entry tags:
Miserably Afraid Of The Light by Voorishsign (G)
Fandom: SHAKESPEARE -- MACBETH
Pairing: Macbeth/Banquo
Length: 700 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
voorishsign
Author Website:a_strange_fear
Why this must be read: The Scottish Play is a strange one, no doubt about that, and one of its strangest characters is the title character. Himself appears to be a basically good guy caught up in the throes of ambition -- and it isn't even clear that the ambition is necessarily his. The big guilt scenes in the play belong to Herself, of course, but Himself had to have been having his own private torment, too. Voorishsign gives us just a little snippet of how dreadful that guilt could be. It's vaguely Dickensian, certainly disturbing, and a fine read.
"Everything I ever had is yours, o king. You had my sword. My loyalty. My faith. My heart. I would have died a hundred times for you."
The unyielding wall is at Macbeth's back; his shaking hands find the sides of his head and he lets out a pitiful moan, low and helpless. He blinks away the wetness in his eyes momentarily and watches the apparition as it hangs, unmoving, in the air. It looks like foxfires and moonlight, pale and sickly, its eyes are unblinking and white with no pupils. He remembers the light they used to have to them and the memory is a knife in his heart. He remembers the warmth of him, the taste of his lips which maintain the same curve, the touch of his fingers, mere fog now, and the knife twists. Maybe there was joy in living, once. But time moves forward, never back.
"Forgive me. Oh, forgive me."
"My lord," the ghost replies, coldly, "Do you even know what forgiveness is, or what you beg it for?"
Miserably Afraid Of The Light
Pairing: Macbeth/Banquo
Length: 700 words
Author on LJ:
voorishsignAuthor Website:
a_strange_fearWhy this must be read: The Scottish Play is a strange one, no doubt about that, and one of its strangest characters is the title character. Himself appears to be a basically good guy caught up in the throes of ambition -- and it isn't even clear that the ambition is necessarily his. The big guilt scenes in the play belong to Herself, of course, but Himself had to have been having his own private torment, too. Voorishsign gives us just a little snippet of how dreadful that guilt could be. It's vaguely Dickensian, certainly disturbing, and a fine read.
"Everything I ever had is yours, o king. You had my sword. My loyalty. My faith. My heart. I would have died a hundred times for you."
The unyielding wall is at Macbeth's back; his shaking hands find the sides of his head and he lets out a pitiful moan, low and helpless. He blinks away the wetness in his eyes momentarily and watches the apparition as it hangs, unmoving, in the air. It looks like foxfires and moonlight, pale and sickly, its eyes are unblinking and white with no pupils. He remembers the light they used to have to them and the memory is a knife in his heart. He remembers the warmth of him, the taste of his lips which maintain the same curve, the touch of his fingers, mere fog now, and the knife twists. Maybe there was joy in living, once. But time moves forward, never back.
"Forgive me. Oh, forgive me."
"My lord," the ghost replies, coldly, "Do you even know what forgiveness is, or what you beg it for?"
Miserably Afraid Of The Light
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