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The diary of Francis Seyton.

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The diary of Francis Seyton. July the 1st 1607 One year hath passed, twelve months I have endured the backstabbing treachery of these troubled times, which are strange beyond all comprehension, and I but a humble servant am trapped inside a conflict of conscience and valour. Many things, all alien to me have I seen or heard, my mind is in turmoil should I believe what I see? Merely a week ago brave king Macbeth was pronounced unwell. When attending a banquet he was suggesting the iniquitous and muttering words dictated by Satan in a disturbing manner. Who would have thought? The king himself. When Macbeth was crowned I swore allegiance to him and his cause. Am I a servant of the devil? I fear so. My fears were accentuated when the most tragic and appalling incident transpired. For many weeks a doctor had been attending to lady Macbeth after a maid requested her attention as she was worried for the lady's well being. I was not informed of the reasoning behind the calling of the doctor but rumours were rife. With my mind a drift believing was not necessarily seeing and therefore I could not confirm any of the circulating gossip, which could so easily be false... ...read more.


But I must prevail, I thrust forward grinding my teeth, clenching my fists, a raging sweat takes over my body, the adrenaline driving me toward. I fight back the serpents and place my hand on the chamber door. It is locked. I hear crying from within the room, which quietens down to a feeble murmur. I draw back and knock on the door, once, no reply, twice, silence, thrice, a blood curdling scream! Terror shoots through my veins like a galloping horse. Oh suck on my chocolate salty balls! Quickly I delve deep into my pocket and grasp my keys. Nervously I struggle to search through the brace and locate the key. Finally after what seemed like hours I set my hands on the key, and inserted it into the mortise lock. The key turned, another scream echoed through the corridor further emphasising my trepidation. I fear what lies ahead, could this be the end of my short-lived existence. I summon the curraige from the depths of my heart and continue to open the now unlocked door, the final stand lies ahead, I worry gravely but I know I must go forth. ...read more.


For an eternity I stand with the queen dying in my arms. Blood covers the room in a viscous sheet, dark red, shining like a sheet of silk. I see the knife glinting in the dull light, blood stained on the floor, and the makeup on the queens face is ruined, ironic, what is on the outside has become what was on the inside, a broken woman. I hear footsteps, too late. As the queen draws her last breath's servants run into the room. They stand and stare at the bloody wreck of the queen and they too begin to cry, with their hands on their hearts, looking towards the floor it is obvious they are too late. Then without warning she exhales, her whole body becomes limp from head to toe, she is dead. I lift her from the chair and place her on her bed. I cannot stand to look at her pretty face stained with blood so I lift up the white sheet covering her bed and place it over her body. One of my colleagues faints and collapses on the floor, obviously overcome by the horror that fills the room. I know that eventually I must leave and give the disparaging news to my master; I fear he will not take it kindly. Yours truly, Francis Seyton ...read more.

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