The Curse I Bear

“I’m a witch from Macbeth. After Macbeth receives his second prophecy, the other witches disappear, but I stay behind, only to hear him angrily curse us for what we showed him.”

(Lights up the candle with a frown)

“Should I stay silent, or speak the truth before I vanish into the night? Macbeth curses us - “midnight hags,” “filthy,” “pernicious”- and damns the very air we ride on, but is it we who deserve his malice?

“Infected be the air whereon they ride,” he said, Macbeth, the man who summoned us with (mimics trembling hands) trembling hands and burning (mimics popping, using hands, close to eyes) eyes of ambition. Anon (eyes full of anger) he spits our names like venom.

He conjured us with demands, so we gave him what he asked for: visions (pushes hand outward for every word of the list) , warnings, glimpses of what might be. We didst not command nor deceive. We simply showed, didn’t we?

(Chuckles dryly) But I guess truth, when held by a man like Macbeth, becomes a weapon.

He heard “Beware Macduff,” and chose murder. He heard “none of woman born shall harm Macbeth,” and crowned himself invincible. He heard “Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill shall come,” and laughed at the forest, (Chuckles dryly) blind to metaphor and deaf to caution.

But when the crown dripped of blood and guilt, he turned on us, as if we whispered treason into his ear and shoved the dagger into his hands. (Slams fists on table)

Nay (quietly). Yonder was his doing.

We art not the villains of his story. We art the mirror, (Mimics mirror using hand but pushes it away) and he cannot bear to look (shouts).

He scolds us for the visions we gave, but it is he (shouts and points) who twisted them into violence. He saw Banquo’s line stretch and let envy rot his soul.

I remember the way he stood before us. The way he was so sure, so desperate and so hollow. He wanted certainty. He wanted (pauses then emphasises on the next word) control. However, fate is not a servant. It doth not bend to desire. It only reveals.

But, he blames us…

He should know yonder we did not choose this life. We were cast into it. I was once a girl (head tilts and a sad smile appears) with laughter in her lungs and (eyes wander off) sunlight in her hair. I hadst a name. (Whispers) A family. A possible future. (Exhales forcefully) It all vanished the moment they branded me as a witch, (voice volume slowly increases) and left me to listen to men like Macbeth threaten us for answers.

Still… I dream.

I dream of a world where we art seen not as monsters, but as women, powerful, and worthy.

But perhaps it is too late.

The world will never see beyond the spells and the smoke.

The world will never know that I am (Whispers) weary of watching men destroy themselves and call it our curse.

And Macbeth (scoffs), he will go on, chasing ghosts (signals to the side), drowning in blood and blaming the shadows. He will curse the air, the stars, the very earth beneath his feet, but he will never curse the true source of his ruin.

What he will never understand is the truth I chose to reveal tonight, yonder it is not the air that is infected.

It is him, and when his ambitious and murderous flame flickers, it will go out (Blows out candle).