“You finally arrived. I have dreadfully been waiting to meet your acquaintance, King Macbeth.”
The towering entity standing before Macbeth was, indeed, Gatekeeper of the Underworld. He glared down venomously at the small figure before him, all the while sneering and gushing with sarcasm. The deep, rumbly voice echoed through the walls around them, making certain that the poor, unfortunate souls who had also found their way to the depths of this abyss could take note of Macbeth’s underwhelming appearance. A booming chuckle escaped the Gatekeeper’s lips as he leaned down to greet Macbeth’s worrisome gaze with his terrifying own.
“Do you acknowledge the sins for which sent you down to this gloriously dreary plane?” Macbeth simply purses his lips together for a moment, almost as if he was preparing to reject the question the Gatekeeper had given him. However, after a brief moment of
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Then, how about when you killed Duncan’s servants, after having your wife stage the blood-stained chambers so that it seemed as if they had done the deed instead of yourself? (Macbeth II.ii.54-55) Let me try and recall what you said once more... “O, yet I do repent me of my fury,/[t]hat I did kill them.” (Macbeth II.iii.97-98) Oh, this is golden. You repent for such blasphemous deeds in front of mere mortals, yet you deny doing such acts in front of me? In case you hit your head on the way out of the ferry boat here, need I remind you of where exactly you are right now? Need I remind you of who I am?” The Gatekeeper rancorously spits out the words as if they were more bitter than a twenty-year-old lemon, shooting a blazing glare of fury that could very well have the ability to light a thousand forest fires down at Macbeth. Upon seeing his pale face, stricken with horror, a slow-crawling grin crept across the Gatekeeper’s mien. “Maybe you did not hit your head after all. However, we still have a few more blissful memories to