Post by Maleficent on Jan 8, 2015 16:33:03 GMT -5
Outside Paris, far away from the noise of the city, was a well-kept and stately manor. The garden outside was beautiful and well kept, and the estate witnessed of wealth and prosperity for the owners. Inside this manor, on the Master bedroom, stood a tall woman dressed in dark robes by the fireplace. Hung over the fire was a large cauldron, and a brew of mysterious color and odor was boiling inside it while the woman stirred around in it with a wooden spoon. Her fair green skin was reflected in the flickering light from the fireplace, and her yellow eyes glowed with delight as she worked. She chanted rhythmically while she stirred, her voice soft and melodious with a hidden malice in it.
(Original from Macbeth of William Shakespeare)
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin'd.
Harpier cries:—'tis time! 'tis time!
Round about the caldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.—
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot!
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg'd i the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,—
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingrediants of our caldron.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
While she stirred in the cauldron, she saw images in the brew. Images of a gypsy girl and a silverhaired old man, of a beautiful Indian woman, a blonde man and a lion. The woman's lips curled in an evil smile when she saw the images. She had plans to involve herself in the lives of all these individuals, but what results it would bring was yet uncertain.
As the brew cooled, she petted the black raven on her shoulder, speaking to him with a soft voice. "We will start with the gypsy first, my little one. I can sense she has lost her mother early in life, and the poor child wonders who she is. Should we not lend a hand to help? But how to reach her? Gypsies can't read... I know, we send her a messenger! She will believe in the message if it is brought to her by an old friend, don't you think? I will have to change my appearance for a while, to appear more trustworthy, but then... then they will all fall for my schemes. One by one I will bring them offers they can not refuse... until they all are controlled by me...."
Her evil laughter echoed through the room, and the raven watched in silence as the woman drank the potion she had mixed. Her appearance changed, she shrunk a bit until she looked like an old gypsy woman with silver hair, emerald eyes and the sadness of the world in her eyes. "The change is done," she told the raven. "Now we only need to wait for the storm I sent to the great oceans. If it goes as planned, the storm will drive the Indian here, just like I planned...."
Near the ocean dark storm clouds appeared on the sky. The waves grew large as houses, throwing the boats from wave to wave until they hit the rock. The people in the villages went inside their houses and watched the storm in fear. Never before had it been as fierce as today. What would the storm bring? Only the gods would know...
(Original from Macbeth of William Shakespeare)
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin'd.
Harpier cries:—'tis time! 'tis time!
Round about the caldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.—
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot!
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg'd i the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,—
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingrediants of our caldron.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
While she stirred in the cauldron, she saw images in the brew. Images of a gypsy girl and a silverhaired old man, of a beautiful Indian woman, a blonde man and a lion. The woman's lips curled in an evil smile when she saw the images. She had plans to involve herself in the lives of all these individuals, but what results it would bring was yet uncertain.
As the brew cooled, she petted the black raven on her shoulder, speaking to him with a soft voice. "We will start with the gypsy first, my little one. I can sense she has lost her mother early in life, and the poor child wonders who she is. Should we not lend a hand to help? But how to reach her? Gypsies can't read... I know, we send her a messenger! She will believe in the message if it is brought to her by an old friend, don't you think? I will have to change my appearance for a while, to appear more trustworthy, but then... then they will all fall for my schemes. One by one I will bring them offers they can not refuse... until they all are controlled by me...."
Her evil laughter echoed through the room, and the raven watched in silence as the woman drank the potion she had mixed. Her appearance changed, she shrunk a bit until she looked like an old gypsy woman with silver hair, emerald eyes and the sadness of the world in her eyes. "The change is done," she told the raven. "Now we only need to wait for the storm I sent to the great oceans. If it goes as planned, the storm will drive the Indian here, just like I planned...."
Near the ocean dark storm clouds appeared on the sky. The waves grew large as houses, throwing the boats from wave to wave until they hit the rock. The people in the villages went inside their houses and watched the storm in fear. Never before had it been as fierce as today. What would the storm bring? Only the gods would know...