Alexandria: A Macbeth Adaptation

Scene 1: A Desert Place

“Aaaarrgghhh!” Michonne cried out as a walker, their nick name for zombies, flung itself onto the stumbled woman. “Rick! Eergh…Help!” She continued, struggling under the weight of the falling corpse.

Rick turned around, his pale blue eyes reflecting the scene before him, and sprang into action. He ran over, and jumped, to avoid the timid swipes of decayed bodies. Rick drew his knife and swung as though he knew exactly where to aim, which he did, he was experienced and had learnt about the week point being the brain, so remove the head and remove the threat. That is what he did. Michonne stood up and caught her breath.

“…Thanks, that was close.”

“I think that’s all of them, wow, to think these were once people, just like us. It’s like our battle was won, whilst theirs was lost.” Rick thought aloud.

“Fair is foul and foul is fair, what appears good to us, can be bad for others.” Michonne responded.

“And what a fair and foul day I have not seen.” Rick added. “Come on. Let’s get back to the group; I heard they have found a new place, a good place.”

“Wait! Look!” The woman cried out looking towards a tree where a dark figure quickly pulled away.

“Stop! Come back!” Rick started to run after him but stopped when he approached the tree. There was an open field, completely bare, and no one could be seen, the person had vanished.

Rick turned around to see a startled Michonne whose neck was encroached by a broad arm that clutched a knife held against her throat. The arm was attached to a man who wore a red poncho that covered the majority of his body.

“Hail, to whose eminence rains over the disciples.” The man began. “Hail to whose grace has served thee wisely as to become an officer of sorts.”

Rick shifted in his place, his hand gripped tighter over the hilt of his knife.

“Hail to whom that will bear the crown of Alexandria.” The stranger finished.

Michonne acted now, while the man was distracted with Rick. She grabbed his arm and twisted it until the blade dropped, then she quickly unfurled herself and sprinted over to rick.

“What the hell is this?!” She shouted. “Who are you and what do you want?”

The mystery man cackled. “I am but a prophesier of sorts. Some have laid uncertain eyes and claimed me by many names; they call me crazy, mad …witch. I see now, you hear such sweat thoughts of your companion and wonder what is to be of you…”

“What?” Michonne glared intently hiding her curiosity with an expression of anger. “I don’t need to hear this, Rick, let’s go.”

“Wait! Wait woman lesser than your partner, yet greater. You are sad, yet much happier. You shall bare leaders of your own, but never have the fortune to be one yourself.” The man in the red poncho predicted.

Rick turned to Michonne, who looked at him with an expression of disbelief.

“What do you