The Dark Corner

Niamh: You’re not prepared for what’s behind this door.  

Meabh: Will I be cursed if I open it? 

Niamh: I tried to warn you.  

Meabh: You’re making me nervous.  

Niamh: I shouldn’t have brought you here.  

Meabh: I think I can handle your teenage bedroom, Niamh.  

Niamh: I’m so embarrassed. I should have redecorated years ago. I never thought I’d bring someone home, not in this house.  

Meabh: Babe, I’m after meeting your mother. With all her crystals and smelly sticks. A throwback to the 2010s is not the strangest experience I’ve had tonight.  

Niamh: Please don’t laugh.  

Meabh: Laugh at what? Sure, who didn’t have a bit of Demi Lovato on their walls.  

Gestures opening a door.  

Meabh: Or One Direction?  

Niamh: Yeah. I hadn’t even come out to myself yet.  

Meabh: No bigger lesbian than Harry Styles I suppose.  

Niamh: You can put your stuff wherever.  

Meabh: You didn’t miss an inch. It’s like One Direction Wallpaper. How could you cope with all these eyes looking at you?  

Niamh: Well, I was convinced I going to marry one of them.  

Meabh: And I’m guessing you were also Team Edward? 

Niamh: They were good books!  

Meabh: Where did you get all the posters from? 

Niamh: Magazines mostly. It’s where I got all my info on what I was supposed to be into as a teenager. 

Meabh: The size of that dream catcher. What kind of nightmares were you having? Laughing 

Niamh: I asked for you not to laugh.  

Meabh: Alright, I’m sorry. But this zebra print duvet- 

Niamh: Meabh! 

Meabh: I’m messing, I’m messing. Let me get under the covers and you can come into me. It’s as cold in here as it is outside.  

Niamh: Old country house.  

Meabh: We’ll have a white Christmas tomorrow. 

Niamh: Or just a very hard frost.  

Meabh: I love when the ground sparkles with the ice. Like a million diamonds.  

Niamh: It’s not a great time of the year to bury people. The ground is too hard to dig. 

Meabh: Christmas Eve and you’re taking about burying people.  

Niamh: I’m sorry. I forgot Christmas Eve is meant to be special too. I suppose I think about how nature affects people. I wouldn’t like to be sleeping out tonight.  

Meabh: That’s why I’m going to rob all your heat. And put my icy feet on your legs. 

Niamh: No, please. Get away.   

Meabh: You’re lucky it’s too cold to take off my socks.  

Niamh: I’m sorry it’s not as warm as what you’re used to.  

Meabh: Ah it’s not as mouldy as what I’m used to. They say heat rises but you’d think living over a kebab shop, I’d have some sort of tropical climate in the gaff. Mould and damp is what that place brings me.  

Niamh: That’s the one advantage when you live by 5000-year-old tombs. Your neighbours are sheep and owls. 

Meabh: 5000-year-old tombs? That’s fairly impressive. You’ll have to show me.  

Niamh: They are up on top of the hill. 

Meabh: A hill? That means climbing. Actually, I’m good for now.  

Niamh: They say they were built by The Cailleach. She’s like a witch, I suppose. She dropped stones from her apron as she jumped from hill to hill, and that’s the cairns that are up there. Sliabh na Caillí-the hill of the Cailleach. Supposedly she tripped on the last hill and died, and that’s why that cairn is all spread out. But I don’t believe that an ancient deity would die so easily.  

Meabh: It’s spooky, I won’t lie.  

Niamh: Mam has always been about being close to nature and the stories of nature. Sometimes it feels as if this place came up out of the soil itself. I’m already looking forward to being back in Dublin. Down here, it’s-it’s a different world. 

Meabh: I knew I was getting into something special coming down to ya for Christmas. All I’m missing is Mr Tubs. You know it’ll be my first Christmas without him. I hope he’s all right. I seen people online have cameras in their homes to check in on their cats. But I think I’d be paranoid. I’d never be not looking at it.  

Niamh: I really do appreciate that it was hard to leave him. But with mam’s allergies, the place would be more chaotic than usual. And he’s got plenty of food and water, and it’s only for a few days.  

Meabh: Fat bastard will have all that food gone by now. He’ll make himself sick and then he’ll eat that… That’s the irony in calling him Mr Tubs. Cause, I told you before didn’t I, when I found him outside the laundry on the quays, he looked like he needed a few spins in the washing machine. He’s a bit rough around the edges but he’s loyal.  

Niamh: Like you I suppose? 

Meabh: Is that a compliment or? 

Niamh: I just want you to be happy that ya came here. Not to regret it. 

Meabh: How would I regret this? It’s our first Christmas together. 

Niamh: I told you before we do Christmas differently. 

Meabh: I know. Baby Jesus isn’t your thing. God, me nanny’d kill me if she knew I wasn’t getting the Holy straw on Christmas eve.  

Niamh: It’s not only that. I just-. We celebrate the winter and all that’s comes with it. The nature-I need you to be open minded.  

Meabh: You’re not one of these families that jumps in the ocean Christmas day? 

Niamh: No. No. Mam calls it “celebrating” but it’s never felt like that. We’d make altars and light bonfires, but it always felt like we were trying to ward off something. Winter is death. It’s cold, it’s dark, nothing grows, I’m afraid of it. Christmas distracts from it all. And I liked that. I like that. I like the lights and the mulled wine and silly music. But I didn’t know that’s what you are meant to do. What most people do. Not until I went to college really. In school, there was a Christmas tree and sometimes a kris kindle, but because we, this family, didn’t do that, it didn’t mean much to me. Santa never visited this house.  

Meabh: I’m sorry that your child self didn’t have that. But I’m here now.  When you told me you had to go home for Christmas, I knew whatever was here, wasn’t great. I wanted this year to be different for ya. A bit of fun. A bit a magic, like a bright light in the dark and, not to come across as sounding too brilliant, but I feel like I’m a fairly bright light.  

Niamh laughs.  

Meabh: This feels like a really good time to give you, my present.  

Niamh: Ah no. You didn’t- 

Meabh: You can stop acting as if I wouldn’t get ya a present. We’ve been together long enough.  

Niamh: Just being polite. 

Meabh: Now, I realised that, for your birthday,  buying you that coffee machine-  

Niamh: -When I don’t drink coffee- 

Meabh: Yeah, was bad on my part. I wasn’t paying enough attention to your actual interests. Though that coffee machine has changed my life. This time, I really put thought into what I was getting you. Now, the box is small- 

Niamh: -Dainty.  

Meabh: -Dainty, I like that. But what’s inside, is something I think you’ll really like. No techy shit. Nothing flashy. Dainty. 

Niamh opens the box. 

Niamh: Genuine awe. Oh wow.  

Meabh: You like it?  

Niamh: You really were paying attention.  

Meabh: You said your ma was into all this neo pagan stuff. That you were brought up like that. And I didn’t really know what that meant, and I didn’t want to get something from the wrong culture, or something offensive, but when I saw that- Something inside me said Niamh’d love that.  

Niamh: A pentagram necklace. So many people think this is satanic but that’s only when it’s inverted. This is the direction it needs to be in for protection. For the elements to balance. To ward off bad energy.  This means a lot right now. I love it. Thank you. 

Meabh: It’s also a symbol of feminine energy I was told. Goddesses. I’m including lesbians in that category.  

Niamh: I also have something for you.  

Meabh: Ah stop. What? Ya got me a Christmas present for Christmas. I didn’t see that coming. 

Niamh: It’s in my suitcase. I had to bring it down from Dublin.  

Meabh: Oh, it’s bigger than mine. Feel a bit intimidated here. Fans herself. Should I be worried?  

Niamh: Remember when I asked you to have an open mind? This is a good time for that.  

Meabh: I’m about to learn something about you, amn’t I? 

Niamh: Yeah.  

Beat. 

Meabh: Do you want me to come over to you? Why are you standing with it all the way over there? Are you alright? Niamh, are you crying? What’s wrong with ya? 

Niamh: I did this because I love you. I need you to understand that.  

Meabh: Okay. Beat. I love you too. Beat. I have no idea what to expect now.  

Niamh: I had to do this. You can open it.  

Beat. 

Meabh: Niamh. What? The fuck? Am I looking at? Is this Mr. Tubs? 

Niamh: Yes.  

Meabh: Is he dead? 

Niamh: Yes 

Meabh: Why is my cat here?  

Niamh: You needed to make an offering.  

Meabh: An offering?  

Niamh: The Cailleach needs an offering. She can be very cruel. It has to be something living. She is winter. Decay. She wilts life. It was quick I promise. He didn’t feel any pain.  

Meabh: You fucking killed my cat for your made-up pagan bullshit. Fuck! Mr Tubs. My baby. My little baba.  

Niamh: I had to do it Meabh. Otherwise, she would have come for you. And it’s not as easy to restore people.  

Meabh: Fuck this. Fuck you. Mr Tubs. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. 

Niamh: She can bring back Mr Tubs. She preserves the land in winter so life can return. Mr Tubs isn’t dead. 

Meabh: He is fucking dead! You killed him 

Niamh: He’s part of nature. Like soil in winter. He’s not dead. He’s preserved. Waiting.  

Meabh: Waiting?  

Niamh: For the Cailleach. For the Cailleach to bring life back to him.  

Meabh: Get away from me.  

Niamh: Where are you going to go? It’s freezing out there.  

Meabh: I don’t care. Fuck you. What is actually going on? Is this really Mr Tubs in my arms? 

Niamh: Why do you think there are more storms? Why is the winter getting worse every year? It’s her. You can see her everywhere when you really look. She crawls under low lying mist on the morning grass. She’s perched with the crows cawing ion the trees. She’s that tightening feeling around your throat, when you step into the cold nights, and sense as though you are being watched.  

Meabh: I don’t believe in this! 

Niamh: That won’t protect you from her! At this time of the year, my mother and I, we’ve tried to leave many types of offerings, that would compensate for those who do not worship her. A living offering always works best, because it is a respect of her power. And she can be very good when you leave animals to her, because she does protect them, she doesn’t want harm to come to them. Mr Tubs, and how much you love him, it’s the greatest offering you could have given her.  

Meabh: But harm did come to him. You brought it to him.  

Niamh: And that’s why she will give him back to you. If she accepts the offering.  

Meabh: If she accepts? 

Niamh: She’ll leave a sign. And when she does, we leave Mr Tubs, at the highest point over night, and he will be alive by morning.  

Meabh: You’re mad. You know that? You need serious help. Your mother has fucked you up so much that you believe this is ok. You’d believe that I’d be grand with this? 

Niamh: She would have come for you.  

Meabh: Why? Is that a threat? Were you going to kill me too? 

Niamh: No. I love you. Beat. Because no one remembers her, she wants to force our ancestral memory of her from within us. There’s a reason we get sad and lonely in winter, because we cannot remember. You’re told to go outside in winter, get sunlight, to connect with nature, and she is nature, she is winter, and when we do not remember… she comes for us. In the wind. In the rain. In the snow. In the ice. And with that, she can take as many offerings of human lives as she wishes.  

Meabh: So, she’d have killed me because you worship her. I’d have been your offering, to save fucking randomers. I can’t stay. I’m not staying.  

Niamh: Meabh, wait, please.  

Meabh: Don’t even try talk to me ever again. I never want to hear from you. Never want to see you. Ever again. You and your witchy bullshit can fuck right off.  

Niamh suddenly reaches out and grabs Meabh’s arm as Meabh opens the door.  

Niamh: Meabh, look! It’s the sign.   

Meabh: It’s a pile of rocks in your hall.  

Niamh: It’s a cairn. She built a cairn, a tomb. That wasn’t there when we first came in. She’s accepted the offering.  

Meabh: No, your ma is after building that outside the door while we’re here.  

Niamh: No. Meabh. Please. Please listen to me. I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t care about you so much. We should go to the highest point, up on Sliabh na Caillí, build a cairn over Mr Tubs and by morning, he will resurrect. It will be Spring. He is only in winter now. Asleep.  

Meabh: He’s dead.  

Niamh: What are you going to do instead? Walk back to the main road? An hour’s walk, easy. Try hitch a lift? Christmas Eve, no buses are running. No one is picking up strangers from the side of the road with a seemingly dead cat in their arms. You’ll probably pass out from the cold on the way there, die yourself even. Or you could come with me and mam and we could get Mr Tubs back. After sunrise tomorrow, if you still want to, you can cut all ties with me, but something tells me, if you see Mr Tubs alive Christmas morning, you’ll understand why I did this.   

Meabh silently shakes her head. Conflicted. Emotional.  

Niamh: The Cailleach needs death to bring life. The wilt of winter feeds the growth of Spring. It’s a cycle. An offering to the goddess. Beat. Pleading but firm. Let me show you the power of a goddess.  

Sarah McKenna Dunne is an award-winning writer, storyteller, and arts facilitator whose work spans theatre, film, and socially engaged arts. Recognized with multiple Arts Council Agility Awards and Creative Ireland Awards, she crafts compelling narratives exploring Irish folklore, queer identity, and the societal trauma endured by children. The Girls of the Sacred Heart (Culture Night 2024) dramatizes the Cavan orphanage fire through a tribunal play, while Grief of the Seventh Child (Creative Cavan 2023/24) uncovers the fading traditions of folk healing. A UCD M.A. graduate in Theatre Practice, Sarah champions storytelling as a force for empathy and social change.