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- Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Sprache: Englisch
A blackly comic vision of Dublin infested with demons. 'We go, see the slo-mo ebb and flow; the mill, the babble, the rabble of wobbling waywards, exiled and aimless, unlike us as, purposeful and double-file, like kids on a dare, we head who the fuck knows where?' Three people are ripped from their daily lives and catapulted into a fantastical world of singing serial killers, avenging angels and lovesick demons. Hold tight as the ordinary turns extraordinary in Mark O'Rowe's urban fantasy. Terminus was first performed at the Abbey Theatre Peacock, Dublin, in June 2007. The production transferred to the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, in August 2008 as part of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, where it was awarded a Fringe First.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
Mark O’Rowe
TERMINUS
NICK HERN BOOKS
London
www.nickhernbooks.co.uk
Contents
Title Page
Original Production
Dedication
Characters
Terminus
About the Author
Copyright and Performing Rights Information
Terminus was first performed at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin, on 9 June 2007, with the following cast:
A
Andrea Irvine
B
Eileen Walsh
C
Aidan Kelly
Director
Mark O’Rowe
Set Designer
Jon Bausor
Lighting Designer
Philip Gladwell
Sound Designer
Philip Stewart
The production was revived by the Abbey Theatre on tour from 30 September 2009, with the following changes to the cast:
B
Kate Brennan
C
Karl Shiels
For Aoife
Characters
A
female, forties
B
female, twenties
C
male, thirties
Lights up on A, B and C. Hold. Lights down on B and C.
A
‘This Samaritan shit’s the pits,’ I think, as I try to talk a guy from the brink of suicide; a gun implied at first, then at last admitted to. A bullet through the head his plan.
Now, I should be calm, it goes without saying; but instead I’m filled with distress as I stupidly ask his name, his address, then dread as I hear a shot, then not any more as I hear him say, ‘Got you, you gullible whore!’ and hang up with a snigger, the fucking fake!
I figure I’ll duck outside for a break, and do, have a suck on a cigarette and rue my volunteering for this, fearing I don’t have the sand, the grit, the bit of detachment required – Ah, shit – Sure, mired as I am in sympathy, you see, what possible help can I be to these loveless lost, what cost to them my hapless, helpless, hopeless best, my messed-up endeavours?
