The Shadowkeeper **Feature Screenplay**

Scene 7 and 8 A Room of her own

Sc. 7 INTERNAL - HALLWAY - FARMHOUSE - DAY 

Brigid enters through the backdoor, carrying a small basket full of eggs. Her designer clothes are stuck with hay and the odd chicken feather. She steps out of a pair of old wellington boots and heads down the hall. 

JULIA (Off Screen) You're rewarding her behavior. 

Brigid slows to listen. The voices float down from a trap door in the roof. A set of attic steps are lowered at the other end of the hallway. 

DEIRDRE (O.S.): Her behavior's normal, Jules. She's acting out. She's lost her father and you don't want her around. 

There is a long, grudging silence. Brigid bites her lip and reaches for her pendant, sighing as she finds it missing. 

JOHN (O.S.): Anyway, they had their own rooms at home and they are a little old to be sharing. It will give her something to do. 

Brigid's face brightens a little. 

JULIA (O.S.): Oh, alright. Whatever. I've got to get back to my painting anyway. 

DEIRDRE (O.S.): It might be best if you send her up - so she knows it's okay with you. 

Footsteps approach the trapdoor and Brigid ducks sideways into the kitchen. Julia descends the steps and glances into the kitchen as she passes. 

JULIA: Hi Bridge. Come here, would you? 

Brigid wanders out and looks up expectantly but says nothing. Julia is stiff and nervous. 

JULIA: Your Uncle John has a surprise for you. In the attic. 

BRIGID: Oh. Okay. 

Julia begins to reach out to hug her daughter but her eyes glaze over and she pats Brigid's shoulder instead and hurries off down the hallway. 

Brigid composes herself and heads toward the steps. 

Sc. 8 INT - ATTIC - FARMHOUSE - DAY 

The attic is dusty and filled with the flotsam of several generations. Deirdre, John and Brigid stand under the bare light globe hanging from the highest point in the sloping roof. 

JOHN: It'll take a while. We'll have to clear all this stuff out and I'll have to insulate the roof before the cold really sets in. 

Deirdre squeezes Brigid to her side. 

DEIRDRE: What do you say? Do you want it? 

Brigid smiles happily. 

BRIGID: Yes. Thank you. 

John slaps his hands together vigorously. 

JOHN: Alright then! I'm going to go get my manly toolbox and start some manly measuring up! 

Deirdre laughs and John gives her a peck on the cheek before bending almost double under the sloping roof to reach the trap door. 

DEIRDRE: Well, I guess we should get started by working out what's junk and what's not. Anything you want to keep for yourself just let me know. 

BRIGID: Um... Okay. 

Deirdre begins to bustle about, attacking the contents of a large, decrepit box. Brigid looks around aimlessly and her eyes fall on a stack of old canvasses of various sizes, their colorful but darkening paint cracking. 

BRIGID: Whose are these? 

Deirdre glances over her shoulder briefly. 

DEIRDRE: Mostly your mother's. 

Brigid levers through the canvasses till one catches her interest. It is a forest scene, white birch trunks contrasted against deep emerald greens. The whole scene sparkles as though it is raining. Brigid heaves it from the stack and sees another similar one behind it. She sets the first down and reaches in for the next one. 

DEIRDRE: What have you found there, sweetie? 

Deirdre dusts off her hands and helps Brigid to pull the second painting out. She smiles fondly as she gazes at it for a moment. 

BRIGID: They don't look like Mom's. 

DEIRDRE: No, these are Dad's - your Grandpa's. 

BRIGID: I didn't know he painted. 

DEIRDRE: Where do you think your Mom gets it from? 

Deirdre props the painting up against the other canvasses and sits down in front of it, patting the floor next to her, sending up puffs of dust. Brigid sits down next to her. 

DEIRDRE: When Dad was a little boy he was sick with Scarlet Fever and after he recovered he had dreams of this place. Your great-grandmother said it was the Shadow Realm. 

BRIGID: That's where you said Daddy was, when he couldn't talk to us or recognize us anymore. 

Deirdre nods. 

DEIRDRE: Our granny taught us that the Shadow Realm is where all souls go if their body is very very sick and needs to try to heal itself. 

BRIGID: Is it always raining there? 

DEIRDRE: No, no, that's not rain. That was Dad's strongest memory: in the Shadow Realm every living thing sparkles like that - the trees and the plants and even the earth. 

BRIGID: And the Shadowkeeper takes your soul there if you make it angry? 

DEIRDRE: The Shadowkeeper? Oh: Shadow Realm - Shadowkeeper. You know I'd never connected them. 

Tears well in Brigid's eyes and her lips begin to tremble as she speaks. 

BRIGID: 'Cause, just before Daddy got sick we all went to the mountains and there was a spring and we all had a drink but we didn't leave anything so I thought maybe the Shadowkeep-

Deirdre throws her arms around the little girl. 

DEIRDRE: Oh, sweetie, sweetie, sweetie - no! David was sick for a long time before we knew he was. Nothing - NOTHING you did made your Daddy sick. Okay? 

Brigid nods stiffly. 

DEIRDRE: And there was nothing you could have done to make him better. You hear me? 

Brigid wipes at her eyes angrily, leaving dust smudges on her cheeks. 

BRIGID: I know. 

DEIRDRE: I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you with silly stories. 

BRIGID: But... it was true? 

Brigid frowns and pulls away to look her Aunt in the eye. 

BRIGID: Daddy wasn't in pain because he was in the Shadow Realm. That was true? 

Deirdre sighs and takes the little girl's hands in hers. 

DEIRDRE: You know what? I hope so - and I believe that - but the truth is, we can't REALLY know. All we can do is listen to the stories people tell us and see what our hearts believe. Does that make sense? 

Brigid shrugs. 

DEIRDRE: And I believe that your Daddy is in a good place and just wants you to be happy. Okay? 

Brigid nods. 

DEIRDRE: Come on, I'm hungry. Let's do this later. Why don't you go and get the boys from the river while I make lunch. 

BRIGID: Okay. I'll just be a minute. 

Deirdre hoists herself from the floor and disappears through the trapdoor. 

Brigid scans the straight walls and spots a nail by the window. She stands, picks up the first painting and hangs it carefully. She steps back to admire her handiwork, gives her new room a contented smile and heads for the trapdoor.