Aine King

Áine King studied at St Martins School Of Art, Brighton University, The University Of Sussex and RADA. She was artistic director of Lipservice Theatre 1999-2004. In 2007 she was one of six invited directors for the Old Vic 24 Hour Plays, Brighton.

Áine was an associate director for Otherplace Productions from 2008-13, adapting and directing Nick Burbridge’s Hard Chair Stories at The Rose Theatre (Shakespeare’s Globe) London, and Edward Bond’s anti-war play Tuesday, which Bond admired and described as, “Very,very interesting…pushing the play into 2010, in a good way.”

Dracula in 2010 won a Fringe Report award for Best Auteur; script, design and direction.

Áine now lives in Orkney, where she has scripted and directed Tom Muir’s folk stories, Trowie Tales for the Orkney Childrens Theatre Company.

Her short story The Handfast Bride was published in the anthology These Spooky Isles 2018.

Her recent monologue dramas have been performed at the Southwark Playhouse, Rum Diaries Glasgow and for National Theatre of Scotland.



Hard Chair Stories (dramatist / director) Otherplace Productions 2008

Dracula (dramatist / director) Otherplace Productions 2011

Trowie Tales (dramatist / director) O.T.C Co 2017

Finding John Rae (stage adaptation) 2018

Father (writer) #MeToo Kings Cross, London 2018

Wicked (writer) You Are Invited, Southwark Playhouse, London 2018

Flotsam (writer) Rum Diaries, Rum Shack Glasgow 2019

We, The People (co-writer) The Gathering, National Theatre Scotland 2019


The Handfast Bride (short story) These Spooky Isles 2018

Online writing, Poetry, Radio, Scripted reality, Short story, Theatre




I was expecting the nurse

Armload of shitty sheets

Heading downstairs


Didn’t even look

Just elbowed up the lock

‘come in’




He’s older

But he’s


And everything inside me goes cold water

And sick.

Its twenty years and he’s still here

And I’m still



He’s already



Undoing his coat

‘So you remember me, Sam.’

Like I’d ever forget

‘Good to see you home again’

And he squeezes my arm

Just a bit too hard

Pulling back a bit when he gets a whiff of shitty sheets…

‘She’s not conscious. They gave her m-m-m-morphine’

I’m stammering again

Like I used to

‘She’ll not know you…there’s no need...the nurse is coming’


Halfway up the stairs



On me

‘I promised your mother I’d be here at the end. Final Unction. God’s forgiveness. Sam. Now, you make us both a cup of tea. A drop of brandy in it if you have some. And come sit by me.’

(trying to control  breathing)

M-my m-m-m-mother

M-m-m-y mo-m-m-mother is dying

And I w-w-wanted to be with her

And I c-c-c-c-can’t

I c-c-c-cant….