Welcome to Scribd, the world's digital library. Read, publish, and share books and documents. See more
Download
Standard view
Full view
of .
Save to My Library
Look up keyword
Like this
2Activity
0 of .
Results for:
No results containing your search query
P. 1
Story of Brian O'Branahan Shared by Terrence Gargiulo

Story of Brian O'Branahan Shared by Terrence Gargiulo

Ratings: (0)|Views: 1,060|Likes:
Published by Terrence Gargiulo
This is the story of Brain O'Branahan. In 1992 Professor Luis Ygelsias and I analzyed this story to develop a framework for organizational storytelling. See summary chart on Scribd titled, Nine Functions of Stories.
This is the story of Brain O'Branahan. In 1992 Professor Luis Ygelsias and I analzyed this story to develop a framework for organizational storytelling. See summary chart on Scribd titled, Nine Functions of Stories.

More info:

Categories:Business/Law
Published by: Terrence Gargiulo on Mar 13, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

Availability:

Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
See more
See less

05/10/2014

pdf

text

original

 
BRIAN
 
O’BRANAHAN
 
“The
 
Man
 
with
 
No
 
Story”
 
Shared
 
by
 
Terrence
 
Gargiulo,
 
President,
 
MAKINGSTORIES.net
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
was
 
a
 
basket
 
weaver.
 
He
 
would
 
cut
 
rushes,
 
make
 
them
 
into
 
baskets,
 
and
 
sell
 
them
 
in
 
the
 
nearby
 
towns.
 
After
 
some
 
time,
 
there
 
were
 
no
 
rushes
 
left.
 
He
 
knew
 
of 
 
a
 
glen
 
far
 
away
 
where
 
fine
 
rushes
 
were
 
reputed
 
to
 
grow.
 
But
 
it
 
was
 
a
 
fairy
 
glen
 
and
 
nobody
 
dared
 
go
 
there.
 
However,
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan's
 
money
 
had
 
run
 
out,
 
and
 
he
 
was
 
desperate,
 
so
 
he
 
decided
 
to
 
take
 
a
 
risk.
 
With
 
his
 
knife,
 
a
 
rope,
 
and
 
the
 
lunch
 
his
 
wife
 
packed
 
for
 
him,
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
set
 
out
 
for
 
the
 
glen.
 
He
 
had
 
cut
 
two
 
fine
 
bundles
 
and
 
tied
 
them
 
together
 
when
 
a
 
thick
 
mist
 
began
 
to
 
form
 
around
 
him.
 
Thinking
 
the
 
fog
 
would
 
clear
 
soon,
 
he
 
decided
 
to
 
sit
 
down
 
and
 
eat
 
his
 
lunch.
 
By
 
the
 
time
 
he
 
had
 
finished
 
eating,
 
he
 
could
 
not
 
even
 
see
 
his
 
hands.
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
became
 
disoriented.
 
He
 
stood
 
up
 
and
 
looked
 
to
 
the
 
east
 
and
 
looked
 
to
 
the
 
west.
 
Off 
 
in
 
the
 
distance
 
he
 
saw
 
a
 
light
 
and
 
he
 
thought,
 
"Where
 
there
 
is
 
light
 
there's
 
bound
 
to
 
be
 
people."
 
So
 
he
 
set
 
out
 
for
 
the
 
light
 
and
 
eventually
 
came
 
upon
 
a
 
farmhouse
 
with
 
the
 
door
 
standing
 
open.
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
entered
 
and
 
found
 
an
 
old
 
man
 
and
 
woman
 
sitting
 
by
 
a
 
fire.
 
"Come
 
in
 
and
 
get
 
warm,"
 
they
 
said.
 
And
 
then
 
after
 
exchanging
 
some
 
pleasantries,
 
the
 
old
 
man
 
asked
 
him
 
to
 
tell
 
a
 
story.
 
"I
 
can't,"
 
said
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
"I've
 
never
 
told
 
a
 
story."
 
The
 
woman
 
turned
 
to
 
him
 
and
 
said,
 
"Then
 
go
 
down
 
to
 
the
 
well
 
and
 
bring
 
us
 
a
 
bucket
 
of 
 
water
 
for
 
your
 
keep."
 
"I'd
 
be
 
happy
 
to,
 
as
 
long
 
as
 
I
 
don't
 
have
 
to
 
tell
 
a
 
story,"
 
replied
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
went
 
down
 
to
 
the
 
well
 
and
 
filled
 
the
 
bucket.
 
He
 
set
 
the
 
bucket
 
down
 
for
 
a
 
moment
 
so
 
that
 
the
 
outside
 
of 
 
it
 
could
 
dry
 
before
 
he
 
brought
 
it
 
in.
 
Suddenly,
 
the
 
wind
 
roared
 
and
 
swept
 
him
 
high
 
into
 
the
 
sky.
 
It
 
blew
 
him
 
to
 
the
 
east,
 
and
 
it
 
blew
 
him
 
to
 
the
 
west.
 
When
 
he
 
fell
 
back
 
to
 
Earth,
 
there
 
was
 
no
 
bucket,
 
and
 
no
 
well,
 
and
 
no
 
farmhouse.
 
But
 
again,
 
off 
 
in
 
the
 
distance,
 
he
 
saw
 
a
 
light
 
and
 
he
 
thought,
 
"Where
 
there
 
is
 
light
 
there's
 
bound
 
to
 
be
 
people."
 
So
 
he
 
set
 
out
 
for
 
the
 
light,
 
and
 
after
 
some
 
time,
 
he
 
found
 
that
 
it
 
came
 
from
 
a
 
farmhouse
 
far
 
bigger
 
than
 
the
 
first,
 
with
 
lights
 
shining
 
out
 
of 
 
the
 
door.
 
When
 
he
 
entered,
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
saw
 
that
 
he
 
had
 
come
 
to
 
a
 
wake
house.
 
There
 
were
 
two
 
rows
 
of 
 
men
 
sitting
 
by
 
the
 
back
 
wall,
 
and
 
a
 
girl
 
with
 
black
 
curly
 
hair
 
sat
 
by
 
the
 
fire.
 
She
 
welcomed
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
and
 
asked
 
him
 
to
 
sit
 
beside
 
her.
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
had
 
barely
 
sat
 
down
 
when
 
a
 
big
 
man
 
stood
 
up.
 
"It's
 
not
 
a
 
real
 
wake
 
without
 
a
 
fiddler.
 
I'll
 
go
 
get
 
one
 
so
 
that
 
we
 
can
 
start
 
dancing."
 
 
"Don't
 
go,"
 
said
 
the
 
girl
 
with
 
black
 
curly
 
hair.
 
"The
 
best
 
fiddler
 
in
 
Ireland
 
is
 
here."
 
And
 
she
 
looked
 
straight
 
at
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
"Oh,
 
no,"
 
said
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
"I
 
can't
 
play
 
a
 
tune
 
on
 
a
 
fiddle.
 
I've
 
got
 
no
 
music
 
in
 
my
 
head."
 
"Sure
 
you
 
can,"
 
insisted
 
the
 
girl
 
with
 
black
 
curly
 
hair,
 
and
 
she
 
pushed
 
a
 
fiddle
 
and
 
bow
 
into
 
his
 
hand
 
and
 
he
 
played
 
away.
 
And
 
everyone
 
agreed
 
they
 
had
 
never
 
heard
 
a
 
better
 
fiddler
 
than
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
They
 
danced
 
and
 
danced
 
until
 
the
 
big
 
man
 
said
 
that
 
was
 
enough.
 
"We
 
must
 
go
 
get
 
a
 
priest
 
to
 
say
 
Mass.
 
This
 
corpse
 
must
 
leave
 
before
 
daybreak."
 
"There's
 
no
 
need,"
 
said
 
the
 
girl
 
with
 
black
 
curly
 
hair.
 
"The
 
best
 
priest
 
in
 
Ireland
 
is
 
sitting
 
right
 
here."
 
And
 
again
 
she
 
looked
 
straight
 
at
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
"Oh
 
no,"
 
said
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
"I'm
 
no
 
priest.
 
I
 
know
 
nothing
 
about
 
a
 
priest's
 
work."
 
"Sure
 
you
 
do,"
 
she
 
said.
 
"You
 
will
 
do
 
it
 
just
 
as
 
well
 
as
 
you
 
did
 
the
 
fiddling."
 
So
 
before
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
knew
 
it,
 
he
 
was
 
standing
 
at
 
the
 
altar
 
saying
 
Mass.
 
And
 
they
 
all
 
said
 
that
 
they'd
 
never
 
heard
 
any
 
priest
 
say
 
a
 
better
 
Mass
 
than
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
Then
 
the
 
corpse
 
was
 
put
 
in
 
the
 
coffin,
 
and
 
four
 
men
 
took
 
it
 
on
 
their
 
shoulders.
 
Three
 
were
 
short
 
and
 
one
 
was
 
tall,
 
and
 
the
 
coffin
 
wobbled
 
terribly.
 
"We'll
 
have
 
to
 
go
 
get
 
a
 
doctor
 
to
 
cut
 
a
 
piece
 
off 
 
the
 
leg
 
of 
 
that
 
big
 
man
 
to
 
make
 
him
 
the
 
same
 
length
 
as
 
the
 
others,"
 
said
 
one
 
of 
 
the
 
men.
 
"Stay
 
here,"
 
said
 
the
 
girl
 
with
 
black
 
curly
 
hair.
 
"The
 
best
 
doctor
 
in
 
all
 
of 
 
Ireland
 
is
 
here
 
among
 
us."
 
And
 
again
 
she
 
looked
 
straight
 
at
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
"Oh
 
no,"
 
said
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
"I've
 
never
 
done
 
any
 
doctoring.
 
I
 
couldn't
 
possibly
 
do
 
it."
 
"Sure
 
you
 
can,"
 
she
 
said.
 
And
 
she
 
thrust
 
a
 
scalpel
 
into
 
his
 
hand.
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
cut
 
a
 
piece
 
out
 
of 
 
each
 
of 
 
the
 
big
 
man's
 
legs,
 
under
 
his
 
knees,
 
and
 
stuck
 
the
 
legs
 
back
 
on
 
and
 
made
 
him
 
the
 
same
 
height
 
as
 
the
 
other
 
three.
 
Everyone
 
marveled
 
at
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan's
 
doctoring
 
skills
 
and
 
all
 
agreed
 
they
 
had
 
never
 
seen
 
a
 
better
 
doctor
 
in
 
all
 
of 
 
Ireland.
 
They
 
picked
 
up
 
the
 
coffin
 
and
 
walked
 
carefully
 
to
 
the
 
graveyard.
 
There
 
was
 
a
 
big
 
stone
 
wall
 
around
 
the
 
graveyard,
 
ten
 
feet
 
high
 
or
 
maybe
 
twelve.
 
They
 
all
 
climbed
 
the
 
wall
 
to
 
the
 
graveyard
 
on
 
the
 
other
 
side.
 
The
 
last
 
man
 
on
 
top
 
of 
 
the
 
wall
 
was
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan.
 
But
 
a
 
big
 
blast
 
of 
 
wind
 
swept
 
him
 
into
 
the
 
sky.
 
It
 
blew
 
him
 
to
 
the
 
east
 
and
 
it
 
blew
 
him
 
to
 
the
 
west.
 
When
 
he
 
fell
 
back
 
to
 
Earth
 
there
 
was
 
no
 
graveyard,
 
or
 
wall,
 
or
 
coffin,
 
or
 
funeral.
 
He
 
had
 
fallen
 
by
 
the
 
well
 
where
 
he
 
had
 
gone
 
to
 
fetch
 
some
 
water.
 
The
 
water
 
had
 
not
 
even
 
dried
 
off 
 
the
 
bucket.
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan
 
took
 
the
 
bucket
 
into
 
the
 
house.
 
The
 
old
 
man
 
and
 
woman
 
were
 
there
 
just
 
as
 
he
 
had
 
left
 
them.
 
He
 
put
 
the
 
bucket
 
down
 
beside
 
them.
 
"Now,
 
Brian
 
O’Branahan,"
 
said
 
the
 
old
 
man,
 
"can
 
you
 
tell
 
us
 
a
 
story?"
 

Activity (2)

You've already reviewed this. Edit your review.
1 thousand reads
1 hundred reads

You're Reading a Free Preview

Download
/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->