Special delivery in black plastic bag
Today, on day 4 of 12 after Christmas I’ve decided to tell you a story.
This morning the doorbell went about half past nine. Being a.m. rather than p.m. I didn’t think it particularly out of the ordinary, but how wrong I was.
Our household includes 2 delightful dogs, who love us much and therefore see it as their role in life to repel the enemy in no uncertain terms; their ‘call to arms’ being the sound of the door-bell.
The Postman is well-used to a delayed response in opening of the front door. Once the doorbell is rung, on the other side of the door certain protocols have to be followed.
First, we must usher dogs into kitchen. Second, pursue whichever dog has temporarily dodged confinement (being hell-bent on out-performing the other’s heroic efforts to repel boarders), then catch and confine to kitchen. Finally, proceed pronto to open the front door to the patiently waiting Postman, who is probably well used to such scenarios in the course of his deliveries.
However, today’s 9.30 doorbell ring did not present the usual outcome, for instead of being greeted by smiling Postman clutching a ‘to be signed for package’ there was, instead, a rather ominous looking black plastic bag.
I deduced the package was unlikely to be a late Christmas present, by reason of the black plastic rather than some more obviously Christmas wrapping (Sherlock eat your heart out).
I peered up and down the street, but no delivery van, car, or sleigh were in sight.
What to do?
The black plastic bag was heavy, to the point that I needed to use both hands to lift it rather than one. The contents of the bag felt soft, heavy and strangely warm.
I began to experience anxious flutterings in my stomach. What was I was going to find inside the bag? I slowly started to peel apart the black plastic opening to peer into the dark depths.
A warmth of flesh and blood rose up to reach my face and nostrils. I recoiled.
(Aside) or pause from the action…
Now, if the story so far is having the same effect on you as the situation had on me this morning, you’re probably experiencing one of a range of emotions, depending on your sensibilities?
Walk along a little way with me now, before I reveal more of the story, because what I’d like you to do right now is just to take a minute to explore the processes of your imagination.
Having read so far, what images and story development ideas are beginning to flit through your imagination, concerning the ‘special delivery in black plastic bag’?
If your imagination is coming up with possible scenarios, then you have the beginning of your own story. My point is, we can all be story-tellers, it’s just that we lack confidence in how to start one and how to develop others.
I believe we’ve lost touch with a skill, rather than lost it altogether. The vast majority of us are too used to being told stories these days, most often on TV or in a film.
The Art of storytelling is as old as the hills and something that our ancestors would have been skilled at, not because they had more talent than us, rather there was no TV, film, video or internet taking up valuable story telling time!
Story telling is something I’m going to be talking increasingly about during the coming months, in relation to business blogging. So, hope you’ll stay in touch and come along with me on the journey.
But for now, as they say, back to the story…
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll continue…”
The heavy flesh-filled black bag had to be dealt with, however much my senses screamed leave it outside and close the door. Doing so just didn’t seem right.
I knew of course, what you don’t yet, re. what was actually in the black plastic bag. But being more ‘in the know’ than where you are at this moment didn’t stop an over-riding emotion of rising panic about the practicalities of dealing with the contents…a haunch of venison.
Now, a haunch of venison, for those of you unfamiliar with such terminology, is basically a back leg, with the size of leg varying with the species of deer. in this case the haunch was from a small Fallow deer, but it was still quite large!
We live in the country and dealing with fully furred or feathered meat comes as ‘part of the territory’. More usually such ‘gifts’ are handed over in person, rather than being left, seemingly anonymously, on the doorstep.
The well intended present was now to become my job, dealing with the meat so that it would fit into the freezer in useable size portions and minus its fur coat
I made several phone calls and help eventually arrived, with accompanying venison processing lesson. I am now a little wiser on butchery and have 10 packs of venison, of varying cuts and grades in the freezer.
Reason for the story ‘special delivery in black plastic bag’
If you’re wondering why I’ve shared this story with you? Well, it actually happened today for one thing. For another, I’ve been wanting to write a blog post featuring story telling, but hadn’t got a good story as a place to start, until the doorbell went this morning!
I also read a blog post a few days ago about learning to write stories from a 6 word starter, in this case the title of this blog post, ‘special delivery in black plastic bag’
Hope you found the journey of this story an interesting one, literally and emotionally and were not shocked, offended in any way, or put off eating meat for life!
Finally, if you have any good venison recipes, please share.
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