Everything he ever told anyone in his life was a fiction. He had no idea who he was, or where he came from. As a child, he was shuttled around between five different orphanages. He was 'difficult', they said. He didn't play well with other children, was often depressed and absolutely fearless when it came to climbing in places people weren't supposed to climb. They accused him of trying to escape, but really he was just climbing because he loved being up high. He could be alone there with his thoughts and wondering...with his made up stories and rampant imagination, which no one else there seemed to possess. They confined him to his room for a month once and it was then he discoved books. He loved to read. When they finally let him out, they told him he was confined to the crafts room and couldn't go outside. It was then he discovered painting. Rather than painting on the paper like a good boy, he took to painting himself. "Such a beautiful child, you wouldn't know the little demon lurking inside," he would hear the nuns say of him. Of course, nuns would say that. He was finally adopted at the age of 10 by an older couple. They were well off and indulgent of his 'quirks' to some degree. They sent him to the proper schools, gave him dancing lessons, speech lessons, etiquette lessons, and so forth. They dressed him and fed him well, but they weren't particularly social or affectionate with him. It was all about being 'proper' and 'acceptable' in polite society. His adopted mother died when he was 18 and away at the university. She had succumbed to pneumonia and was never a healthy person. His adopted father passed two years later, leaving him the bulk of their estate. Brennan quit school, sold the house and came to America to begin his life all over again as 'someone else'...someone he wanted to be, that no one ever allowed him to be. He found it easy to shift roles and character, because that's what he'd been doing all his life...pretending to be someone he wasn't. He realized right off, he was going to have to establish himself an identity that was coherent and believable, as well as just a bit fascinating. That wasn't too hard. What was hard was that memory of rejection he'd always felt as a child. No matter how many stories he told or thought to tell, there was always an emptiness inside he couldn't fill. His first job was as a makeup artist in a salon in New York. His favorite canvas was still human skin, but tattoos were too permanent. Makeup, you could change, every day - even every hour, if you liked. At the salon, he got picked up by a modeling agency. He did small acting jobs when he could get them, but for the time being was more than happy to be a model. His looks and natural grace took him a long way, and he did very well for himself. It wasn't the be all/end all for him though. He wanted to do everything, even if it was just once, so he could know what it was like...so he could find out one day, who it was that lived within the dark void inside. ***** So, there's a little bit of Brennan's story and why he is like he is and does what he does. I heard from Matt that quite a few people went to the "In the Chime Hours" link. That's fantastic! I just wanted to say "Thank You!" to those who did, and I hope that you'll return when Part II is released! Sarah says she's 'having a blast writing' this, so I can only imagine what's cookin' for this next installment...because that means she's 'gettin' down in the cthonic ooze ' with it :) Thank you for stopping by dear friends and enjoy your Tuesday! Ray