This is my first attempt at a WTF creepypasta, however, it's not my first pasta. The first is Banjo's Dream.
I had a normal life. HAD. I lived in a nice house, and went to a great school, however, I didnt have a father. Only my mom. I loved Valentine's day at school because I would give hugs and teddy bears to everyone. On Christmas Eve night, my mom would always read me my favorite poem. I also loved to draw, although I was never really good at it. I would hang my crude drawings everywhere, even outside sometimes. This was all well and good until my mother died when I was 8.
I was sent to an asylem where I spent the next 10 years. In this time, i grew to be very very tall. With all that had happened and being cramped uncomfortably, it made me very anti-social. I couldn't even muster the courage to give a lost wallet to someone, fearing they would reject me. No longer was I chipper.
When I was 18, I got dresses up in a nice suit and went off to a job interview. On the way there, I passes by a bank, which was being robbed. The robber took me as a hostage, and I was thrown into his truck. They gave me a divise that jamms all technology so the police couldn't track us. I was taken to an abondoned prison. The robbers got tiresom waiting for their boss, so they decided to take some anger out on me. The punched my face, every blow doing more and more damage. I was bleeding badly. When the boss arrived, he told the robbers knocked me out.
I awoke on a deserted street. They had forgotten the jamming devise. I walked around a bit, but I was tired and almost bleeding to death when I stubbled onto a gas pipe. It broke, spraying my already bleeding face with gas. I couldn't see the ledge or warning sign. I fell down to a polluted area. My arms somehow grew, and my face was cured of what had happened. No blood nor gasoline.
On my way back to the asylem, I passed my old house. I heard someone in the woods. My woods were known for being a possible habitat for Big Foots. The girl I found inside my woods had a camera and was searching for Big Foot. I wanted to help, but she kept running away. And my developed shy nature made it hard to talk to her. Now and again I vistit the places where these events happened. All the people in these areas are afraid of me.They call me the man.
I guess now Im acustomed to it. I am the man. I am, what they call, The Slenderman.
Written by Ozztastic57