Freaky Frank's Origin A new Creepypasta character

Franklin's change

You might remember him... The crazy kid, always a little off, not all there. But he was, all in all, a cool person. What made him who he was becoming, is mostly unknown till now. Resting in these pages you will find the story of Freaky Frank, his pain and his breaking point. That point defined his life making new friends, from the likes of Jeff the killer and Slenderman. Who would see him and take him in, not even knowing his real name! Like Hoodie himself but, in a way better because he made his crimes art. Painting that sharp-toothed smiley with blood. Laughing his crazed laugh muttering 'it's done... it's finally done'

It started all ten years ago when he was six, he heard of a death that actually concerned him. It was his dad, but, for some reason he didn't cry. He wasn't even fazed, but knowing that this isn't right faked his sorrow. "I can't believe he's dead" he cried. His mother held him in her arms sobbing, whispering that it'll all be alright.

After that Franklin had trouble taking in pain sometimes acting like it was a joke. Once he saw a boy get hurt and he had to hold his hand to his mouth to cover his smile. That night he snickered himself to sleep muttering about how the kid bled. Little to his knowledge kids saw him smile.

The next day kids steered cleared of him whispering 'that freak, psycho'. For some reason he kind of liked it. The next couple of days if Franklin would pop on his hood and kids would whimper. He felt like a god, he was six, so you can guess why he felt this way. And to add to the scare, most of them knew he enjoyed blades. He got that love from his mum, which, loved swords. So he ended up liking most melee weapons, they fascinated him even having a collection of them. This scary side of him kids dubbed him 'Freaky Frank' because he was freaky, and in this state he was always frank. He wasn't always freaky. He was also very nice, at least if you were nice to him.

If you weren't you'd face a whole lot of mental torture. From your backpack being turned inside out, its contents hidden, to finding sand in it instead, and you couldn't get mad because you knew why it happened. But was he messed with? Yes, which probably added to his psychotic state. Once he woke in a puddle of blood, bloody knife in his hand. How, he was only seven, but to his surprise no news on a death because of a murder.

You see he'd had all kinds of weird things happen to him, like waking covered in blood to seemingly taming a rabid animal. His friends knew some of this but he tended to keep the stuff like blood to his closer friends. One day he was walking home from a friend's house it was dark he carried his practice sword.

This wooden sword was the same size and shape of a standard short sword and it had a wooden scabbard both made by his hand. He had the sword strapped to his back, hard to see in the dark. Franklin noticed a man beating what looked like someone much younger than the man this person about Franklin's age. He asked the man to back off...

The man was clearly drunk, so he pushed Franklin hard on his chest. He instinctively drew his sword. The man laughed, "What you going to do, beat me? I'm twice your size boy." Franklin got a gleam in his eye, he was going to beat that man. Instinct took over, the man went to throw a punch, and then Franklin side stepped. CRACK the young boy slashed down at the man's wrist and hit its target. The man cried out in pain. But, the boy wasn't done, he raised the sword and reigned blows on the man laughing maniacally.

At this point he'd forgotten about the person he was saving. When Franklin decided the man had enough, he slowly stopped. Then he realized something, it was a girl he'd rescued he also recognized her from school. Alexa... no Aurora... yes Aurora. "Are you okay" he said. "Yeah, you're Freaky Frank right?"

'Oh great she know me by that alias' he thought. But answered "yes that's me, are you okay though?" there was a large bruise on her cheek, upon seeing this his anger rose. He turned to the man once again, but Aurora stopped him. "He's my dad! And he's just drunk." Coldly he asked how often was he drunk scoffing at the hunched over figure. The man drooled blood, "we should call 911".