Isn’t epitaph banned so he would loss in a nanosecond

I’m a boy and fan fictions have canon charters doing random stuff but creepypasta are things that are copy pasta but creepy in some way

Creepypasta not fanfiction

here it is:In the eerie silence of the nocturnal city, I, Mr. Happy, stirred from my slumber. My heart, once a feeble flicker, now pounded with an unnatural rhythm, a testament to the macabre transformation I had undergone.

Before I became a proxy, my heart was a fragile vessel, its beat a constant reminder of my mortality. But then, the Master, Slenderman, bestowed upon me a new heart, one crafted from the ethereal essence of his own. With it came a sinister hunger that gnawed at my very core.

As a night owl, I relished the solitude of the sleeping city. The darkness enveloped me like a comforting blanket, concealing the horrors that lurked within. I had found my calling as the cook for the proxy, a gruesome task that filled me with a perverse sense of satisfaction.

One fateful night, as I prepared a gruesome feast for my fellow proxies, I couldn\’t resist a taste of my own creation. The delicious flesh taste melted in my mouth, its metallic tang igniting a primal desire within me. I felt a surge of power coursing through my veins, a sensation that both exhilarated and terrified me.

As the night wore on, I ventured out into the city, my hunger growing with each passing moment. The streets were deserted, save for the occasional flicker of a streetlight casting eerie shadows. I stalked the shadows, my senses heightened, searching for prey.

Suddenly, I caught a faint whiff of something sweet and alluring. It led me to a dimly lit alleyway, where a young person stood alone. their fear was palpable, their eyes wide with terror as they realized my presence.

In that instant, a primal instinct took over. I lunged at them, my teeth bared. Her screams were cut short as my new heart pulsed with an insatiable hunger. I feasted on their flesh, reveling in the taste of her terror.

As the last vestiges of their life ebbed away, I felt a profound sense of whatever is the opposite of hunger I DON’T KNOW.

From that night forward, I was forever haunted by the memory of my victim. Their screams echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the darkness that now consumed me. I became a high ranking member among the proxy, a member who had succumbed to his own depravity.

And so, I wander the city at night, a figure driven by an unquenchable hunger. My heart, once a symbol of hope to people , is now a cursed relic, a constant reminder of the horrors I have committed. I am Mr. Happy, the cook for the proxy, and I am forever a member