Creepypasta Backstories

Clockwork

A/N- Before starting, I'd like to say I also agree that Clockwork is a Mary Sue. This story isn't here because I enjoy it, just to inform others of her character story. Please keep your rude comments to yourself. Thank you!

A little girl sat in her room. Her messy brown hair was pulled into pigtails, and her hazel eyes stared at the door. She hugged her stuffed giraffe close to her little body and listened closely to the loud yells of her father and mother. "I never should've had any damn kids!" Screamed a loud deep voice. "All they do is make messes, complain, and draw on the walls." He was cut off by the girl's mother. 'They're children, David! They don't know any better!" "Oh f**k me, Marybeth. I don't wanna hear your bullsh!t excuses, I have had just about enough of them!" "And what do you plan on doing about it?"

The girl heard footsteps coming towards her room, she hugged her giraffe closer. The door was violently opened and there in the hallway stood her large, angry, overweight father. In one of his meaty hands, he held a large textbook. "Stop it, David!" Screamed her mother but the father ignored his wife's pleading and cries. He grabbed the little girl by the collar and she screamed and kicked, trembling and shaking with fear. The girl's father harshly held up the textbook. 'This is for drawing on my f**king walls, you little b!tch!"

Years later, the little girl known as Natalie, is seventeen years old. Like usual, she stayed in her room, watching T.V. Her dad was ranting on and on about some economic crap that she really couldn't care less about, while she munched on some popcorn. She was also currently drawing a picture. It had a little bit of gore in it but she liked drawing blood, it gave her some weird satisfaction. Other than that, multitasking was no problem for her. It became apparent to her at a young age after have to do with so much hard work and labor. She was able to do everything at once. Drawing ended up being her talent and passion. It was her way of escaping from reality.

'We're here." She looked at a large sign in the school that read ' Walker Vill Institute for the Creative Fine Arts.' She sighed tiredly and stepped out, putting her backpack on her shoulder. "See ya." She said, closing the car door. She waked into the school and chatted with a couple of friends until she went up to her locker on the third floor, she grabbed her books and before the five minutes of time is over, she runs to class. Her English teacher annoyingly put out her hand on Natalie's desk. Natalie seemed puzzled by the thought for a moment. She didn't know why but those words seemed to melt through her. She simply ignored it and went back to listening to the lesson, falling asleep not to long after, of course. "Where's your assignment, Miss Ouellette?" Natalie swallowed. "I, um- I forgot it at home." The teacher growled and stood. 'Your time is up, Miss Ouellette. Don't disappoint me."

Later that day, she was heading to her locker for fourth period and suddenly, her boyfriend, Chris, came up to her. "Hey.... talk to me after school, okay?" She smiled lovingly at Chris though strangely, she didn't expect anything. He was always a sweet guy.

During her French class, she dared no to pay attention instead, she doodled a thing she loved to draw; blood, gore, people being stabbed, and knives. Other people say it's pretty dark of her to draw such things but she saw nothing wrong with it. For a strange reason, it was almost normal to her. "Miss Ouellette!" She quickly covered her drawings on her paper and looked up at her French teacher. "Yes..." He gestured her to move her arm with a slight turn of is head. "Show me your work." She hesitantly moved her arm to show the picture of someone being stabbed. The teacher stared, puzzled, looking at her a bit. She smiled nervously. "Erase that and get started on your work." He said in a calm tone. He walked away as she sighed and erased the picture. "And Miss Ouellette," She looked up at him, "Your time is almost up on getting your work done. I suggest doing it now." She growled at the remark. Time always seemed to be against her. As far as she cared, time can go f**k itself.