Internet Campfire Tales: The Tortured, A Creepypasta Review

18 Jan

Okay, I need to wash the taste of Rape Zombies out of my mouth. Let’s… let’s throw a Creepypasta on, that should probably help.

[Editor’s Note: … So, how exactly did you get the “taste” of rape zombies in your mouth to begin with?]

Don’t you dare deconstruct my metaphors, or I swear to god, I will re-enact the climax of Man Of Steel with my fists as Superman and Zod, and your face as Metropolis.


Anyway, yeah! Creepypastas, we all love ’em! Or, at the very least, love ’em! There’s something so fascinating about these amateur scary stories, with absolutely no restrictions, that just allow people to be as creative as they want! And today, we’re digging into The Tortured!


“Hi my name’s John, John Walshek.”

And my name is Bond, James Bond, and his name is Wesley, Wesley Crusher, and I’m fucking, fucking tired of this trope.

“If you’re reading this it means I’m probably dead or dying.”

Huh, we already hit the twist ending. Oh well, story’s over!

“I’m a senior in at Tomsborough High. I have decent grades and a high quality of life.” 

Um. Not to play editor, but if you’re assuming you’re dead while you’re writing this, shouldn’t you say you had decent grades and a high quality of life?

“It all started when my friends Jake, Tony and Justin were telling stories at lunch.”

‘This is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down…’

“Tony was an athlete with a bad temper, at times he was alright to be around. Justin was a nerdy who was scared of his own shadow. Jake was an odd kid who didn’t participate in almost any school activities.”

And their band, “The Walking Cliches”.

“Tony and Justin were just going on about the chicks they banged. I noticed that Jake didn’t really care about their babblings by the look on his face.”

Neither do I. Can I leave?

“Jake was quick to change the topic of our discussion by telling us a story he heard from the crazed hobo that stands outside the school.”

Wow, what a seamless change of topic. “Hey, who did you bang last night?” “LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS CRAZY HOBO.”

They’re poor in money, yet rich in hats.

“He told us of a patient at the mental hospital that was a few miles away from our school.”

Wait, the crazed hobo told you about an even crazier mental patient? My god, this is like crazy-people-ception.

“He began telling us about how the doctors wouldn’t feed him for days but when they did they fed him dead roaches and heads from rats that were freshly trapped.”

They should have fed him things that were Freshly Riffed, instead.

“They eventually killed him by trying to see how long he would last with a bag on his head. I thought he was just bullshiting us because doctors wouldn’t do that, they can’t, it would have been all over the news.”

Dude, considering how North American news stations work, they’d be far too busy reporting on the dead maniac’s Twitter feed.

“The next day at lunch Jake tried to convince us to come with him to the nuthouse, he even threatened us. He said he was going to stand on the table and shout, “I have a bunch of one inch penis pussies for friends!””

Good rhetoric technique, you should open debates like that.

“Only Tony and I gave in and said yes to going with him on his adventure.”

But… but it’s adventure time! Marceline would be ASHAMED of you.

Spoiler alert: She’s the coolest.

“Justin just said, “There is no way in HELL that I’m going in that looneybin with you guys.””

That is racist. Against… bins, I guess?

“Justin only said he would let us borrow his car under the circumstances that we don’t scratch it. Tony supplied food and Drink since we were going to stay all night.”

Oh, I guess Drink is better than just… normal drink.

Wait a second, stay all night?! Why?!

“Yesterday was a Friday and we all called in sick so that we didn’t have to worry about our bosses. Jake had planned it all planned out last night. He had even gotten a map of the place from the internet.”

Well, everything on the internet is correct, so I guess I can’t argue with that.

“The time had come for us to pack up and leave. Justin had brought his car right on time and Tony had brought a whole cooler of subs and cola.”

And of course, that rare and elusive sub that is actually just a giant cola.

“When we arrived at what once was a mental hospital we stared in fear at the monster of a building. Windows were boarded up, the front door was missing and the whole place smelled like a men’s room that hadn’t been cleaned in years. What a wonderful journey this was going to be.”

*points behind you*


“We walked into the lobby and set up camp. The first corridor we reluctantly walked down consisted of rusty cell doors and broken windows that specks of light came through.”

Wait, “rusty cell doors”? The fuck? Did this asylum come from the 1800’s or something?

“I began hearing something that sounded like a voice but it sounded muffled, like somebody had a plastic bag over their head.”

And of course, you automatically know what the fuck that sounds like. Not as if… you know, it could just be far away, or on the other side of a wall, or literally anything else.

“I’m pretty sure it said, “Torture… Tortured… Help me… the tortured.””

Man, the Tortured really needs a better PR department.

“All of a sudden I felt light headed and passed out but when I woke up I say Tony lying on the ground in a pool of blood.”

You “say” that? What, are you secretly a ventriloquist?

“The last thing he said to me before he passed away was “He is the tortured.” I decided to press on down the hallway flashlight in one hand, knife in the other. I soon arrived at the cafeteria.”








“A horrible smell kept getting stronger the further I went. I found some containers on one of the tables. My logical part of my brain told me to not open them while my curious side said “Do it you pussy.” When I did I found a decaying head inside.”

“I dropped it and turned vomiting on my right shoe. I looked at the head on more time and noticed there was a key jammed in one of the sockets. I decided to take it unknowing of what it may unlock.”

Why are you even still here?! Why are you exploring?! JUST. LEAVE.

“There was a corridor to my left so I decided to walk down it. At the end was a door that had “The One” written in blood on it. It was locked so I decided to try the key on it. It worked, what luck.”

Congratulations! You’re an idiot.

“As I stepped inside I felt very uneasy. That’s when I saw it. All it was wearing was scrub bottoms and a bag over its head. Its intestines were hanging out its stomach as if it had been cut open with a scalpel. I’m glad it had a bag on its head.”







“I didn’t want to see the horror that it held inside. It appeared to be cradling Jake in its arms like a baby. It didn’t treat him like one would treat a baby though. Jake shrieked, bad move, sharp fangs appeared out of where its mouth would have been.”


“It bit into his forehead pulling out his brains with every bite. My body was frozen stiff as I watched my friend be devoured.”


“After it finished with him, it stared at me and screamed “I AM THE TORTURED AND YOU SHOULD RUN!””

See, even the monster agrees with me!

“I can’t take it anymore I keep having reoccurring nightmares of The Tortured screaming those damn words at me. In a way I feel guilty for my friends’ deaths. So, I’m ending it all. Please don’t go to the mental hospital near Tomsborough High. You will regret it.”

Oh me oh my, what an… anti-climactic ending

So, that was The Tortured, or as I like to call it, A Walking Pile Of Cliches! How was it?

… A walking pile of cliches- yeah, I kinda played my hand pretty early on this one.

It’s pretty bland, very cliched, and doesn’t really bring anything new to the table, but you can definitely tell that the writer was trying to write a good Creepypasta, and I actually really like their description of the Tortured! If only the Tortured brought along… you know, a decent story along with him.

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