Creepy Frozen Pasta Novels & Stories

“ holy shit “ fred cursed silently when he came out of the bathroom to find Cassy sleeping soundly on his bed Noticing that she was truly sleeping, fred silently wore his cloths then went down to the kitchen “ young master I prepared chicken tetrazzini The pasta is in the bowl over there “ mrs Betty an advance woman in a cook uniform said pointing at a bowl at the table in the kitchen “ The cream sauce is ready I just have to add mushrooms , the chicken and allow it to boil together then get it ready for baking “mrs Betty said turning the cream sauce . “ alright I will be at the sitting room “Fred said walking towards the fridge “ No problem sir I will call you after setting the dinning “ mr

“I know, right? Princesses don't cook. Now run along.” “You are impossible!” She said before stomping out of the kitchen. SHAWN'S POV Did she just say he was impossible? A kettle calling pot black. Not wanting to dwell on some daddy's brat, He got to work. He brought out frozen steak from the freezer, veggies, pasta from the drawer, and other ingredients he needed. His fathers company produces Frozen fast food that when microwaved can be eaten and still give a homemade feeling and taste. He was going to use the company's already made sauce for the pasta. No jokes, but his father's products are the best.

"That's impossible!" However, Michelle was already panicking in the corner. Noticing her distress, Melvin stepped forward with faux concern. "Honey, you look pale. Is something wrong?" Michelle scrambled to close her banking app. "Darling, the finance department missed a payment to a client. They need it urgently, so I was going to cover it myself, but my account seems to be frozen. Could you transfer me 150 thousand—" Before she could finish, Melvin interrupted coldly. "I'm the one who froze it."

The waiter carefully placed the plate in front of me, and I was immediately captivated by the vibrant colors and enticing aroma. The dish was Tagliatelle al Tartufo, a classic Italian delicacy. The tagliatelle, with its wide, flat ribbons, was cooked to perfection. The pasta’s golden hue gleamed under a delicate drizzle of truffle oil, adding a luxurious sheen. The rich, earthy scent of the truffles was intoxicating, mingling with the aroma of melted Parmesan that enveloped the dish.

Chapter 62: Shared Dreams The dream felt more real than waking life. We were on a frozen pond somewhere quiet and untouched, snow drifting softly around us. No arena lights, no cameras, no syndicate watching. Just the crisp bite of winter air and the scrape of our skates on natural ice. Callan chased me with a playful growl, his laughter echoing across the open space a sound I rarely heard from him in reality. When he finally caught me, he wrapped his strong arms around my waist and spun me around. The world blurred in a swirl of white and blue.

She put on her orange gown and went straight to the kitchen to get some food. Due to fatigue, she was unable to make something to eat instead she ordered pizza online. She heard the doorbell and hurriedly rushed towards the door "Lev?" "Here's your pizza", he said handing her the box. She collected it "Can I come in?" he asked politely. She nodded. He walked into the largely royal living room and sat on the sofa "Why to order this junk?" he asked her but she didn't reply rather she went to the dining and began her feasting.

Kaityln couldn't help but smile, knowing that each step in the process was a labor of love, not only for herself but for the tiny life growing within her. As she gazed at the perfectly prepared Italian spaghetti, an unexpected urge overcame Kaitlyn. Despite the initial resistance to the idea, an inexplicable craving drove her to consider an unconventional addition – a generous scoop of ice cream atop her pasta. The juxtaposition of flavors seemed unusual, yet the compelling force of her pregnancy-induced longing made it oddly appealing. In a moment of culinary curiosity, she hesitated, contemplating whether to follow through with this unexpected fusion of tastes.

Opula protested and feigned a pitiable face. “If I were you I would bury my face in shame. it is disheartening that you invested so much effort and item in preparing poison. Take a look at the color of the pasta and the aroma which stinks like cow dung. Do you think there is any health benefit in your food?” Opula dragged the dish to her front, pasta is my favorite food and I am I don’t think anyone prepares it better than I do. My father-in-law here is not complaining and we were having fun before you came.”

“We can make a Luna one too. With little fake bite marks on the arm.” “Absolutely not,” I said, then relented. “Maybe. Later.” Freya appeared at my elbow, thrusting a plate at me. “Cravings?” she asked breathlessly. “I heard pregnant women like pickles and ice cream, so I made—” I stared down at a dish containing exactly that. Pickles. And ice cream. Together. Naomi gagged quietly in the background. I took an experimental bite. My wolf hummed in confused pleasure. “This is… disgusting,” I said and took another bite. “And also perfect. Thank you.”

The store is only seven minutes away, but I make it there in five I’m starving. The doors automatically open and I make a B-line right to the pasta isle. The store is mostly empty and suddenly I’m transported back into the office. I look up and down the aisle, but all I see when I look left is the section where all the frozen meat is and when I look right the empty opening to the other sections.