Novel & Cerita Creepy Pasta

What, now that you're management, you forgot where you came from? "Besides, worms are packed with protein. Some people can't even buy them. Why are you being so dramatic?" Just like always, she tore me down in front of everyone. Like I would still be dumb enough to believe the lies she dressed up as love.

Only two places still had lights on at the corner. A barbecue joint. A pasta place. I didn't hesitate. "Pasta." Theron raised a brow. "So decisive?" "Yes." My wolf, deep in the recesses of my mind, lazily flicked its tail. Compared to greasy grilled meat, a bowl of steaming pasta sounded far more appealing—especially after everything that had just happened. A few minutes later, we were seated in the pasta shop. The air was thick with the smell of beef sauce. I lowered my head and texted Amelia: [We're in Grey Creek. Want to join us?]

I rushed to slide the pot over, splashing hot water across my knuckles. By the time I drained the pasta and tossed it with the egg and cheese, the pan was still too hot. The eggs immediately curdled, turning into yellow clumps. I stared at the plates of scrambled-egg pasta in complete defeat. At exactly seven o'clock, the kitchen door swung open. Bella walked in, wearing a comfortable gray sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back in a simple clip. She stopped at the kitchen entrance, her eyes taking in the smoky air, the messy counters, and the two plates of clumped pasta on the table.

He stared at the pale, bloated tube of pasta, swimming in a pool of broken, overly oily sauce. The silence was suffocating to Ivana, as she tried not to look at him. Damn! It was fucking hard. Tardrain stared so intensely, it was as if he were trying to identify the strange species and to figure out what exactly she had cooked. He noticed it was Rigatoni she had used, which he never liked to be used for his creamy pasta, but then again, aside from that It looked strange, almost making him question if this was the exact creamy pasta that had been his favorite for years.

By the time I was done, Cleo unimpressed eyes were still on me. "What," I drawled out, she rolled her eyes. "Going by your logic, shouldn't you be scared of eating pasta?” She said, throwing me off track for a minute. “Eating pasta in such large portion, I remember you rushing to the restroom over bad sauce from a pasta. Or what about that drink. That cocktail you love, what it's name again?" I signed, "Sex on the beach,"

DEEP IN THE BATH TUB The steam from the boiling pasta curled up like whispers, filling Brucha's cramped kitchen with the scent of garlic and tomatoes. I stirred the sauce, my mind drifting to the evening ahead. God, Brucha's been so busy today. Tonight was supposed to be ours—candlelight, wine, me slipping into that lacy thing I packed. But he's glued to his laptop again, probably nodding off already. I glanced toward the living room where the blue glow flickered from his screen.

But now, as the buzz settled and the store began to find its rhythm, Marcus and Brenda finally had time to just… be. Brenda sat on Marcus’s couch, legs folded beneath her, a mug of tea warming her hands. She wore one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves drooping past her wrists, and a pair of leggings that had seen better days. Marcus was in the kitchen, preparing what he proudly called “Bachelor Chef Pasta”—a blend of garlic, cream, leftover rotisserie chicken, and a reckless amount of parmesan. “Smells good,” Brenda called. “Don’t sound so surprised,” Marcus teased, his voice half-drowned by the sizzle of garlic in the pan.

“Alright—but what I’m craving might be something you’ve never even heard of… ever tried cold pasta salad with spicy vinaigrette? I used to love it as a kid. But after I grew up, I could never find it around here.” It was a humble street-side snack back in Lystra—nothing fancy, just chilled noodles tossed with vinegar, peppers, and a good hit of spice. But when the vendor knew what they were doing, it was absolutely addictive. After leaving Lystra, Raina never had it again. Even when she came across stalls that sold it, it never quite tasted the same. Leif replied, “I can make it.” Raina raised an eyebrow and praised, “Haha, no wonder they say you’re amazing, Mr. Vexley—you really do know eve

But then, his smile vanished and the light in his eyes turned to fire. “But that would be over my dead body,” he growled under his breath. “Because if I can’t have you… then no one in the world will. Not under my watch.” ******* Rosealba sat on the chair with squinted shoulders. Her eyes lingered on the food that laid out on the tray. Staring back at her. She sucked in some breath, inhaling the aroma of the well-cooked Tonnarelli Cacio e P**e. A handmade pasta with Pecorino Romano and black pepper. Creamy and simply magical.

Dad and Rory sighed and turned to me. “Please, ignore her. Eat,” Rory said, and I smiled politely at him. “What do you want to eat?” Dexter asked me, and I looked at the table. I was so distracted by her I forgot I was hungry. “The pasta is really nice. This is Cullen skink; it’s a creamy soup you two should give it a try. There are also some snacks if you have space in your belly for more,” Dad said, and I smiled. “We would love to try it,” I said, and he smiled.