Creepy Pasta Novels & Stories

Pasta is a code word for we need to talk where the walls don’t have ears. “We’ll be there. I’ll bring the bread.” I saw that smirk that let me know he was enjoying all this secrecy way more that he should. Meanwhile, Cora sits in her chair staring at us both like we have lost our minds. I haven’t filled her in on all of the things that I have done and think are going on.

The food comes out to our table - spinach pasta smothered in a crimson cream sauce with grilled chicken, squash and garnished with basil and feta. "Metssa a le poullo," Ramona announces proudly. "Venetian favorite" My father unravels his silverware and places the cloth napkin on his lap. "Looks and smells delicious." "I'm confident it will satisfy your palate, Mr. Harrison." Ramona and my father begin eating, Ramona using her fork to place the pasta on her spoon raised to her mouth before she eats from that surface instead. Claude and I don't even touch our steaming dishes regardless of the mouth-watering smell. If anything, the smell of the food makes me nauseous from what I just witnessed.

Give me a good mark, OK? She put back the letter on the table and get the porcelain bowl. Zitrey starts to scoop the Crying of the Graveyard, as soon as she scooped it, the said food gives off a 'gurgle sound' and purple bubbles show up. Whatever ingredients on it look like horrified and screaming; indeed the said name 'The Crying of the Graveyard' stands for this dish. Nevertheless, Zitrey still transfers what she scooped on her own bowl and gulp the whole bowl of soup. She even finished the remaining soup in the pot. As soon as she finished, she went to their refrigerator. When she opened it, there's nothing, seems the things inside fell into the abyss. Zitrey did a deep sigh. Every time K

She bit her lip as she saw that there were bits of parsley over it and the cheesy with the creamy white sauce over the pasta. Danny smiled at her as she rubbed her hands and the maid left all at once after bowing down their heads. "You still liked creamy pasta even if we grew up too much?" Danny asked her as he remembered how Marian was so thrilled about tasting the creamy pasta that the cooks had been serving them for years at their mansion. Marian scooped up by using the three forked utensils and placed them on her plate. She licked her lips as she looked at the creamy pasta curled on her plate.

Chapter 55 The Werewolf Realm Clara's POV I came out for dinner, and my night officially collapsed. Marcy's mother didn't just cook a random meal… She cooked crab pasta. CRAB. Pasta. Of all foods in the world, she cooked the one thing I'm deathly allergic to. Not even slightly allergic—no. If crab touches me, my skin turns red, I swell up, then I get cold chills like someone threw me naked into winter.

Estelle’s POV I made pasta. Butter and parmesan for Lucas—his reliable safe food, the meal he’d eat when he wouldn’t eat anything else. Tomato sauce for Chloe, who wanted everything red and would probably request ketchup on her birthday cake. We sat at the table. Chloe twirled her pasta with focus, loading each forkful. Lucas pushed his around his plate, dragging the fork through the butter in long slow lines, making tracks in the parmesan without lifting any of it to his mouth.

“I think so. I used the pasta in the cabinet.” “It’s fine, I suppose,” Camille replied. She took a small amount from the bowl. She took a few meatballs as well. She bit into one, and a moan escaped her lips. “This is wonderful. What did you put in this? I could have it every day…” Eileen was smiling. She looked pretty doing it, too. “Nothing special. It has bread crumbs and the regular spices. Maybe it’s the ground beef Dan brought.” Camille dropped her fork. “THIS IS BEEF?”

He tries his best to look apologetic, “Cheesy pasta, if that’s possible.” Carlos smiles and nods, disappearing into the kitchen. A few moments later he returns with what looks like a loaded macaroni cheese, with chicken, bacon, sweetcorn, spring onions and breadcrumbs on top. It looks delicious. “That looks amazing. Thank you.” He bows his head and hands it over.

I smile again and announce my presence, bow standing beside her. “Good evening, Mrs Greta.” She mumbles a good evening to me and turns away. “That looks heavenly. What are you making?” I press on. “Dinner.” I look into the pan and see she's making pasta. My nostrils flare up from the smell of the peppers. “That feels really spicy.” “They are. Mr. Escarrá likes it extra spicy.” She shakes more pepper seeds into the pan. “I'm sorry. I can't handle all that spice. Can I have something else, please?” I move to the fridge but she intercepts me with a frown.

But he only kicked my desk before going to sit. Soon, the teacher arrived, and the first class commenced. By the end of the class, Lena offered to treat me to a simple meal of hot pot in the food stall just across the university, and I could only agree. We both walked into the food stall, the old man immediately recognizing us since we always had meals there. We had just taken our seats when we heard a snicker. “She thinks she's all big now because she had a makeover. Kylie, do you not have makeovers every weekend?” A voice so familiar muttered, and I didn't need to turn before I knew who it was–Livia. One of Kyle's lackeys.