Creepy Pasta Novels & Stories

I don’t want to make this conversation any more awkward. So, I decide to divert the conversation altogether. I grab a chair and sit at the table. “It smells like a whole Italian restaurant exploded in here. What were you cooking?” Cooper grins, his eyes lighting up. “Just a little something I learned from my Italian ex-girlfriend. Pasta alla vodka with shrimp.” I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “And how did that turn out for you?” He chuckles. “Not too shabby, if I may say so myself. Want to try?”

But we haven’t had the chance to fuck ever since then because Brad’s been in our faces and I’m currently battling the world’s worst case of blue balls. Fucking great. I clear my throat quietly, trying to remember what we’d been talking about before I zoned out. “Yeah. Why?” “Sophie was asking if you liked the pasta?” My head begins turning in her direction but I quickly stomp on the brakes before I make a mistake I’m undoubtedly going to regret. “It’s fine.” I shrug. I liked being inside you more. The words are on the tip of my tongue and it takes a lot of effort to keep them there.

Why does she keep wearing something so short ? It is getting to my head. Maeve gripped my hand after we were done with the laundry and dragged me to the kitchen. She decided we were making creamy chicken and mushroom pasta. She took out everything from the refrigerator and pantry and placed them on the counter. Chicken, mushrooms, pasta, heavy cream, Parmesan cheese, garlic, butter, and a few seasonings. “Okay,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s cook.” “Isn’t that too much for breakfast? I thought we were having something like pancakes,” I muttered.

“I made you birthday pasta… but they’ve been sitting too long. They’re probably all clumped together by now.” “No big deal.” Before she could say more, Louis had already lifted the lid. Sure enough, the pasta had soaked up all the broth, swollen and nearly spilling over. The once-bright greens had wilted and turned a dull yellow. Adora winced and reached out quickly. “Don’t eat it. It’s all soggy.” “It looks fine. You even arranged it nicely,” Louis said, sensing how embarrassed she was. Without hesitation, he picked up the fork and took a bite.

Like, rich, cheesy, carb-drenched pasta that could stop a heart if it tried hard enough. I pour myself a generous glass from the bottle on the counter—something French with a name I can't pronounce—and open the fridge. Nothing but green juices and cruelty-free yogurt. I boil pasta, dump in olive oil, parmesan, and black pepper, and pretend I’m a Michelin chef. Harper probably hasn’t touched a carb since 2016. By ten, I’m tucked into Harper’s bed with my wine, a bowl of pasta I already regret finishing, and a book I found in her nightstand.

I muttered savoring the taste of the creamy pasta “It's been so long I was actually afraid that you might not like pasta anymore” “Of course I still like it, why won't I like it, this taste so damn good” I muttered “I'm glad you like it” He smiled, I tasted the fried chicken breast and the pasta and I almost lost my mind, this is so fucking good, I kept on eating and eating, and gosh he bought so much food and I cannot stop eating, my stomach was so full and still there's so much food and he barely ate anything

If I had to inhale that toxic cloud for even a second longer, I might actually pass away. But my relief is short-lived. Because moments later, Tessa reappears. With two steaming bowls of... Of... I break into a cold sweat. Wouldn’t it be cruel to call this pasta?? Tessa beams as she sets the bowls down. “Dig in!” Dig in? I stare at the offensive pile of noodles in front of me. The sauce is a questionable shade of green. The spring onions float menacingly on top, like they're plotting something. The smell? Unholy.

“ You are meant to ruin this Brenda , don’t be easily swayed “ I said to myself. I had to keep it in mind that I am Eva and not Brenda for that moment. “ Just a cup of coffee “ I said to the waiter . “ Two plates of lasagna as well”. He said to the waiter as he was about to leave . Lasagna is one of the most famous kind of pasta. It’s made only by AB food , Chairman Huxley ‘s company. He must have ordered that to impress Eva. I was surely impressed. I always crave for that recipe.

Not that I did not have faith in my cooking, but I was not confident enough whether or not he would like my cooking. Mr Frost was a very unpredictable man, I did not know his likes or dislikes… yet. I felt like he could be very final as well. What if he did not like my food? Deciding to push all the negative thoughts to the back of my head, I checked the meal plan. Hmm. Pasta. They had not specified a type, so I placed two fingers on my chin, deep in thought. "Creamy Cajun Chicken Pasta… I've watched too many videos about it, but now I have all the ingredients to make it. Expensive ones, not the cheap kind, too." I clapped my hands together in light glee.

Caspian Bianchi ~•~ “What smells good?” I heard the annoying voice of my brother as he stepped inside the kitchen. “Caspian making dinner. This is a sight to behold.” To accompany his statement, Antonio brought out the phone and took a few snapshots of me. “What are you making?” “Pasta,” I answered dryly as I dished it into two different plates. “Spaghetti alla Carbonara.” Antonio spelled out as he looked over my shoulder. “But why are there only two plates? It’s not dinner time yet but a man’s hungry.”