Creepy Pasta Novels & Stories

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.

But for some reason when she saw the pastas, her appetite became drastically increased and she couldn't wait to eat the very tempting cheese pasta in front of her. "Eat. You must be hungry." Lexie grabbed her fork and ate the pasta voraciously. The taste of the cheese that is so soft feels so right when combined with the chewy fettucini pasta to which has been added a few pinches of typical European spices. Unknowingly Lexie had closed her eyes while enjoying every sensation of cheese that was melting in her mouth. What Lexie did, everything did not escape Rafe's view. Since then he has been observing Lexie's face which has changed slightly after tasting his pasta. He thought he had managed

They all looked down as Caraline descended to the first floor. "That's annoying." Caraline shook her hair, scanning the dishes on the table. Her attention was drawn to a small plate of pasta. Despite its simple appearance, it looked very appetizing. Caraline shifted a few plates around, beginning to savor the pasta. Her appetite increased as the delicious taste filled her tongue. When the food was gone, she quickly called out to Grace. "I want more of this pasta," Caraline said without turning around. "Miss Caraline," Grace said with a downcast look. Her hands squeezed the ends of her sleeves. "Actually... the pasta was made by Mr. Deric."

It just looked out of place. "Yeah, she looks so much like her mum." "I wasn't talking about the girl, but whatever..." He trailed off and then went back to sorting out his ingredients. I expected him to start up a conversation but when he kept going about his business without even involving me, I had to speak up. "So what kind of pasta are you making?" I asked, picking up the pack of cold shrimps straight from the freezer. "I hate shrimp just so you know." "Garlic butter shrimp pasta," Luca said with a shine in his eyes. It seemed like he was really excited to be cooking. I had no idea that cooking could get him so excited.

“The pasta is undercooked. The garlic and the pesto are scarcely detectable in the dish. Right now, Gail is starting to get on my nerves more than she already has. Why the fuck did I even agree to play house girl? “Ms. Davis, the pesto is just mouthwatering. Could I kindly have some more?” Gail furrowed her brow. I’d like to eat what she can make because those milky hands seem like the only thing they can lift is a spoon and a dick. I approached the table and placed additional pasta on Mr. Lombardi’s plate. The guy then began eating, while the witch began tinkering with her meal. Mr. Lombardi looked at her and didn’t say anything; the man kept eating his food without even paying attention to

Grant came in daily, to keep the apartment in order, but she had never been expected to cook. Still frowning, Electa watched the under-cupboard lighting reflect down onto his long brown fingers as he lifted the lid off a pan of what looked like simmering pasta. “You made that?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. “It’s from a packet,” Adrastos admitted, “with precise instructions printed on it. The rest came ready-cooked in cartons from ‘Tony’s’.” He named a local Italian restaurant they’d used to eat at often. “Tony refused to provide his fresh pasta for me to ruin.”

It's funny because after we became dogs and cats, here we are, happily exchanging stories. "You know, even your mood is also talking to you, huh! But I didn't think that after being a stranger we would be like this," she laughed as she stabbed the pasta with a fork. I ordered specialty pasta that we have that the ingredient of it is white and kinds of seafood. "It's delicious, isn't it? Can we get some to bring home?" she asked and I smiled because she liked our specialty pasta. "Sure! I'll have the chef make a new one for auntie." I yelled at him because of his choking. I quickly reached for the tea juice because of what had happened.

He said sipping his wine Ashyrel POV I rubbed my nose as the smell of powder pepper filled my nose. I felt like crying because of this. I put the souce in the pan and stir it well. I'm cooking pasta right now, I craved for it so I wanna make it personally. As I smell the souce I hear my stomach growl, I guess my baby is hungry already , I chuckled. I put the remaining ingredients in the pan and lastly I put the pasta inside the pan and stir it well until it reach it's peak. I smell it first before turning off the fire.

It was a Saturday night, we managed to ditch Tanya during our weekend out and it was around eight in the evening when we decided to visit Pastini Pastaria, a Local Italian bistro chain which specialized in classic & contemporary pasta, with gluten-free options. We all loved pasta and their Pasta were the best. We made a habit of eating her at least once in two weeks, but with all that happened in past couple of weeks and me mostly sulking in the corner of my dorm room, we did not visit this place for three months. Occupying our favorite seat, I was browsing through the menu when the addicting floral scent wafted through my nose. I whipped around and came face to face with my mate, who stood

BEEF with Broccoli was the free meal for her that dinner. According to Malou, Mama Loida personally cooked dinner for that night because her son was supposed to go home. As always, Jenny's answers to Malou remained straightforward. Although the woman is kind, she is just like that, shy and quiet. She did remember, when she was in college, she was often teased by a particular person that recently became her best friend at a private university where she attended her first year of college, Ara.