Little Nightmares Chef Real Face Novels & Stories

Sometimes, I was sorely tempted to ask him if the mothership had sent him to earth to perform some kind of social experiment. I turned away and headed to my bedroom. As soon as the door closed, I swiftly chose an apartment and transferred the deposit to the real estate agent. While I was inside my bedroom packing my things, Stuart, who hadn't gotten a response from me, vented by chopping up some vegetables. Remembering the ridiculous things he had done in my previous life, I quickly walked into the kitchen—just in time to see him place the entire slow cooker onto the induction stove and reach for the power button.

DAVID'S POV CONT. "The truth is that you haven't lost your memory. This is just you living one life not a doubled life don't listen to whatever people say. Always remember that this is you and you alone not a doubled life okay." Stella nods her head obediently but then remembers her dream and frowns, "Why that frown what happened." "What of my constant nightmare everything looks so real and just recently I found a necklace that looks exactly like the one I saw in my dream today but the only problem is that i couldn't see their faces. What if the dream is real, what if..." " There is no what if here darling not every dream is real some are due to tiredness or overthinking okay. So enough of t

She knew her nightmare will soon turn to reality and this nightmarish reality will make her life hell. Elena Singh was a 22 years old working woman like every normal women but was her life really normal like others? She was unique, she was talented, she was brave, she was independent yet she was terrified, not of anyone else but herself. Why? Because she saw dreams, or you can call them nightmar JJes, and because whatever she dreams comes true. Lately, She gets these weirdly terrifying nightmares which are scarier than any other nightmare she saw. Only if she knew, the MAN in her nightmare will soon turn her whole existence in to a living nightmare.

"Wake up." Instantly, the bustling kitchen froze. The air pressure dropped. This Master Chef, known as 'The Butcher,' was a legend. Even the Head Beta of the kitchens bowed to him. He rarely cooked, only making dishes for the Alpha King himself, spending the rest of his time sleeping in the corner. The large man snapped his eyes open. A jagged scar ran down his face, making him look terrifying—like a demon ready to devour a soul. Faye hid behind Serena, trembling. The Butcher was as scary as ever. The first time eight-year-old Faye saw him, she had burst into tears. The trauma lingered.

[Chloe] The alarm screamed at 5:30 AM. I slapped it. It fell off the nightstand. It hit the floor. It kept screaming. "Okay," I groaned. "I am up. You win." I sat up. The room was not my room. The walls were cream. The sheets were silk. The bed was big enough for five people. I remembered. The vase. The risotto. The job. I was the personal chef to the Mafia King.

A man dressed as a chef stood there chopping some vegetables while two maids bustled about, probably following his orders. They all looked up at once as I entered the kitchen before bowing hurriedly. "Good evening, Luna," they all greeted me. I nodded at them all with a smile. "Good evening, everyone. I would like to prepare a special dinner for Ch- I mean, your Alpha tonight myself. So I'd like for you to guys to take the night off." The Chef, for some reason, looked appalled. "But...but...Luna, we are here. At your service. You must not exert yourself. We will prepare everything. You only give us orders," he explained in a thick italian accent.

No, seriously, this should be one of those nights I reluctantly joined Leah to see a Saw movie and then had to deal with terrifying dreams. Thinking about Leah brought tears to my eyes. But no, I’d rather die than cry in front of this psychopath. To add fuel into my raging fire, he said, “What would you like for dinner? Pasta? Fajitas? Nachos? Nachos should be fine.” He rose and disappeared into some form of oblivion. I didn’t care. I didn’t look. Then, I heared him call in a maid. He went ahead to request for the nachos.

I agreed easily. I heard him mutter a few choice words under his breath at me, probably still upset, but I just ignored him, shifting into a more comfortable position as I counted to three. I gave a little wave in the direction the camera should be. “Hey guys, I'm Strings. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, one of them being who the hell I am. Before I get into all that, though, I should thank you guys for watching. Now, as for your questions, they are going to be read by our famous guest, the one and only Nightmare Master. Since I'm blind, I need someone like him to read the questions for me don't ask him to come in front of the, camera. He doesn't like to, and it really upsets him when

Blood trickled from my lip again—the scab split open. He crawled up my body like a predator. Weight pinning me down. His knee pressed into my back. “You’re gonna pay for that.” Tears burned my eyes. I bucked, twisted, clawed at the floor. Nails scraping concrete until they bled. “Get off me!” The door was so close. Open. Taunting. Then a shadow filled it. A figure—short, round, white hair catching the light. The old chef from the cafeteria. His face was thunderous, eyes wide with shock that quickly turned to rage.

But reality was a little piece of dump, because as my eyes looked around my room I remembered how much I depended on my paycheck to survive. I got out of bed heading to the bathroom and started getting ready. Walking into the kitchen to grab some breakfast I caught Claire standing over a frying pot with a spatula. "Good morning." she greeted cheefully. I looked at her weirdly without saying anything. "How did you sleep?" she asked me turning back around to tend to what she was making. "Good. You?" I replied still weirded out by her behaviour. "Good. I made pancakes." she exclaimed plating them and passing them to me. She made her way over to the cupboard grabbing the syrup making her way bac