Freaky Spaghetti Domacile

In the heart of an endless, misty forest, there stood a crumbling domicile woven entirely from spaghetti. Its walls were strands of sticky, golden noodles, its roof a tangled mess of sauce-stained threads. It was said that strange figures lurked inside, their twisted shapes glimpsed through gaps in the pasta.

Lila, an adventurous girl, stumbled upon the strange house while hiking. The air around it smelled faintly sour, like spoiled marinara, and the sound of soft slurping echoed from within. Despite the warning in her gut, Lila pushed open the noodle door, her curiosity overpowering her fear.

Inside, the floor squelched underfoot, sticky with uncooked dough. Shadows moved unnaturally fast, vanishing the moment she tried to focus on them. A faint voice hissed, "Hungry?"

Lila turned to see figures emerging from the walls—faces partially made of spaghetti, their bodies a grotesque mix of human and pasta. Their hollow eyes stared at her hungrily. One reached out, its hand dripping with oily butter, and caressed her cheek.

"We were like you once," it whispered. "But we stayed too long. The house eats, too."

Before Lila could scream, the floor beneath her began to pull her down, noodles curling around her ankles like living snakes. Her last thought before darkness claimed her was the realization that the spaghetti wasn’t just food—it was made of people.

The next morning, the house stood quiet, a fresh layer of noodles covering the walls. Somewhere deep inside, a new face stirred, its hollow eyes opening for the first time.