Générateur de Voix IA Hey everyone par Fish Audio

Générez la voix Hey everyone, utilisée 22 fois avec 1 likes. Créez un discours Féminin, Jeune, Réseaux Sociaux avec la synthèse vocale AI.

Hey everyone

par usm abb

Hey everyone, and welcome to StreamStories! I’m your host, Heeba Usman, and if you’re new here, this is the place where we dive into the most spine-chilling, eerie, and real-life ghostly encounters. Whether it's a true haunting, a mysterious tale, or the kind of story that leaves you questioning everything you thought you knew, we’ve got you covered. So grab a blanket, turn down the lights, and get ready for a journey into the unknown. Make sure to hit that subscribe button and ring the bell, so you never miss a terrifying story that will keep you up at night. Now, let’s get into tonight’s tale—The Last Guest. It was late in the evening when Emily received the invitation. She had been living alone for over a year now, ever since she had moved to the quiet countryside to escape the noise and bustle of city life. The old farmhouse she rented was perfect—isolated, peaceful, and surrounded by acres of land that stretched all the way to the horizon. It was exactly what she needed. Emily had always preferred solitude, but after moving into the farmhouse, she realized how quickly the silence could feel... oppressive. The wind howled through the trees, and the creaking of the house late at night was enough to make her feel uneasy sometimes. But it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She had a knack for dismissing the little things—the shadows in the corner of her vision, the faint whispers she sometimes thought she heard on the wind. But tonight, was different. She sat at the kitchen table, her cup of tea cooling in front of her, when a letter slid through the mail slot. There was no name or return address—just a plain envelope. Intrigued, she opened it. Inside was a single card. It was plain, just an old-fashioned black-and-white invitation with the words written in bold, elegant script: "You are invited to The Last Supper. Come alone. Tomorrow night, 9 p.m." No address. No details. Just those words. At first, Emily thought it was some kind of joke. Perhaps one of her neighbors, playing a trick on her. But as she stared at the card, a chill began to creep over her. Something about it felt... wrong. The elegance of the writing, the odd simplicity of the invitation—it all seemed deliberate, as if meant to unsettle her. Despite her better judgment, Emily’s curiosity won out. She decided to go. After all, she had been alone for so long. Maybe this would be her chance to meet someone, even if it was just for a strange dinner. She figured she could leave quickly if anything felt off. The next evening, she prepared herself. She dressed simply—jeans, a sweater, and boots. By 8:45 p.m., she stood at the front door, staring out into the darkness. The wind had picked up, the trees bending and swaying under the pressure. The sky was overcast, and the stars were hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. She glanced at the invitation one last time, double-checking that the time was correct. 9 p.m. At 9:01, she set out into the night. The path to the farmhouse was long and winding, with shadows that seemed to stretch and warp in the dim light. Emily found herself walking faster than usual, her breath coming in quick bursts. Despite the late hour, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was following her, just beyond the tree line. As she reached the clearing near the woods, she saw it. A large, abandoned mansion, standing at the edge of a cliff. It was the kind of place people in stories visited—the kind of house that only appeared in your nightmares. There were no lights, no signs of life, just a dark, looming structure surrounded by an eerie stillness. Her heart raced as she approached the door, which creaked open the moment her hand touched the handle. Emily hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. The air was cold, colder than she expected, but there was no turning back now. The inside of the mansion was vast, with long corridors that stretched in every direction. The floors were covered with dust, and the heavy scent of mildew and decay filled the air. She wandered for what felt like hours, calling out, "Hello? Is anyone here?" But her voice seemed to disappear into the vast emptiness. The invitation had said "come alone," and she wondered if the people who had invited her were already there, perhaps waiting in one of the rooms. She couldn’t shake the sensation that eyes were on her, watching from the shadows, though every room she entered was empty. Just as she began to feel overwhelmed by the silence, she heard something—a soft sound, like a distant whisper, coming from somewhere down the hallway. Her heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively turned toward it. The hallway stretched into darkness, and Emily hesitated. She had the option to turn back, to run out the door and forget about everything. But something inside her, something inexplicable, pushed her forward. She walked toward the sound, her footsteps echoing eerily against the stone walls. As she neared the end of the hallway, she saw a faint light—dim and flickering—coming from beneath a door. She reached out, her hand trembling as she touched the cold brass doorknob. Before she could open it, a low, guttural voice called out from behind her. "Don’t open that door." Startled, Emily spun around, but no one was there. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she took a step back. She was alone, as far as she could tell. But the voice—where had it come from? Her mind raced, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. "Don’t open that door," the voice repeated, this time softer, almost pleading. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, but she couldn’t shake the curiosity that had led her here. She reached for the door again, this time pushing it open slowly. Inside was a long dining table, set for a meal. Candles flickered along its length, casting eerie shadows on the walls. But the strangest thing of all were the figures seated at the table. There were six people, their faces obscured by shadows. "Join us," one of them said, their voice like a whisper that seemed to vibrate in the very air. Emily froze. She didn’t know why, but something about them felt wrong. The invitation had told her to come alone. And yet, these people, these strangers, were waiting for her. She didn’t know what to do. Before she could turn to leave, the door slammed shut behind her. The room grew colder, and the figures at the table slowly started to move. Their heads turned to her in unison, their hollow eyes glowing faintly in the candlelight. "Sit with us," they urged, their voices all coming together in a single, harmonious whisper. Terrified, Emily backed away, but her feet felt as if they were stuck to the floor, frozen in place. She couldn’t move. The room began to spin around her, and the walls seemed to close in. Suddenly, the figure closest to her stood up and stepped toward her. Its face was pale, gaunt, and its mouth hung open in a grotesque smile. "You’re the last guest," it whispered. "The last one we’ve been waiting for." The air grew thick, and the shadows in the room began to twist and stretch. Emily’s mind was racing, but all she could focus on was the overwhelming sense of dread that filled her chest. She knew—she knew with a certainty deep in her bones—that whatever these figures were, they were not human. She screamed, but it was as if the sound was swallowed by the darkness. To this day, no one knows what happened to Emily that night. The mansion was abandoned when authorities arrived, the table set for a meal, but no sign of anyone who had been there. And yet, some say that on stormy nights, if you listen closely, you can hear the sound of footsteps and the soft whispers of the last guest. Thanks for tuning in to StreamStories for tonight’s tale. What do you think? Was Emily’s curiosity her downfall, or was the house simply too powerful for anyone to escape? Drop your thoughts in the comments below, and be sure to hit that subscribe button if you haven’t already. We’ve got plenty more stories coming your way, each one darker and more twisted than the last. Sleep tight, and remember—sometimes it’s better not to answer an invitation.

Utilisation totale•

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Total économisé•

il y a un an

Féminin

Jeune

Réseaux Sociaux

Narration

Effacer

Énergique

Amical

Professionnel

Luminosité

309/500

Alimenté par Fish Audio S1

Échantillons - Hey everyone

Écoutez des exemples de génération présentant la qualité vocale et la polyvalence

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Échantillon 1

Welcome to our growing community of storytellers and listeners! Explore captivating personal journeys, thought-provoking discussions, and enchanting tales that spark your imagination. Join us for daily updates of inspiring content that connects and moves you. Subscribe now to begin your story-filled journey.

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Clyde

In the summer of 1937, Amelia Earhart embarked on her ambitious round-the-world flight. She was experienced, well-equipped, and confident. But somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, all contact was lost. What happened in those final hours remains one of aviation's greatest mysteries.

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horror narrator

The scratching started three days ago. At first, it was just in the walls, barely audible. But tonight, it's different. I can hear it moving across the ceiling, right above my bed. And now... now it's stopped directly overhead.

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Binta

birds demonstrate remarkable navigation abilities using earth magnetic field and visual landmarks during migration they can travel thousands of miles and return to exact same locations showing their extraordinary natural compass system

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Knightley

Você já ouviu aqueles sussurros na madrugada? Aquele som que parece vir de lugar nenhum, mas está em todo lugar. Os antigos diziam que certas horas da noite não nos pertencem. Algo ancestral caminha entre nós. Quer descobrir essa história? Me acompanhe nessa jornada sombria.

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horror story

The old music box seemed innocent enough when I found it in the attic. But each night at precisely 3 AM, it plays a melody I've never heard before. The tune grows louder, and in its reflection, I see shadows dancing without bodies.

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voz terror

As paredes do porão pulsavam com uma vida própria, exibindo veias negras que se contorciam como serpentes famélicas. O chão estava coberto de uma substância viscosa que parecia respirar, enquanto sombras dançavam nos cantos como espectros atormentados.

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Emily (horror)

Welcome to your shift at Pinewood Hospital's morgue. Rule 1: Never count more than 12 bodies. If you see 13, pretend you didn't. Rule 2: Ignore whispers from drawer 7. Rule 3: If the lights flicker at 3:15 AM, lock yourself in the break room until dawn.

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страшный

Анна замечает, что тени в её квартире стали длиннее обычного. Они движутся независимо от света, тянутся к ней когда она спит. Однажды утром она просыпается и видит, что её собственная тень сидит в кресле напротив кровати, наблюдая за ней.

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القتلة والمجرمون

The Black Dahlia, Los Angeles 1947. Elizabeth Short's mutilated body discovered, bisected and drained of blood. A beautiful aspiring actress turned horrific headline. Police searched, leads went cold, witnesses vanished into shadows. The killer's identity remains a haunting mystery. What secrets died with her?

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Bara voice☺️

Saviez-vous que le 15 mars 1967, le pétrolier Torrey Canyon s'est échoué sur les récifs des Seven Stones au large des côtes britanniques ? Cette catastrophe maritime a provoqué le déversement de 120,000 tonnes de pétrole brut, causant la première grande marée noire de l'histoire moderne. Si vous avez trouvé cette vidéo informative, suivez-nous pour plus de contenu géographique.

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Default Sample - Bara voice☺️

Default Sample - raul

La habitación está en penumbra, apenas iluminada por una vela moribunda. El espejo del rincón refleja sombras que no deberían estar ahí. Algo se mueve en su superficie, una figura oscura que no corresponde a tu reflejo. El aire se vuelve denso, pesado, como si algo invisible lo corrompiera.

Default Sample - Carmen

They think I'm gone but I'm still in the sewer waiting for justice because those girls lied about what happened to me. If you don't share my story with 15 others tonight then I will come for you while you sleep just like I promised.

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Détails techniques de la voix Hey everyone

Hey everyone fonctionne automatiquement avec plusieurs langues. L'IA détecte la langue de votre texte et génère une parole au son naturel.

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Les utilisateurs gratuits peuvent générer des clips plus courts, tandis que les plans payants prennent en charge des longueurs de texte étendues pour des livres audio, du contenu long et plus encore.

Générateur de Voix IA Hey everyone par Fish Audio

Hey everyone

Échantillons - Hey everyone

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Comment utiliser le générateur de voix Hey everyone

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Détails techniques de la voix Hey everyone

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Hey everyone