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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.