The Final Broadcast

The "Specter Seekers" had made a name for themselves online — a group of four friends chasing whispers in abandoned asylums, crumbling houses, and forgotten towns. Their videos were theatrical enough to keep viewers hooked: static-filled EVP sessions, shadowy figures barely visible through flickering flashlights, and plenty of staged jump-scares.

But beneath it all, none of them truly believed in ghosts.

That changed on a cold October night at Black Hollow Manor.

The mansion sat alone at the end of a rotted road, draped in vines and leaning slightly to the left, like it was trying to whisper something to the ground. Rumors said its last owner, Eliza Merriweather, was a reclusive woman who dabbled in occult practices after the tragic deaths of her husband and two children. Locals refused to step foot near the place. The group, sensing viral gold, eagerly set up a livestream.

Cory, the leader, manned the main camera, striding confidently into the entryway. Behind him followed Jess, their tech wizard; Mike, who handled the jokes; and Nina, whose nervous energy had become the group's charm.

“Alright, guys," Cory said, grinning into the lens, "tonight, we’re doing a full lockdown in the infamous Black Hollow Manor. No edits. No fake scares. Let’s see if Eliza wants to say hello."

In the main hall, the chandelier hung at a crooked angle, dust swirling through their flashlight beams. Jess set up stationary cameras in the parlor and dining room, motion sensors along the creaking stairs, and a spirit box in the study.

By 2:00 a.m., the house had already given them plenty of material: thudding footsteps upstairs, doors creaking open on their own, distant sobbing — all the classic signs.

Mike laughed nervously after a particularly loud bang from the kitchen. "C'mon, Jess. You rigged something, right?"

Jess, adjusting the thermal cam, shook her head. "Not this time. I swear."

Nina clung to the EMF reader, which had been spiking wildly. "Maybe we should wrap it up. I don't like this."

"That's the point," Cory said, forcing a grin. "Fear sells."

They moved into the dining room for a séance — Jess’s idea. She set up the spirit board, and they all placed their fingers lightly on the planchette.

"If there are any spirits here," Cory said dramatically, "make yourself known."

The planchette twitched.

Everyone laughed nervously, exchanging glances.

"Who's moving it?" Mike asked.

"No one," Nina whispered.

The planchette slowly spelled:

S T A Y

A door slammed upstairs.

Jess jumped. "Maybe... Maybe we should check it out?"

Cory, trying to keep the mood light, agreed. They left the dining room, the stationary camera still rolling behind them.

Upstairs, the air grew colder, their breath visible in pale clouds. They reached the nursery — a room untouched by time. Toys sat neatly on shelves; a mobile spun slowly above a crib. The EMF reader screamed.

The camera feed flickered. Static buzzed in their earpieces.

“Cory…” Nina hissed, pulling at his sleeve. “Look.”

The mobile had stopped spinning — now it turned the other way.

The camera caught it all.

Suddenly, a soft voice filled the room, a child's whisper:

"Stay... play..."

Jess dropped the thermal camera. It hit the floor with a heavy crack. Mike cursed under his breath.

“Was that... real?” he said, his bravado slipping.

“Guys, we need to go,” Jess said, gathering her gear. “This place isn’t right.”

As they turned to leave, they saw it: a figure standing at the end of the hall. It was a woman, her face gaunt, eyes hollow black pits, her mouth sewn shut with jagged, rusted wire. A twisted lullaby hummed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Cory lifted the camera with shaking hands. "Who’s there?" he croaked.

The figure didn’t move.

Instead, the house moved.

Doors slammed. Lights exploded. The hallway stretched impossibly long, twisting like a living thing. The floor groaned under their feet as they bolted toward the stairs, but with each frantic step, the figure seemed closer — impossibly, absurdly close.

Mike screamed as something invisible yanked him backwards. He disappeared into a side room, the door slamming shut behind him with a sickening finality.

“Mike!” Jess shrieked, pounding on the door. No answer. Only a wet, dragging noise from the other side.

"Keep moving!" Cory barked, grabbing Jess and Nina by their arms.

The front door — their salvation — stood ahead, barely cracked open.

Nina was the first to reach it, wrenching it wide —

Only to find blackness beyond. Not night. Not fog. Nothing. A blank, endless void.

She backed away, screaming, her mind refusing to process it.

Behind them, the figure was still coming, unhurried but inevitable.

Jess clutched her chest, gasping. “I— I can’t — ”

She dropped to her knees, choking. A thick, black mist oozed from her mouth, her eyes rolling back.

Cory and Nina fled up the stairs, the only direction left. They staggered into the attic, slamming the trapdoor shut behind them.

The attic was suffocatingly small, filled with broken mirrors and rotting trunks. Cory frantically tried to find another way out, but Nina just curled into a ball, sobbing.

The livestream was still running, broadcasting every second to their horrified viewers.

Then the whispering started again.

Hundreds of voices, clawing at their sanity:

"Stay with us..." "Forever..." "No escape..."

Cory spun around, camera in hand — and froze. Every mirror reflected a different version of him: dead, decaying, screaming. Some with mouths missing. Some with eyes gouged out. Some with strings pulling them like puppets.

Nina shrieked as invisible hands yanked her backward into the shadows. She fought, kicked, screamed — and vanished. Gone.

Cory was alone.

The camera slipped from his hand, clattering onto the dusty floor.

The last thing the livestream caught before cutting to static was Cory’s own face, frozen in terror — and behind him, Eliza Merriweather reaching out with stitched fingers to drag him into her eternal home.

No one ever found them.

The Specter Seekers' final video racked up millions of views. Some say if you watch it at exactly 3:00 a.m., you can hear their screams still echoing from the Black Hollow Manor.

And if you listen closely enough…

You might hear something whisper back.

Stay.