The Last WhatsApp Seen
The message arrived at 2:17 AM.
Ali didn’t notice it at first.
Nobody does — not when it comes that late.
He was asleep, phone charging beside his pillow, ceiling fan making a slow ticking noise above him. Outside, the village road was silent except for distant dogs barking — the kind of bark that carries across empty fields at night.
Then the phone vibrated.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
Not a call.
WhatsApp notifications.
Ali groaned, eyes still closed, and grabbed his phone without looking. He expected a friend from the university group sending memes or late-night reels.
Instead, he saw a name he hadn’t seen in 2 years.
Hamza (Last seen 2 years ago)
Ali froze.
He sat upright immediately.
His heart didn’t start racing yet — not fear.
Just confusion.
Because Hamza couldn’t message him.
Hamza was dead.
The Boy Who Disappeared
Two years earlier, the whole area had known the story. It had spread across WhatsApp statuses, Facebook groups, and local news pages. Even now, if you searched:
“missing person mystery Pakistan village boy 2023”
…you’d find articles about him.
Hamza Qureshi.
Age: 19
Status: Missing (Presumed dead)
He disappeared from an abandoned house on the edge of the canal road — a place locals called:
“The Accountant’s House.”
A real haunted house according to every elder in the village.
Hamza and Ali had been best friends since childhood. They went to the same school, same tuition, same cricket ground.
And Hamza was the one person who did not believe in ghosts.
Until that night.
He had gone there with two other boys, making a YouTube video:
“Exploring a haunted house at 3AM — real paranormal activity?”
They livestreamed for 18 minutes.
The video ended with Hamza hearing footsteps upstairs.
He went to check.
And never came back.
No body.
No scream.
No sound.
The two boys ran out screaming, claiming:
“Something was walking inside the walls.”
Police searched for 3 days.
Nothing.
The case quietly closed.
The Message
Ali stared at his phone screen.
The WhatsApp chat — inactive for two years — now showed:
1 new message
His fingers felt cold.
He opened it.
The message was only three words.
“I found the door.”
Ali felt a strange pressure inside his ears — the kind you feel when an elevator drops.
He immediately checked the profile picture.
It was Hamza.
The same old photo — sitting on a bike, smirking.
No “online” indicator.
No last seen update.
Just that message.
Ali typed:
“Who is this?”
Seen.
Immediately.
Three dots appeared.
Typing…
Then stopped.
Typing again.
Then the second message came.
“You didn’t come back for me.”
Ali’s breathing became shallow.
Because only two people knew that.
Him and Hamza.
The Secret Ali Never Told
The night Hamza disappeared…
Ali was supposed to go with him.
He cancelled at the last minute because he had a fever.
But the truth?
He got scared.
Hamza had called him from outside the haunted house.
Ali still remembered the call perfectly:
“You’re really not coming? Don’t be a coward bro.”
Ali lied.
“I actually have fever.”
Hamza laughed.
“Fine. When I meet the ghost I’ll tell him you said salam.”
That was the last time Ali heard his voice.
He never told anyone he chickened out.
Not even Hamza’s parents.
And now —
The phone buzzed again.
The Photo
A new message.
An image.
Ali hesitated.
His thumb hovered over the download icon.
He didn’t want to open it.
But he did.
The image loaded slowly.
Dark.
Grainy.
Taken in low light.
It showed a staircase.
Broken wooden steps.
Peeling walls.
And at the bottom of the stairs…
A pair of shoes.
Ali’s stomach dropped.
They were Hamza’s sneakers.
The same ones he wore in the YouTube livestream.
And beneath the photo was a caption:
“Still here.”
Ali immediately called the number.
Ringing.
Ringing.
Then silence.
No call picked.
But WhatsApp showed:
Online
Then…
Another message:
“Come before sunrise.”
The Cursed Phone
Ali tried to think logically.
Someone was pranking him.
Someone got Hamza’s old SIM card.
But there was a problem.
That SIM had been buried with his belongings.
And the number had been permanently deactivated.
Ali knew this because he himself went with Hamza’s older brother to the telecom office.
His hands were shaking now.
He opened Hamza’s old YouTube video.
The livestream.
He skipped to the final minute.
Hamza’s voice echoed in the recording:
“Wait… do you hear that?”
Footsteps upstairs.
Then a faint knocking sound.
Then Hamza said something that Ali never noticed before…
He whispered:
“There’s a door behind the wall.”
The stream cut.
Ali felt cold sweat down his back.
His phone vibrated again.
Another message.
“I can hear you watching.”
3:11 AM
He picked it back up slowly.
Another message appeared.
“Don’t bring anyone.”
Then:
“It doesn’t like crowds.”
Ali typed with trembling fingers:
“Where are you?”
The reply came instantly.
A location pin.
He opened it.
The map zoomed in.
Canal Road.
The Accountant’s House.
The same haunted house where Hamza vanished.
Then the final message:
“I’m not alone anymore.”
At that exact moment —
Ali heard something outside his bedroom window.
A soft tapping.
Three knocks.
…on the glass.
He turned.
Slowly.
And saw a silhouette standing outside.
On the second floor window.
Ali dropped the phone.
