I do not own Scooby-Doo, nor do I own Friday the 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street.
They are owned by Hanna-Barbera and New Line Cinema respectively.
~…~ Prologue
"There's a curse on ol' Camp Crystal Lake; a horrible curse. Why, how or for what, I can't answer. A little boy who drowned, a vengeful mother, an undead juggernaut, and a whole lot of innocent people in between." Fred stared deep into the soul of the camera man. "After coming back from Spooky Island, we just wanted to relax, and not have to deal with innocent people being at risk from a guy with a mask, or bunch of people in alien costumes, you know? We were misinformed about Camp Forest Green. We were told it was just a quiet little summer camp, no one told us of the horrible murders that took place just beyond the lake."
"Fred, how did you all make it out in one piece?"
Fred grabbed Daphne's arm. Together, they looked to Velma and Shaggy, and little Scooby slumped over his master.
"We didn't. Mystery Inc. is broken."
"What do you mean?"
"When we got to Camp Crystal Lake, when we saw the destruction and the rubble and the ashes, we knew we had just entered our deadliest case. The discarded bodies that couldn't have been dead for more than a week and the sign that someone had been there hours before we arrived were just too much for some of us. Shaggy especially suffered the most."
Shaggy's tall, lanky body flinched, and everyone saw. Velma wrapped herself around him and Scooby scooted closer. Fred cleared his throat and continued into the microphone,
"This night has been a long one, for all of us. The story I'm about to tell you is not a story about four kids solving a mystery, not anymore. It's a warning, to anyone who goes out there, to anyone who is seeking thrills or to tourists who want a good time. Do not go to Camp Crystal Lake."