Disclaimer: "Scooby-Doo" and all related characters, elements and indicia are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera.
Chapter One – Lucky Seven
A bedraggled dog with a blue collar and a rather scruffy man stumbled over their own feet in an attempt at what you might call running. You may or may not call it that; for the way their flailing limbs twirled in the air, you might think that the pair were dancing the cha-cha-cha, or some other physical exercise that if you had known the two, you would realise they would never partake in.
But, nonetheless, with their panic-stricken faces, they ran. And they ran fast (considering they had just eaten a Monster Meal from the cute little inn they had found on the corner).
"Why is it always me?" the shabby man shouted, his shoes sliding on the mud. It would have been rather a pleasant jog if it weren't for the fact that he had never taken ice-skating lessons.
The dog replied indignantly: "Rhat rarout re?" He dug his claws in to stop himself from skidding on the wet ground, but this wasn't much use.
"All right, why is it always us? We wind up going to some creepy place where someone's being haunted by a ghost…"
"Reah!" the dog replied, liking where this was going. Complaining about creepy things was his third favourite pastime. After eating and hanging out with his best friend, of course.
They came to a rather run-down old building. The type you get ghosts of past-gone inn keepers who has come back to haunt that cheapskate who weaselled him out of a night's stay fee.
"And Fred ends up saying, 'Let's split up'…" the man continued, not bothering in his rage to notice the thundering footsteps – well, they would have been footsteps, if it weren't for the fact that whatever it was had no feet – that were getting nearer and nearer.
"Reah!" the dog replied enthusiastically. His collar jangled as he glanced wearily behind them. As much as he liked arguing about their rights as the scaredy cats of Mystery Inc., he couldn't help but feel that they wouldn't have any rights – or any life, for that matter – if the monster-phantom thing caught up with them.
"…And wewind up being chased by some galloping ghoulie!" he shouted, stumbling over some unkempt bushes in the front garden of the inn. "Like, this time the bodacious baddie has some sort of crazy weapon thing!" Indeed, the monster was wielding a mining pick expertly. It was, after all, a mining town.
"Rouble… uh, ripple reah!" the dog barked back. He ran up the crumbling stairs on lightning paws and watched as his companion clambered up behind him. A for sale sign was stuck over the doors – which, surprisingly, stayed upright despite years of neglect – and the man tried to rattle the handle free.
"Why couldn't we get involved with kids who chase after food festivals or bake-offs?" the man asked. He was on a roll. The dog had no answer to this, and instead stood back-to-back with the man in the green shirt to make sure the monster was more than ten feet away. He wasn't, because most dogs don't have an innate sense of distance (well, faced with death, most people wouldn't) but it made him feel better all the same.
"I wish I'd never heard of ghosts, or phantoms, or Mystery Inc.!" the man continued to rattle the handle fruitlessly. The monster was, the dog calculated, rather less than ten feet away now. He figured that seven was still a comfortable number. It rhymed with heaven too! Yes, seven was definitely a nice number.
He began to dream of the delectable, salty biscuit that was a Scooby Snack. He wondered if there were any in heaven. He wondered if heaven allowed dogs because, of course, some idiotic hotel managers thought dogs to be unclean. Something this dog definitely did not think of himself as.
He had little time to ponder this further as the ghoul was almost on top of them. The dog put his paws together, ready to meet his delicious doom.
And then… the floor fell in.
"Ahhhhhhh!" the man screamed.
"Rooooooooooo!" the dog howled.
Bits of rotten wood plunged with them into the darkness below. And with a spectacular crash, the pair fell head-first into a pile of assorted junk.
They lay there for a few seconds, groaning and trying to figure out what had just happened. The man sat up, a badminton racquet sticking out of his mustard-brown hair. The dog picked out pieces of a broken blind from his paws. A spasm rocked his hind leg that pushed on a half-dead radio that spluttered to life before fading. A shattered lava lamp lay on the floor, covering the wood with a sticky orange slime.
The man stood up, rubbing his back. He grabbed his dog by the paw, going up a nearby set of stairs. Unfortunately, the stairs were also rather rotten, and broke under his weight.
"Watch that first step, Scoob, it's a doozy! So like, where are we anyway?" his eyes were still adjusting to the dim light.
"Reepy rase-rent!"
"A creepy basement is no place for us! There's some light up ahead. Let's try that way!" he suggested, running towards the source of the light, dog in tow.
The passage led to the back door. Moonlight streamed through the window and illuminated the travel flyers pinned to the wall. The man tugged at the handle but it was locked tight.
"Scooby! Like, what are we going to do?"
Scooby wasn't listening. He had spied a set of dull keys hung up on the wall next to the posters. "Raggy! Rook!"
Shaggy waved a hand absentmindedly in Scooby's direction. "Not now, Scoob! I'm trying to think!" Which was a rare occurrence for him. He usually let Velma or Fred do the thinking for him.
Scooby rolled his eyes and jangled the keys in his companion's face. "Reys!"
Shaggy's eyes lit up. "Scoob! You're a genius!" The dog looked smug and handed the keys over. Shaggy shoved the first key into the lock and turned. Nothing. The second and third ones were the same. Zip. Nada. Fourth? Zero. Fifth? Completely useless. Sixth? Shaggy was getting nervous. He didn't know whether or not the ghoul had fallen in with them or not. He hadn't heard anything, but then again, phantoms had a rather annoying habit of sneaking up on you when you least expected it.
He tried the seventh one. It worked! Scooby gave him the thumbs-up sign as they opened the door and ran outside. Scooby decided that seven was definitely his new lucky number.
Just to be sure, Shaggy took the keys with him and locked the door behind them. He chucked the keys into the bushes before following his canine friend away from the creepy inn.