As the moon climbed higher into the night sky, the Puritan village of Oakhaven was shrouded in an eerie quiet. A handful of tourists lingered, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the witch's ghost they had come to see.
"Come on, we've been waiting here for an hour. The ghost is a no-show," one frustrated tourist grumbled.
"Maybe she'll make an appearance at the concert tomorrow," another suggested, rolling their eyes.
Disappointed, the small crowd began to disperse, leaving the village silent and still—save for the Scooby gang, who remained behind.
"Too bad," Ben Ravencroft said with a sigh, watching the tourists leave. "I was hoping to have a little chat with my ghostly ancestor. I wanted to ask her where she hid her journal."
Daphne, sensing Ben's obsession, exchanged a glance with Fred. "Boy, Ben seems pretty obsessed with that book," she remarked softly.
"I'll say," Fred agreed, his tone light but eyes sharp, always observant.
Ben, catching the tail end of their conversation, turned back to the group. "We should probably head out too. There's no sign of her tonight."
"Hold on, Ben," Daphne interjected, her hand gently brushing Fred's arm as she took a step closer to Ben. "We should give it a chance. We've come all this way."
"Yeah," Fred added, his usual curiosity bubbling up. "It's probably just a hokey bedsheet on a wire or something. Could be funny to see."
Meanwhile, across town at the Oakhaven Restaurant, Shaggy and Scooby emerged from the cozy warmth of the dining room, their bellies full to bursting.
"Thanks for everything, Jack," Shaggy called over his shoulder, a satisfied grin on his face. "It was great—especially those last twelve pies."
Jack, now slumped over a mountain of dishes the duo had left behind, managed a weak smile. "Uh, glad you liked them."
As they waddled down the now-deserted streets of Oakhaven, Shaggy patted his round stomach. "Like, was that good eating or what, Scoob?"
"Yeah!" Scooby agreed, a satisfied burp escaping his lips. "Excuse me."
Shaggy chuckled, glancing around. "Gee, looks like everybody's leaving. Wonder if the ghost showed up."
The once bustling village was now eerily quiet, the only sound their footsteps echoing against the cobblestone.
"Like, with no one here, this place is almost spooky, Scoob," Shaggy whispered, laughing nervously.
"Yeah," Scooby chuckled, his eyes darting around anxiously. Then he paused, his ears perking up. "Raggy… footsteps!"
Shaggy froze, his blood running cold as he turned to see three shadows approaching from a distance. The figures were vaguely feminine, their outlines blending with the night.
"Like, look, Scoob! Girls!" Shaggy whispered excitedly, slicking back his hair.
"Yeah, girls!" Scooby echoed, mimicking Shaggy's movements as they prepared to greet the figures.
As the shadows drew closer, the dim light revealed their faces—three girls, pale and somber, dressed in gothic attire. Something about them felt off, and it wasn't just their ghostly appearance. The girls looked intense, almost otherworldly, but certainly not supernatural beings with glowing eyes. They were just… different.
"Like, hi, girls," Shaggy greeted them, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Hi," the girls replied in unison, their voices carrying a strange, hypnotic rhythm.
But the moment was shattered as the realization of their odd appearance sank in. Shaggy and Scooby's eyes widened in fear, and without another word, they turned tail and bolted down the street, screaming as they fled.
They ran until their legs ached, finally skidding to a halt in a quiet alley.
"I think we lost them, old buddy," Shaggy panted, leaning against a wall.
"Yeah," Scooby gasped, nodding vigorously. But then he frowned, his stomach rumbling loudly. "Raggy, I'm hungry again."
Shaggy groaned, but before he could respond, a cold wind blew through the alley, sending shivers down their spines. From the darkness came an eerie, mocking laugh—the unmistakable sound of the witch's ghost.
"Yikes!" Shaggy and Scooby screamed, their feet pounding against the pavement as they ran for their lives.
Behind them, the ghostly figure of Sarah Ravencroft materialized, her long, flowing robes billowing around her. Her voice echoed through the night as she conjured fireballs from thin air, hurling them at the fleeing duo.
"Like, it's every coward for himself, Scoob!" Shaggy yelled, taking a sharp turn—only to crash headfirst into Fred, who was leading the rest of the gang toward them.
The collision sent both groups tumbling to the ground. Fred instinctively grabbed for Daphne as they fell, ending up with her beneath him as they landed in a heap.
"Oof!" Daphne gasped, momentarily stunned. She looked up to see Fred's face inches from hers, concern etched on his features.
"Daph, are you okay?" Fred asked, his voice low and worried as he held her gaze.
Daphne managed a small smile, despite the situation. "Yeah, Freddy. But, um, you might want to move. We're kind of… in a compromising position here."
Fred blinked, realizing he was practically lying on top of her. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly rolled to the side, offering her a hand to help her up. "Sorry about that."
"No problem," Daphne replied, her voice tinged with warmth as she took his hand and got to her feet.
Meanwhile, Velma helped Shaggy and Scooby up, noting their terrified expressions. "What's going on, guys?"
"Rhost!" Scooby barked, his paws trembling as he pointed frantically down the street.
"A roast?" Ben asked, clearly confused as he stepped closer to Velma.
Shaggy shook his head, his voice trembling. "No, man—a witch's ghost!"
"You saw the witch's ghost?" Velma asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and fascination.
"Yeah!" Scooby confirmed, still shaking as he tried to mimic the ghost's menacing cackle.
Fred's expression grew serious. "So, where is the ghost? Can you show us?"
Shaggy's face went pale. "Like, do we have to? SHE THROWS FIREBALLS, MAN!" The gang gave him a stern look to which he rolled his eyes.
Shaggy, still jittery, pointed with a trembling hand down the street. "Like, it was down there."
The gang moved cautiously, following Shaggy's lead until they reached the spot where he claimed to have seen the ghost. But the street was empty—no sign of the witch, the three strange girls, or any supernatural activity.
"There's no one here now," Daphne observed, scanning the area.
Shaggy sighed in relief but then frowned. "We thought we'd gotten away from those three witches when the ghost started chasing us from down there."
"Three witches?" Ben repeated, his brow furrowing.
"Hmm… you said she threw fireballs, right?" Velma asked, her analytical mind already working through the details.
Shaggy nodded vigorously, pointing to his singed shirt. "It was like this, Velma—but a thousand times worse."
Velma knelt down, examining the ground. "Is this the street where she chased you guys?"
"Like, don't remind us," Shaggy muttered, his whole body shuddering at the memory.
Fred, always on the lookout for clues, noticed something odd about the trees lining the street. "Hey, check out these branches. They're all broken from the tops of these trees."
"And in a perfectly straight line," Daphne added, her eyes narrowing as she followed the path of the broken branches.
Velma nodded, her expression intrigued. "This is getting interesting, Ben."