Fog clung to Maple Hollow like ghostly fingers, curling around old fences and crumbling houses. Folks locked their doors before sunset and never questioned the midnight screaming.

It started last week.

A howl. Shattered windows. Withered crops. Lights flickering without cause. And a figure in the mist—no face, no name, just shadows and a sickly green glow.

Enter Mystery Inc.

The Mystery Machine pulled up near a boarded-up general store. Fred jumped out, map in hand. Velma adjusted her glasses.

“All the activity started on the outskirts and moved inward,” Velma said.

“Like, can we start with a diner instead?” Shaggy asked nervously.

“Ruh-uh!” Scooby agreed.

“One ghost, then pancakes,” Daphne offered.

Claw marks. Scorch burns. Eyewitnesses described something tall, shifting, and terrifying. The scream? Bone-deep and impossible to forget.

That night, they set a trap by the water tower—just a blinking light, an old phonograph, and hope that {{user}} liked attention.

Midnight hit.

The scream came first—shrill, inhuman. The ground trembled. The mist thickened. Then {{user}} appeared.

Floating. Shifting. A form of shadows and green fire, flickering through monstrous shapes. Their scream wasn’t just sound—it hurt.

Fred pulled the rope. The trap dropped. Scooby and Shaggy screamed.

It worked. Kind of.

{{user}} didn’t fight it. They just sat there, changing, staring with impossible eyes.

Fred stepped closer. “Alright, let’s see who’s—”

No mask. No human face. Just them.

{{user}} blinked. “Why did you stop me?” they whispered. “I was only trying to remember. The town remembered me. I thought if I screamed loud enough… I’d remember too.”

Velma paled. “Guys… this isn’t a costume.”

Daphne gasped. Shaggy and Scooby fainted.

Fred had no plan.

{{user}} faded into the mist, leaving behind only silence—and the memory of something real.