So we read The Crucible in English class, and this story is what my warped mind came up with after combining the play with the Ghost Rider. As there are at least three different kinds of entities speaking in this story, I will list the entities and what their dialogue looks like. While I don't believe that you need to have read or watched The Crucible before reading my story, I think it would help you understand why our main character is in his current situation. And now, without further ado, I give you the first chapter of the first ever Crucible/Ghost Rider crossover, Rider of Salem.
Italics: Spirit of Vengeance
"Bold": Ghost Rider
"Normal": Human
"Bolded Italics": Rider and Vengeance speaking as one
The last thing John Proctor remembered was being pushed off the platform as the noose tightened around his neck. Darkness fell across his vision, only to be replaced by an eerie blue light.
So, you're my newest host. Let me guess. Your daddy's dying of cancer, and so you sold your soul to save him, and became Mephistopheles's attack dog. John didn't know how to respond. What was that voice? Who was it coming from? I suppose I should introduce myself. Name's Vengeance. Full name is Spirit of Vengeance. Dunno why I was sent back in time to the here and now, but if you could enlighten me on recent events, I might be able to figure it out. John was stupefied. How was he supposed to tell Vengeance what happened? The blue light intensified, becoming a formless blue fire. As it did, Proctor could swear he felt someone or something roll its eyes at him. Just do what you normally do to talk, mortal. Sheesh, do I gotta explain this every time I get a different host?
"What do you mean by host, man? I do not understand what is happening. Please, sir, explain!" The farmer blinked. Did he just talk? But how? The flames chuckled at his outburst.
Oh, so the whole host part gets you, but not me being the incarnation of vengeance itself? You mortals, always full of surprises. Can't blame you, really, this would blow anyone's mind. Well, I'll tell what I know, and then we can compare notes, alright? John nodded his head, still bewildered at what was going on. Good. Now then, I am the Spirit of Vengeance. Every few years or so, a mortal finds themselves in a situation where they would sell their soul to save someone or something. That's when he appears. Mephistopheles.
"Who is this Mephistopheles? I have not heard his name before."
The mortals have many different names for him. Beelzebub, the Dragon, Lucifer, Satan-
"The Devil! Why is his unholy being part of this story? Tell me you do not work for such a dark being," John demanded. The flames chuckled again.
Gotta admit, you're faster than most mortals are with this tale. You have no idea how much time you just saved me. Proctor felt sick. He was conversing with the minion of the foulest, unholy, and sinful being to exist in God's creation. I wasn't done, mortal. The only reason I'm with the snake is because that's where He put me after Lucifer's fall from heaven. You see, mortal, I exist to prove a point to the Lord of the Flies. Do you wanna know why? John did not want to know why, but he had a feeling that Vengeance would tell him anyways. Every time ol' Mephistopheles made a deal and gave me a host, the mortal that hosted me broke away and did his own thing. I'm not his minion. I'm a thorn in his side, and if it were possible to damn me, then I'll be damned if he likes me. Your turn. John frowned, but considered the fact that Vengeance sounded sincere. Well, as sincere as fire can get. And so the farmer told the story of what happened in Salem, sparing the spirit no details, all the way up to his point of death.
"Speaking of which, why am I not standing before God to be judged?"
'Cause you ain't dead. John blinked. How was he not dead? He had been hanged, pushed off the platform; he had felt his neck snap…wait. He never felt his neck snap.
"Explain. How am I not dead?"
Time has been stopped in your world. This has happened before. Are you about to die?
"I am accused of witchcraft. If I had confessed to it, my life would have been spared. I refused the court's offer. My name is my own, and I would rather die than let it be used in a lie." For a third time since their meeting, the spirit chuckled.
Oh, I think you and I are gonna get along real well. To put it simply, you're in the moment right before the noose claims another life. Your life, specifically. Now tell me, mortal. If it were possible for you to keep your name and live, would you do it?
"As long as I am kept out of the lie, yes."
Well then, you got two choices. The first one is to accept me, and become my host. Result: you live, but for a price. The second is to reject being my host. Result: you die, and you go on to Judgment. John knitted his eyebrows together.
"What do you mean by price, sir? Do I have to give you my soul?"
Nothing so dramatic. Let's just say you won't be yourself, especially at night. Judgment will also be different when you do die. How different depends on what you do while hosting me. And before you ask, no, it's not possession, it is one spirit and one soul in the same body. Proctor pondered his options.
"Will I be able to see my wife again?"
Oh, you'll see her, but as for how'll she'll react to you surviving the noose…you'll just have to find out, won't you?
"I have to see her again; I must make sure she has not been harmed, for she is with child!" When Vengeance didn't respond, John was taken aback, thinking he had offended the spirit. Finally, Vengeance spoke again, though pauses happened many times, as though he were holding back.
She…is with…child? An innocent woman…with a baby on the way…and they would HANG HER?! This explosion of fury nearly deafened John. I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS, MORTAL! ACCEPT MY OFFER SO THAT WE MAY SHOW THESE "RIGHTEOUS" MEN JUST HOW CLOSE THEY ARE FROM FALLING INTO THE PIT! The blue flame extended towards him, forming a complete arm. John hesitated for the briefest of moments before accepting the outstretched, fiery limb. The flames engulfed him, and the world faded back into view.
The Ghost Rider had been reborn.
~~~~Line Break~~~~
As John Proctor was pushed off the platform, Cheever turned away. John had his chance, and he threw it away. Cheever walked towards his horse, intending to head home. He had just reached the horse when a collective shriek rose up from the crowd behind him. The deputy whipped back around, and saw a sight that filled him with terror.
John Proctor was not hanging from the noose that had been tied around his neck. Instead, a fiery skeleton wearing Proctor's clothes had replaced him, and was currently struggling against the rope. The skeleton broke free of the rope, and snapped the chains clasped on its wrist bones. Many screams and cries filled the air, all of them sending the same message using different words: Run, lest this demon get your soul. Cheever, however, could not move. His fear paralyzed him, even as the skeleton strode up to him. As it approached, Cheever could see that the bone that made the skeleton was blackened as though burned, and the eye sockets were different as well. They were shaped in a way that made it look like the skull was glaring. And it was glaring at him. Cheever fell to his knees, praying feverishly that he would not die tonight. Finally the skeleton had reached Cheever, and was looking down at his pathetic position. Cheever risked looking up at the fiery being of bone, and begged for his life. "P-please, d-do n-n-not kill m-m-m-me! I am an innocent man!" The skeleton responded to his plea by lifting him up by his shirt. It looked him straight in the eye, and spoke four words.
"So was Giles Corey."
"Mercy! Please!" The skeleton seemed to consider the deputy's words. Two small flames lit in its eye sockets. Cheever shuddered as a feeling colder than ice raced down his body. The skeleton spoke again.
"You...mostly...innocent." The skeleton dropped Cheever, who quickly scrambled away. The skeleton then approached Cheever's horse, who only looked at the skeleton; instinct told the equine to not move. The skeleton laid its bony hands on the horse's side, opened its mouth, and hissed. The horse shuddered and twitched as hellfire spread across its body, charring its mane and coat a burnt black. Its mane then caught on fire, as did its hooves and tail. The horse's eyes became similar to the skeleton's eyes, only the fire completely filled the horse's eye sockets. The horse reared back and let out a distorted whinny, then slammed its hooves into the ground, leaving small craters. Satisfied, the skeleton took a step back, then swung itself up and into the saddle, which had turned to metal and fused with the horse's back. "Don't mess up again. God may give second chances," the skeleton spoke, swinging its skull to look at Cheever. "But the Ghost Rider does not." With that, the Ghost Rider snapped the chain-link reins, and the Demon Stallion took off into the darkness of the early-morning twilight. It was only when the Rider left that Cheever was able to speak again.
"May God help us all."
Short chapter, but hey, not a bad start. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you when the next chapter comes up!
jsun25, logging off