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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 9, 2010 21:56:50 GMT -5
Paul laughed as he and Caleb ran down the street after a late night at a local pub. Cal had parked his car in the wrong place and as a result it had been towed away. And since taxis did not run after two in the morning in this town, the two had no choice but to go back home by foot. Fortunately, it was not too far, only a few miles.
“Hey, look, Paul! It’s the Devil’s Cycle!” hollered Cal, still laughing from the last joke they had shared.
Paul turned his head and looked at a motorcycle that stood in the middle of the deserted street. He stopped dead in his tracks, frowning at the bike. It was pitch black and shiny, with polished chrome lining and handles. It was obviously in excellent condition, but most peculiarly was that the motor was running. He looked both ways of the street, but there was no one there except for them.
“Come on, let’s get back home,” muttered Paul, unnerved by the strange sight, but Cal walked towards the bike. Turning back to Paul, he was grinning; a gleam was in his eye that Paul knew meant trouble.
“Go for a ride Paul,” suggested the young man. “It’s The Devil’s Cycle—no one will miss it. Besides, it will probably disappear at dawn,” he added.
Paul grimaced. He had, of course, heard legends of a black and silver motorcycle that sometimes appeared in the middle of a deserted street in the dead of the night, but the other part of the story was that whoever rode it ended up selling their heart to the devil just by doing so. Either that or you disappeared mysteriously, never to be seen again. Go fig.
Cal seemed to remember these stories as well. “Come on, Paul, just ride it down the street or something; you know that those were just tales to scare us kids! No one is going to sell their soul anywhere.”
Paul shook his head. “No way, man, no way.”
Cal snorted. “I dare you! Either that, or Michael finds out that it was you who pulled the prank on him on Halloween last year!”
Paul regarded the bike with caution, but knew that if his friend Michael found out who pulled that prank, then he was in huge trouble. Sighing, he walked towards the bike, expecting to see a skeleton materialize out of thin air and grab him.
Stopping a foot away, he looked back at Cal, who had now backed up a few steps. “Are you really going to tell Mike about that prank?”
“Of course! Come on, just ride that thing!”
Paul hesitated, but then straddled the cycle and sat down. Checking to make sure there were no cops around to ticket him for riding without a helmet, he revved the motor; despite himself, he had to admit that he loved the feel of a powerful bike under him. He missed riding ever since he had stopped after a friend had died by falling from one, and now was his chance to ride one again, and a good one at that. Inhaling the crisp air, he flicked the stand up and hit the accelerator.
* * * watcha think? shud i continue?
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2010 21:59:13 GMT -5
i like yes keep going
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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 9, 2010 22:00:01 GMT -5
whoa, fast reply. okay, more in an hour or so, im gonna let some other ppl read it first
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shaybo
Fantastic Fan
Posts: 134
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Post by shaybo on Aug 9, 2010 22:02:46 GMT -5
I like it too.
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Post by laurenne on Aug 9, 2010 22:46:43 GMT -5
Sounds good.
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Post by celticbear on Aug 9, 2010 23:03:00 GMT -5
OPRINO! You are fast becoming a master storyteller, Please continue this story.
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Post by CelticLass91 on Aug 10, 2010 0:19:10 GMT -5
yep yep!
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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 11, 2010 0:17:07 GMT -5
i got upgraded to hero! ok, here we go...
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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 11, 2010 0:17:53 GMT -5
originally, i had one story written out, but i watched ghost rider with nicolas cage today and rewrote it, so im posting new version from now on.
didnt like the old one anyway.
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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 11, 2010 0:23:47 GMT -5
In a flash, he was off, flying down the empty street at an incredible speed. The wind whipped his face, and he had to squint to see anything in the sudden blast. He could vaguely hear Caleb whoop in the background, but pretty soon, all he could hear was the roar of the motor.
He loved it. The bike was amazing, the best he had ever ridden, and, against what his common sense was telling him, he sped up, hurtling down the street. As he neared the corner, he leaned to the side as instinct took ove rand he remembered being back on his own bike many years ago.
Never reducing his speed, Paul could feel his knee skimming the ground as he turned into the next street. Laughing, he allowed himself the freedom he had restricted himself from for so long, rising up on the back wheel and standing up, then leaning forward as he stood on one leg and swung the other over the seat. Twirling in a tight circle on that one back wheel, he sat down again normally and raced back towards the street corner, expecting to go around and return to Caleb.
But that plan suddenly changed when a figure dressed in black walked out into the middle of the road and turned, looking straight at Paul, and raised a hand in his direction.
There was a silver spark, and then the bike went out of control. Paul tried to avoid hitting the man, but the motorcycle was stuck or something, refusing to turn at all. Then, just as Paul contemplated going on the back wheel again to at least delay the inevitable, the bike stopped short, throwing Paul over the handle bars. Only his firm grip on them kept him from flying off.
Paul looked up at the man. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, black leather pants, black leather biker boots, and there were silver chains on his pants and boots, looping from pocket to pocket on the former and just across the outside top of the latter. He stood about six foot three, maybe four inches. Overall, he looked dangerous.
But then Paul got to his face, and that was when he realized just how dangerous he seemed.
His short black hair was windblown and he had a tough face, the kind you would expect to see on someone that spent a lot of time riding on a cycle without a helmet so that the wind had roughened it. But that was not what the scariest part about him was. It was his eyes.
Paul froze as he realized that he was looking into a pair that was literally like flames—flickering red and yellow filled the spaces, with only a thin rim of white around them. There seemed to be no bottom to them, and there was definitely no pupil at all, just a tiny, bright white vortex that the shimmering colors twisted into.
The man glared at him, and then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Well, well, well, who just decided to take a ride on my bike, eh?” He laughed, a coarse, ragged sound that raked through Paul’s body, scaring him even more. There seemed to be some truth to the legend after all, he thought.
The man smiled grimly. “Of course there is truth to that legend, fella; what did you think it was? A fairy tale?”
Can you read my thoughts? Wondered Paul, staring at the man.
The man nodded. “Yep, and your soul. It’s like a teen’s—too many practical jokes, wonderful sense of humor, but no evil in you. Just laughter and happiness.” He sounded almost disappointed as he said it. “Anyway, you know about the legend, so you know what the consequences are, true?”
Paul gaped at the man helplessly. Was the guy serious?! No way was he selling his soul for any reason whatsoever, especially if it was not his fault. Caleb should—
“Ah, no, lad; it was your fault you decided to go for a ride on this bike. Your friend suggested it, but you could have said no. So now, I’m sorry to tell you, you will have to give up your lovely nights and come work for me. As for sleep, this counts as a good night’s sleep, so no need to worry about having to catch up on it during the day. You start tomorrow, by the way.” He glanced up at the horrified young man. “I would have let you go on with your life a bit longer, but I need you now. There’s a certain fellow I need you to take care of, feel me?”
Paul stared at the man. “I-I can't kill anyone,” he whispered, shocked that it could even be suggested.
“Oh, I don’t mean kill him; I mean just control him.”
“I have no idea how.”
“Don’t worry—when you change, you will know. It comes naturally, believe me.”
Paul sat on the bike, thinking all of this over. “Do I get a choice?” he asked eventually.
The man shook his head. “Nope, afraid not. You rode my cycle, you take the consequences. You rode it for 34 seconds, now you will ride for me for 34 years. Now, keep that bike—you’ll need it, and it will change along with you as soon as you touch it. Clothes…well, you’ll get them tomorrow. They too will change with you. Everything you touch will be of fire, so expect that. It will hurt the first time, but after you learn how to control the fire in you, it will be a piece of cake.”
Paul sat still, thinking. Here he was, a famous singer, and he just got a weird job assignment that would take up the next 34 years of his life, whether he wanted to or not. And apparently, he was going to change into something at night, which would also make his evening concerts improbable. There was no way he could perform and be…something.
“Oh, by the way, you will only change if there is evil around. If there are only innocents around, then no harm to you—you’ll just be normal. But as soon as one single dirty soul appears in the audience, you can very easily turn into a fireball. And then—“
“A WHAT?!” Paul shrieked. “Are you kidding me? A fireball?”
“Yeah, figuratively speaking. Basically, you will still be in human form, but you will be on fire, literally. And…not sure how it is nowadays, but when I last found a Ghost Rider worthy and innocent enough to do the job, which was back…154 years ago, they were actually skeletons on fire. As in, bones,” he said with a twitch of his mouth. “A skeleton on fire with glowing eyes and dressed in leather clothing. You see, the clothing does not burn at all, so it stays intact. You with me so far?”
Paul nodded slightly, allowing all of this to sink into his head.
“Well, I think I’d better wrap it up now. I gave you all of the details already, and if I think of any more I’ll just pop by and tell you. Clothing comes tomorrow, and keep the bike. Now go back to your friend—time has frozen while we talked, so he will not think that you were away any more than the 34 seconds you decided to go for a ride. Have a good night,” he added cheerfully, grinning, and disappeared in a bright silver flash.
* * * heres what the bike looks like--and yes, it is the same as from teh movie. looks cool, tho, so im using it. i cud only find fire versions of it--- www.moviecitynews.com/arrays/images/2005/ghost_rider/bike.jpgclose-up--- hamaraphotos.com/albums300/userpics/10711/ghost-rider-bike.jpg
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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 11, 2010 0:27:04 GMT -5
if youve seen the movie, you will know what the clothes look like. just add a few more chains and you have my version.
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Post by celticbear on Aug 11, 2010 22:51:27 GMT -5
Ira love the new version. and Congrats on making Hero! Update when you can.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2010 23:18:04 GMT -5
Love it great update
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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 12, 2010 14:14:35 GMT -5
Paul sat still on the bike, trying to understand everything that has happened. Palming the chain necklace, he saw that it was a solid silver chain with a flat plate at one part about 3 inches long. On it, something was written in strange characters that he could not decode. Tucking it inside his shirt, he slowly drove back to where Caleb was still standing, grinning broadly.
“That was a wicked turn right there, Paul!” he exclaimed. “I could hear your tires screeching on the other side of that building! And see, no one bought your soul, right?” He laughed, slapping Paul on the back. “Now let’s go back; Dominique called, asking where you were.” He turned and walked off back down the street, leaving Paul to make up his mind.
What had just happened? He asked himself, driving along. If the guy had been serious, then he would have to leave, because no way would he be able to stay around those he knew while he was The Ghost Rider. 34 years…did I really just ruin my life for the next 34 years? Groaning, he drove back home.
* * *
The next day was different. As soon as they had come back home, Dominique had immediately known that something was wrong. But no matter how many times she asked him about it and hinted that she would like to know, he never gave in, not sure how he could break the news to her.
In the morning when he woke up, he slid out of bed carefully so as not to wake her, but froze when he saw that there was something weighing him down. Looking at the foot of the bed, he could see a pile of leather clothing. Grabbing it, he snuck over to the bathroom and tried it on, surprised by how easily and well it fit, as though it was custom-made.
It was a leather jacket, much like the one the guy had worn, with a silver zipper and three silver spiky studs on each of the shoulders. The gloves went up half-way to the elbow, and had more of those studs all over them, except for the palm. The pants were similar to the other ones the guy had worn, complete with silver chains, but there were a few more studs running along the thighs; again, they were on the outside of his leg, where they would not rub if he was riding the cycle. The boots were amazing, exactly the same as the other’s, and had studs on the toe, on top, and on the side. The sole was textured so that there was no chance that he could slip off of his cycle.
His cycle. He now thought of the Devil’s Cycle as his own. How ironic.
Snorting with disgust, he got out of the leathers and went back to bed, but could not find sleep again. When the alarm finally went off, though, he turned it off and pulled Dominique into his arms, wondering if he would be able to stay with her, or if the new assignment would force him to leave everyone he knew. Would he be able to do it? Or was he going to go crazy first? Shaking his head, he lay still, deep in thought until she woke up.
* * *
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Post by orinocoflow on Aug 12, 2010 18:11:12 GMT -5
no updates til someone reads it!
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