Forrest Hills Cemetery. It had always had this odd smell to it. A mixture of a forest after rain and great-grandma's house. Moss had begun to grow on several of the older gravestones and some of them had been the targets of gangs "marking their territory". Spray painted and ruined. A memory marred.
Dan Ketch stood in front of one of the few untouched headstones. His heart was heavy as he looked down the grave, the final resting place of his sister Barbara. She died three years ago this night. This exact hour and minute. She had died, and Dan survived, and he hated himself for it. Why couldn't it of been him that died? Why her? A small tear formed in Dan's eye as he knelt down to place some flowers on the grave. A little bit of color in this drab place. As a tear splashed to the ground, the events of that night began to play themselves back in Dan's mind.
Barb had always loved to walk through the old cemetery, almost as if she were drawn to it and in fact, she was. Not just because of how dark and eerie it was at night but, for another reason. He was calling out to her.
One night, Dan had followed her on her walk. They laughed and joked a bit and eventually, stumbled where they shouldn't of. Dan was never entirely sure of what was going on that night. The men looked like they were making some sort of business deal. One of them had skin of white and it looked as if, where ever he went, darkness would follow. The other, hid in shadow. Dan knew, the moment the twig snapped under his heel, that they were in trouble. The shadowed man barked out a command to his guards while Dan and his sister ran for their very lives.
Their run may have bought them a few seconds of existence but, eventually the guards caught up to them ,and the reaper with Barb. Dan was lucky. The bodyguards had thought him dead when, in reality, Barb had protected her brother and took all the bullets herself. Dan sobbed as he cradled his sisters body, her innocent blood running freely onto him, and then, it found him. At first he thought it the other way around but, now Dan knows better. The motorcycle. Almsot instinctively, Dan reached out for it. He noticed as odd symbol on the glowing gas cap and couldn't help but, reach out for it, and touch it.
The flash lit the whole cemetery. The whit-skinned man cowered looking for cover, the light was too bright for him too handle. Soon the light faded and where once was a crying young man, now stood the spirit of vengeance, known through the ages as, The Ghost Rider, reborn yet again. The Rider quickly dispatched the body guards and made them feel the pain that they had inflicted on his family and others. The men curled up into a fetal position and whimpered and whined to themselves. To this day, they are still in the same position, and locked upin a mental institution.
The Rider, with his work that night accomplished, returned to the void. Dan stood, his sister's blood thick on his hands and clothes, as the police arrived an he told a slightly slanted version of the story to them.
Dan opened his eyes and stood. So much had changed since that night. Dan's mother couldn't handle things anymore. She was robbed of her baby girl. He r pride and joy. Barb always was her favorite. She turned to the bottle seeking it's comfort and slowly sank into depression and insanity.
It was revealed that the Rider was Noble Kale, a distant relative of Dan, and a curse on his family. A sin that he committed in his lifetime, had turned Kale into a restless spirit of vengeance. His duty was to protect the innocent and avenge their spilled blood. A duty that he hopes will bring him redemption, and forgiveness from the one he sinned against. His wife. He betrayed her and she was burned at the stake as a witch.
Everything was different now and things would never be the same again. Ever. Dan took one last look at the headstone.
"I miss you Barb."
With his words said, Dan's time was done and once again, a familiar glow lit the cemetery and the Ghost Rider rode into the night.
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