From eco@passport.ca Sat May 8 17:51:54 1999 Date: 19 Apr 1995 00:42:42 -0400 From: Ryan Breedon Newsgroups: alt.gothic Subject: Varney Here's something a little long for the kids. I know I'll be flamed to hell. Call me masochistic. VARNEY THE VAMPYR -dedicated to quantum-goths everywhere- The night is cold, seems acrid, bitter. She hurries down the street, her modest neighborhood asleep, clutching her keys as a child would her blanket. The footsteps behind her, faint, perceptible. She hurries. The cars, even, seem asleep, remote. She glances over her shoulder but the street is empty. The footsteps cease momentarily. A laugh is heard, close. She turns and begins to run. Her house is at the end of the street. Visions of made-for-TV rape movies and sombre news reporters fill her head. She screams out soundlessly in fear. She reaches the door. She opens it. She slams it behind her. She bolts the lock. When the girl turns around, he is there. He stands rigidly, draped in a black velvet cloak trimmed with deep purple. His gaze is entrancing. In his eyes, the secrets to a thousand worlds, a thousand pleasures. She wants more than anything to run, but cannot. She is his. The kiss from a vampire is the most enthralling event imaginable. Thoughts, tastes, scents, feelings and visions dance through each mind, locked together in ecstasy and death. A small part of one dies with the other; a small part of the dying lives on forever. He takes her by the shoulders, and slowly lower his mouth to her neck. His fangs, trademark of his kind, are bared. And he bites her. That is, he would have bitten her, were it not for the unfortunate incident with the teeth. The point at which they touched her skin was the point at which they lost their points. Better put; the canines and gums had an unfortunate disagreement. Better still, the fucking things broke. Why they broke off isn't all that relevant. It can be assumed, one would suppose, that a steady diet of blood does not allow for a huge calcium intake which leads to healthy skin and bones, but still...! Consider though that basic plot devices are more or less left up to the Author through the facade of a Narrator; and so while the Reader is given free reign over inflection of voice, expressions on face and other small details, if the Narrator says that the teeth broke, THEY BROKE. End of discussion. What did you expect? From the beginning, there was a tense, thick atmosphere--thick enough to cut with a knife [or a fang] as they say. It could have gone any way--real-life melodrama [rape], police mystery [murder]...could have even been the strange start to a beautiful romance ["I wanted to eat your bowels but now I love you"]. But by the line "A kiss from a vampire..." things had gone too far; a good tooth-breaking was really necessary to move things along. That is to say, a *good* breaking of teeth was NECESSARY. Necessary, that is. As in critical. 'Varney the Vampire' was perhaps the first sort-of modern vampire story written in English. Over a thousand chapters long, it was a 'penny dreadful'--so called because it was considered trash fiction, and each installment cost one penny [hence the incredible length of Authors like Dickens--not everyone eats blood full-time, you know]. Anne Rice, along the same lines, could be a "Six-Ninety-Nine-Plus-GST-and-PST [in Ontario] Dreadfuls". The analogy is the same. I [that is "I"--Ryan Breedon or fictitious Narrator?] had the curious fortune the other day to have an aspiring novelist tell me "Anne Rice is the greatest Author of this century". I laughed in his face. Beckett? Joyce? Calvino? Varney stands before her, stunned. She looks at him, frozen. Two tiny ivory spokes, a drops of blood on each, litter the floor. The sentences feel short and punched. And she begins to laugh. The laughing was not so much a reaction to a humorous event as a hysterical release of tension. Still, it was understandably difficult for Varney the Vampyr [herein after referred to as "Varney the Toothless Vampyr"] to see things in quite this way. He saw this as a direct attack on his ego, akin to ridiculing his genitalia. 'Lestat', it should be noted, is basically a delusional rapist archetype. Distraught, he fled from the girl's home, leaving her laughing, crying, shaking uncontrollably. A note about tense shifts: present tense seems to indicate tension, urgency, uncertainty. The plot, such as it is, could go any way from here. Past tense seems more suited to obtrusive/intrusive Narrator. What would Anne Rice use? Who cares. *The Reader is required to accept a lapse or delay in time, a progression...* The night is cold, seems acrid, bitter. She hurries down the street, her modest neighborhood asleep, clutching her keys as a child would her blanket. The footsteps behind her, faint, perceptible. *Repetition Skipped* When the girl turns around, he is there. He is the picture of darkness, a billowing darkness against the darkness of the night, his chiseled features the epitome of blank sophistication. More than anything else, she wants to run, but cannot. She is drawn to him. Slowly, he pulls her into his chest, slowly, and moves his mouth toward her neck. She is frozen. He open his toothless mouth-- [and what?] --and pulls out a finely honed stiletto blade, with which he slits her throat, opening a gaping wound from which to feed his immortal evil. [NO! Try] --and pulls out a corkscrew, with which he drills into her neck, leaving a gaping wound from which to drink the blood. [or perhaps] --and pulls out an election ballots, and right in front of her casts a vote for Preston Manning's Reform Party. The girls dies instantly. [that shouldn't be such a big shock. Wasn't it Karl Marx who so effectively demonstrated that Capitalists are Vampires?] Eco ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------- Copyright 1995. Permission granted to reproduce wherever, so long as you send me a copy! [or pay me...even better!] snail mail to: RB RR#4 Alliston Ontario, Canada L9R 1V4