Varney the Vampire Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: On a dark and stormy night, a vampire attacks a girl in her bedroom. There is also plenty of contradictions and purple prose.

Want to read Varney the Vampire? All 237 chapters can be found here.

The solemn tones of an old cathedral clock have announced midnight – the air is thick and heavy – a strange, death-like stillness pervades all nature.

Because Heaven forbid something ominous happens on a bright and sunny day.

Like the ominous calm which precedes some more than usually terrific outbreak of the elements, they seem to have paused even in their ordinary fluctuations, to gather a terrific strength for the great effort.

The forces of evil aren’t slackers! They are industrious!

It started thundering outside.

Like a signal gun for the battle of the winds to begin, it appeared to awaken them from their lethargy,

Who knew that evil needs a good kick in the ass?

and one awful, warring hurricane swept over a whole city, producing more devastation in the four or five minutes it lasted, than would a half century of ordinary phenomena.

Mary Sue Rule # 18: Everything in the plot MUST revolve around the Sue.

A zombie apocalypse? Demons emerging from the netherworld to rape and pillage? An alien invasion?

You know what they all have in common? They are all attracted to a Mary Sue’s awesomeness.

It was as if some giant had blown upon some toy town, and scattered many of the buildings before the hot blast of his terrific breath;

For a story that was supposed to be scary, it is as frightening as a litter of kittens.

Now the storm has stopped and everything is “as still and calm as before.”

Sleepers awakened, and thought that what they had heard must be the confused chimera of a dream. They trembled and turned to sleep again.

Because people would be sleeping soundly during a fucking HURRICANE.

All is still – still as the very grave. Not a sound breaks the magic of repose.

1. Where do I start?
2. The thunder is described as being like gunfire and the wind is so strong that it wakes people up.
3. But now everything is “still as the very grave.”
4. This makes ZERO sense because hurricanes are NEVER quiet.

What is that – a strange pattering noise, as of a million fairy feet?

Who knew that faeries were obnoxious little shits?

It is hail – yes, a hail-storm has burst over the city.

You can’t have a dark and ominous atmosphere by likening a hail-storm to a bunch of faeries throwing a temper-tantrum.

There are two paragraphs about leaves falling from trees and hail breaking people’s windows.

Oh, how the storm raged!

It was truly a fiend!

Hail – rain – wind.

It was, in very truth, an awful night.

How dark and foreboding!

We get some descriptions of an ancient house. In the bedroom, a bunch of pictures and a portrait is hanging up on the wall.

That portrait is of a young man, with a pale face, a stately brow, and a strange expression about the eyes, which no one cared to look on twice.

1. If the portrait looks creepy or weird and it makes people uncomfortable…
2. Then why is it still hanging up on the wall?
3. And I’m betting dollars to donuts that the young man in the portrait is Varney.

There is a stately bed in that chamber, of carved walnut-wood is it made, rich in design and elaborate in execution; one of those works which owe their existence to the Elizabethan era.

It is hung with heavy silken and damask furnishing; nodding feathers are at its corners – covered with dust are they, and they lend a funereal aspect to the room. The floor is of polished oak.

According to Merriam Webster, funereal is “of or relating to a funeral.”

How is a dusty room with silken furnishing and an oak floor be like a funeral?

We get more flowery descriptions about the weather and how the hail is like a “discharge of mimic musketry.”

The bed in that old chamber is occupied. A creature formed in all fashions of loveliness lies in a half sleep upon that ancient couch –

One moment, someone is sleeping in a bed. And now they are sleeping on a COUCH.

Which is it? And why is this story so inconsistent?!

a girl young and beautiful as a spring morning.

A girl can’t be just attractive. Noooo. She has to be beautiful like “a spring morning.”

If the girl is described as being sculpted by God or being a work of art, then she is DEFINITELY a Mary Sue.

We find out that the girl has long hair and the covers are black.

She has been restless in her sleep, for the clothing of the bed is in much confusion.

1. Who knew that clothing can be befuddled?
2. OH. I think the authors were talking about the bedding.
3. I have never heard of anyone calling bedding “the clothing of the bed.”
4. The authors used the wrong word.
5. According to Merriam Webster, confusion is the act or instance of confusing or the quality or state being confused.
6. And confusion is being perplexed by something, mixed up or indistinguishable.
7. The authors were trying to say that the bedding was rumpled.
8. But as Mark Twain wisely said, “Say what he is proposing to say, not merely come near it” and “Use the right word, not its second cousin."

One arm is over her head, the other hangs nearly off the side of the bed near to which she lies.

She has perfected the damsel in distress pose.

A neck and bosom that would have formed a study for the rarest sculptor that ever Providence gave genius to, were half disclosed.

It was bad enough that the girl is beautiful like a "spring morning.”

But now the girl is SO alluring that she is a work of art and is the best thing that was created by God…

The girl moans softly in her sleep.

She had endured much fatigue, and the storm dose not awaken her;

I find it hard to believe that someone would be sleeping like a baby during the storm of the century.

But it can disturb the slumbers it does not possess the power to destroy entirely. The turmoil of the elements wakes the senses, although it cannot entirely break the repose they have lapsed into.

1. There is an old saying that some people sleep so soundly that they can sleep through a hurricane.
2. It’s not meant to be taken literally.
3. And no one can sleep soundly through a hurricane.
4. Especially if it is the storm of the century.

Oh, what a world of witchery was in that mouth, slightly parted, and exhibiting within the pearly teeth that glistened even in the faint light that came from that bay window. How sweetly the long silken eyelashes lay upon the cheek.

We get it. She’s more beautiful than Aphrodite and Freya.

Now she moves, and one shoulder is entirely visible – whiter, fairer than the spotless clothing of the bed on which she lies, is the smooth skin of that fair creature, just budding into womanhood, and in that transition state which presents to us all the charms of the girl – almost of the child, with the more matured beauty and gentleness of advancing years.

1. Where do I start?
2. Not to sound like a SJW but it makes me wince when someone describes white skin as being “pure”.
3. Because it implies that anyone who isn’t lily-white is hideous or tainted.
4. In real life, many people would think someone with snow white skin is creepy or sickly.
5. And the age of consent varies by state and country along with the time period.
6. In England and Wales during 1880,the age of consent is 13.
7. But Varney the Vampire was published between the years 1845 - 1847 and The Offences Against the Person Act 1828 states that having sex with a 10 year old girl is punishable by death while having sex with a girl under the age of 12 is a misdemeanor…
8. You know what? I’m going to stop talking about this before it gets even more disturbing.

Was that lightning? Yes – an awful, vivid, terrifying flash – then a roaring peal of thunder, as if a thousand mountains were rolling one over the other in the blue vault of Heaven!

…………

…………

So Heaven is filled with mountains??

Who sleeps now in that ancient city? Not one living soul.

1. I have never heard of people living in Heaven.
2. It is home to God and His angels along with the souls of good people.
3. And why is everyone in Heaven napping?!

The dread trumpet of eternity could not more effectually have awakened any one.

1. Why is eternity playing a trumpet?
2. Why not a piano or a violin?
3. Are these authors on drugs?!

Anyway, the hail and wind continued.

Now she awakens – that beautiful girl on the antique bed;

she opens those eyes of celestial blue,

1. It was bad enough when the girl is described as God’s best creation…
2. But now she has heavenly eyes?!?

The girl cries out faintly and covers her eyes.

Heavens! what a wild torrent of wind, and rain, and hail!

The thunder likewise seems intent upon awakening sufficient echoes to last until the next flash of forked lightning should again produce the wild concussion of the air.

1. Thunder isn’t a sound caused by lightning…
2. It is a sentient being.

She murmurs a prayer – a prayer for those she loves best;

“Dear God, please watch over Mommy and Daddy…”

the names of those dear to her gentle heart come from her lips;

“And please protect my goldfish Goldy.”

she weeps and prays;

Before writing bad emo poetry and posting it to LiveJournal.

she thinks then of what devastation the storm must surely produce,

And then she shed a single tear.

and to the great God of Heaven she prays for all living things.

1. We get it.
2. The girl is supposed to be the paragon of virtue.
3. Stop reminding us every five seconds.

A shriek bursts from the lips of the young girl, and then, with eyes fixed upon that window, which, in another moment, is all darkness, and with such an expression of terror upon her face as it had never before known, she trembled, and the perspiration of intense fear stood upon her brow.

Why is this sentence so fucking long? And…

“What – what was it?” she gasped; “real or delusion? Oh, God, what was it? A figure tall and gaunt, endeavouring from the outside to unclasp the window. I saw it. That flash of lightning revealed it to me. It stood the whole length of the window.”

1. Who is the girl talking to?
2. Why is she spewing narration?
3. And who talks like this?!?

The storm has calmed down. But something is hitting the window.

It could not be a delusion – she is awake, and she hears it.

1. Just because you hear something, it doesn’t make it real.
2. It can be caused by mental illness or an overactive imagination.
3. The girl could be having a vivid dream.
4. For instance, I once had a vivid dream where I was attending a ball in the 18th century and heard music playing.
5. It doesn’t mean that I went back in time.

What can produce it? Another flash of lightning – another shriek – there could be now no delusion.

1. There is NO WAY that the girl is hallucinating or having a vivid dream.
2. She MUST be correct!

A tall figure is standing on the ledge immediately outside the long window.

It must be a big window ledge. Below is a picture of a windowsill:

The correct word would be balcony.

It is its finger-nails upon the glass that produces the sound so like the hail, now that the hail has ceased.

I have NEVER hear of fingernails raking across a window sounding like hail.

Intense fear paralysed the limbs of the beautiful girl.

That one shriek is all she can utter – with hand clasped, a face of marble, a heart beating so wildly in her bosom, that each moment it seems as if it would break its confines,

Unfortunately, it doesn’t.

Which means I have to slog through 236 more chapters.

eyes distended and fixed upon the window, she waits, froze with horror.

So the nails are “pattering” and “clattering.”

No word is spoken, and now she fancies she can trace the darker form of that figure against the window, and she can see the long arms moving to and fro, feeling for some mode of entrance.

…….

……

1. A creature that is supposed to be sinister and terrifying…
2. Can’t even open a fucking window.

What strange light is that which now gradually creeps up into the air?

St. Elmo’s fire?

red and terrible – brighter and brighter it grows.

“Don’t look into the deadlights!”

So lightning has set fire to a mill and the idiot with the incredibly long fingernails STILL can’t open the window.

Even though the red light should have helped it find a window latch.

She tries to scream again but a choking sensation comes over her, and she cannot. It is too dreadful – she tries to move – each limb seems weighted down by tons of lead

1. Because only a “new woman” would try to flee from danger.
2. This girl and Bella Swan should go bowling…

– she can but in a hoarse faint whisper cry, – “Help – help – help – help!”

1. She couldn’t scream two sentences ago..
2. But now she can.
3. Why is this book so damn inconsistent??

And that one word she repeats like a person in a dream.

1. Because EVERYONE would do the same exact thing.
2. It’s not like some people talk in their sleep or snore.

The glare of the burning mill reveals the fucking idiot that ominous figure is tall and gaunt.

It shows, too, upon the one portrait that is in the chamber, and the portrait appears to fix its eyes upon the attempting intruder, while the flickering light from the fire makes it look fearfully lifelike.

1. We get it.
2. The unholy abomination is the person in the portrait.

A small pane of glass is broken, and the form from without introduces a long gaunt hand, which seems utterly destitute of flesh.

Who knew it was a spooky scary skeleton?

The creature finally opens the window.

And yet now she could not scream – she could not move. “Help! – help! – help!” was all she could say.

1. If you can’t scream….
2. Then you can’t talk.

But, oh, that look of terror that sat upon her face,

it was dreadful –

Because the plight of a wealthy white girl is atrocious!

a look to haunt the memory for a life-time – a look to obtrude itself upon the happiest moments, and turn them to bitterness.

The figure turns half round, and the light falls upon its face. It is perfectly white – perfectly bloodless.

And somewhere, Stephenie Meyer just swooned.

The eyes look like polished tin; the lips are drawn back, and the principal feature next to those dreadful eyes is the teeth – the fearful looking teeth – projecting like those of some wild animal, hideously, glaringly white, and fang-like.

1. First of all, a vampire being a hideous creature is a breath of fresh air.
2. Especially after reading Twilight and shitty vampire books.
3. And I could be wrong…
4. But wild animals don’t have “glaringly white” teeth.

It approaches the bed with a strange, gliding movement.

Because Varney was riding a segway.

It clashes together the long nails that literally appear to hang from the finger ends.

Detached finger nails are so terrifying.

Is she going mad – that young and beautiful girl exposed to so much terror?

The girl being crazier than a shit house rat would explain all the weird ramblings and inconsistencies…

Anyway, we are told that the girl can’t say anything but she can move her body.

But her eyes are fascinated. The glance of a serpent could not have produced a greater effect upon her than did the fixed gaze of those awful, metallic-looking eyes that were bent down on her face.

“Trust in me, just in me…”

The creature is now crouching down.

What was it? – what did it want there? – what made it look so hideous – so unlike an inhabitant of the earth, and yet be on it?

This is so superficial that it something Dorian Gray would say and something Cassandra Clare would endorse.

And this sentence reminded me of this speech:

Now she has got to the verge of the bed, and the figure pauses.

What the hell is “she has got to the verge of the bed” supposed to mean?

The girl has “lost the power to proceed” and is holding onto the bed sheets.

She drew her breath short and thick. Her bosom heaves, and her limbs tremble, yet she cannot withdraw her eyes from that marble-looking face.

He holds her with his glittering eye.

1. Thank God his body isn’t glittering.
2. Otherwise, I would be running for the hills.

The storm has finally stopped and the church clock has struck one.

The creature hisses and raises his arms before walking towards the girl.

The door of the room is in that direction – can she reach it?

1. Yes!
2. If she gets off her ass.

Has she power to walk?

This sentence is missing a word.

It should be “Has she [the] power to walk?”

– can she withdraw her eyes from the face of the intruder, and so break the hideous charm?

If she did that, then there wouldn’t be a story.

God of Heaven! is it real, or some dream so like reality as to nearly overturn judgment forever?

Because Varney is such a badass that God and Satan have agreed to cancel the Apocalypse.

Varney paused and the girl is trembling.

Her long hair streams across the entire width of the bed.

It must be a chore to wash and brush Rapunzel length hair.

The pause lasted about a minute – oh, what an age of agony.

1. It is so ghastly!
2. Somebody fetch the fainting couch and smelling salts!

That minute was, indeed, enough for madness to do its full work in.

Who knew that insanity was expeditious?

Varney lungs at the girl and grabs her hair. There is a “strange howling cry.”

Then she screamed – Heaven granted her then power to scream.

1. The girl can’t scream because she has working vocal cords…
2. God MUST BE involved!

The girl is still screaming and she is being dragged by her “silken hair.”

Her beautifully rounded limbs quivered with the agony of her soul.

The glassy, horrible eyes of the figure ran over that angelic form with a hideous satisfaction – horrible profanation.

If this book was anymore obvious, the girl’s name would be Celeste Chastity.

Varney forces her head back. He bites her resulting in a “gush of blood” and a “hideous sucking noise.”

The girl has swooned, and the vampyre is at his hideous repast!