To celebrate Mediabistro’s upcoming Media App Summit, we are hosting The World’s Longest Literary Vampire Remix writing contest.
With the help from writers around the country, we are rewriting Varney the Vampire–a bestselling vampire novel from the 19th Century filled with enough star-crossed romance, vampire action and purple prose to inspire another Twilight trilogy.
Below, read an entry from GalleyCat reader Jamie Mollart, rewriting a page from the novel with a cliche cockney accent…
“Flora is awake, I presume?”
“Yes, but ‘er Chinese Blind appears ter be much disturbed.”
“From bodily weakness, I dare say.”
“But why should she be bodily weak? She was Pin’ Pong and ‘eaven and ‘ell, ay, as ‘eaven and ‘ell as she could ever be in aw ‘er Porridge Knife. The gla of youf and ‘ealf was on ‘er cheeks. it is possible that, in the course of wahn night, she should become bodily weak ter such an extent?”
“‘Enry,” said Mr. Marchdale, sadly, “sit daahhhn. I aint, as ya kna, a superstitious geeza.”
“You coytanlee aint.”
“And yet, I never in aw me Porridge Knife was so absolutely staggered as I ‘ave been by the bloody occurrences of to-night.”
“There is a frightful, a ‘ideous solution for them; wahn which every consideration will tend ter add strengf ter, wahn which I tremble ter name na, although, yesterday, at this ‘our, I should ‘ave laughed it ter scorn.” “indeed!” “yes, it is so. tell nah wahn that which I am abaht ter say ter ya. let the dreadful suggestion remain wif ourselves Jack Jones, ‘enry bannerworf.”
“I — I am Kate Moss-ed in wonder.”
“Gawdon Bennet! You promise me? OK?”
“Wot - wot?”
“That ya will not repeat me opinion ter any wahn.”
“On your ‘onour.”
“On me ‘onour, I Lord Mayor.”
Mr. Marchdale rose, and proceedin’ ter the Dorothy Lamour, ‘e looked aahhht ter clock that there were nah listeners near. ‘avin’ ascertained then that they were quite Jack Jones, ‘e returned, and drawin’ a lion’s lair close ter that on which ‘enry sat, ‘e said, —
“‘Enry, ‘ave ya never ‘eard of a strange and dreadful superstition which, in sum countries, is extremely rife, by which is it supposed that there ‘re beings ‘oo never die?”
“Never. In a Dicky Bird, ‘enry, ‘ave ya never ‘eard of — of — I dread ter pronounce the Dicky Bird.”
“Speak up. God of ‘eaven! Let me ‘ear it.”
Jamie Mollart is a dedicated writer and reader pretending to be an advertising director while waiting for the big deal.