Messiah of Evil

They say that nightmares

are dreams perfected.

I've told them here it wasn't a nightmare,

but they don't believe me.

They nod and make little notes in my file.

And they watch me now, waiting for me to scar my breasts,

to eat insects, maybe, or to lift

my dress like some crazy, old woman and urinate on the floor.

But there's so little time left, you've got to listen.

Not far from here is a small town on the coast.

They used to call it New Bethlehem.

But they changed the name to Point Dune

after the moon turned blood red.

Point Dune doesn't look any different than a thousand

other neon stucco towns, but what

happened there, what they did to me, what they're doing now...

They're coming here.

They're waiting at the edge of the city.

They're peering around buildings at night.

And they're waiting.

They're waiting for you.

And they'll take you one by one, and no one

will hear you scream.

No one will hear you scream!

I went there looking for my father.

He used to spend winters in Point Dune, painting.

Then after my mother died, he stayed.

And his letters became our only contact, until recently,

when his letters became more and more bizarre

and finally stopped.

I have little time now.

I can't write again.

You mustn't worry.

And please, you must promise not to follow me.

I'm afraid to see people anymore.

It's better that I wait alone for it to come.

Fill her up?

Yes, please.

Dogs, stray dogs.

It doesn't sound like dogs.

Has to be.

Has to be dogs.

I've hunted in them woods out there,

nothing but quail and rabbits.

Rabbits don't make that sound.

That's Point Dune ahead, isn't it?

Why do you want to go to Point Dune?

I'm visiting somebody there.

I can't understand why anybody would want to go to Point Dune, visiting

I mean, it's just a piss poor little town.

It's deader than hell.

You forgot...

Hello there.

Fill her up?

$2.00.

No knock.

Yes, sir.

Machine's broke, lady, don't you have any cash?

Well, no, but this is...

That's all right, forget it.

Oh...

Get out.

Get your... your stamps?

Father?

Father?

Father?

JOSEPH LANG June 30th.

For three nights now I haven't slept.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.

The visions are coming from areas of my mind

that I don't understand.

July 2nd.

These grotesque images keep crowding in on me.

At night I find myself wandering alone in town,

catching glimpses of horrid animals I know can't be there.

And along Clark Beach faces haunt me.

Pale women with sleepless eyes and shadowy figures

staring toward the black water.

He didn't return that night.

I walked along the beach in the morning, as I'm sure he must have

coming out of the nightmares he spoke of

back into the daylight.

I drove into town.

It was hot already.

I saw an art gallery and I thought

they might know my father.

The art dealer was blind.

Her fingers moved like a pale spider over my face.

Joseph Lang?

Do I know who he is?

We do get magazines in Point Dune, which some of us

can even read.

Well, I meant, I'm looking for him.

And I thought maybe you knew him personally.

Point Dune isn't an artist colony.

I heard he did take people out there, mostly women.

But they weren't from Point Dune.

Uh, there were some people in this morning looking

for your father, which means some people do

like his brand of art.

Who were they?

I don't know, strangers.

I think they're staying at the Seven Seas.

I'm as old as the hills.

Mama delivered me herself.

She took me from between her legs,

bloody little mess, just about to feed me to the chickens.

And daddy said, maybe we could use a boy, Lotty.

That's how I came into the world.

Excuse me, they said at the gallery

that you were looking for Joseph Lang.

He's my father and I just...

Just come in and close the door.

All I want to know is if...

Close the door.

Go ahead, Charlie.

Hard to remember back on things.

But I... I remember the red moonlight daddy

told me about, only once.

Momma gave him a bad look when he talked about it.

He was only a boy himself, then.

He called it the blood moon.

He said that was the night that he lost religion.

He learned that men could do... could do

horrible things, like animals.

I'm really hungry.

I've got the munchies.

Shut up.

Go ahead, Charlie.

What about the moon?

100 years ago the moon started turning red up in the sky

and things began to happen.

It was like the redder the moon got up there,

the closer the people were being jerked toward hell.

Or that people started bleeding out of control.

They found children eating raw meat.

It was like the town is festering with an... an open sore,

until the night that they...

until the night they came down out of the canyon and...

Who came down, Charlie.

I've got to go.

Charlie.

Take the wine, Charlie.

Wow, thanks for your kindly hospitality.

I'm looking for my father.

Do you know him?

I know of him.

They told me at the gallery...

We drove by the gallery this morning.

I happened to see one of your father's works in the window.

I didn't know that he lived here.

They didn't have any of his paintings there.

Well, that's popularity.

Because they did this morning.

I offered to buy one and the old woman

said they weren't for sale.

As a matter of fact, it was a portrait of you.

Thom likes to collect things.

Like old drunks?

Old fashioned retort.

What's a retort?

Toni, you're half girl, half child and half wit.

Sit on it, sister.

Don't be afraid, I'm an ugly old man, but I'm harmless.

It's about your daddy.

They mustn't hear me.

I've got 'em fooled.

I get drunk, sleep on the sidewalk like a dog

and they let me be.

I ain't crazy.

Hello, Charlie.

What about my father?

You have to kill him.

You're crazy.

You can't bury him.

Don't put him in the ground.

You got to burn him.

You got to put fire to his body.

I spent the afternoon in town,

asking about my father.

The reaction was always the same,

people would only stare or shake their heads and back away.

JOSEPH LANG July 6th.

Arletty called this morning.

I listened to her, but couldn't let her know I was here.

My voice would have terrified her.

At times I make noises which don't seem human.

And my mind is letting go.

I try to remember the past, my daughter, but I can't.

Instead I... I think of death.

Always death.

What are you doing here?

You looked so comfortable I didn't want to wake you.

You're very pretty when you sleep.

Mmm, I'm going to take a nap.

Wanna come?

Later.

You can't stay here.

Just for the night.

I'm willing to pay.