The following are the first five pages (along with selected excerpts) from Robert's journal. You can also review the photos of actual journal entries.
Page 1: Something don't need. The reason he doesn't is because no one notices him. Scene at coffee shop is where they forget to get his coffee. [crossed out] maybe [unreadable] to apparented [?] doesn't work anymore. His interiors doesn't wok people can't reach him. No killing. Just make up drunk and sees guy robbing him. Robber doesn't notice him. Or robber does and continues to put things in bag. [crossed out] robber shows him his stuff before he takes it. Maybe robber takes off his mask and then just walks out. Shout [?] stay? Shout [?] file [?]?
Page 2: There aren't any trees that touch my window, but sometimes I hear their branches beating against it. Is that weird? That's not weird. You don't think that's weird because you get me. That's what I tell everyone? I tell everyone you get me. You don't want to make me a liar do you? That wouldn't be very nice. I wouldn't like you if you make me a liar. I don't think you would like me if you made me a lair. You do like me, don't you? I think people think I'm needy. But I'm not. Since you get me, you knew that as well, but why do you think people think I'm needy? It's because I have a big [unreadable] and society [?] does its best to kill emotion because [unreable] is pain [?]. If you feel something you just might do something, you just night succeed ad that is unacceptable.
Page 3: Guy sees a girl across the room. Then what?
Page 4: Are [?] of the following stories is the true story of how I lost my virginity and the other is the one I tell people. 1) lose it to drunk girl at party. 2) goes to [unreadable, Hoakins???], Nevada. [Arrow pointing to #1] True.... [arrow pointing to #2] One he tells everyone.
Page 5: I am a sick man...I am a wicked man. An unattractive man. I think my liver hurts. However, I don't know a (fig?) about my sickness and am not sure what it is that hurts me. I am not being treated and never have been, though I respect [unreadable] and doctors. What's more I am also superstitious [unreadable] the extreme; well, at least rought to repeat [unreadable]. I am sufficiently educated not to be superstitious but I am. No sin, I refuse to be treaded out of wickedness. Now you certainly will not be so good as to understand this. Well, sin, but I understand it...
Robert Hurley's journal - the dated entries:
Today I met the most beautiful woman. Vitaly's friend Stephan owns a dating service. She's a call girl, but promises she won't do this for long. Her name is Natalya. Things are good so far. Last night we had dinner at Traxx, then she came over. She made me breakfast this morning.
I can really see myself with her.
I'm so exhausted from my trip back from Toluca in Mexico. Natalya and I had a wonderful time, but I want to find a way to get her away from her mafia bosses. They're all involved in some secret society which worships Satan! When she told me about it, I didn't first believe her. Then I saw it for myself. Natalya knew about a meeting and we followed her bosses to their monthly ritual. We peered inside the window I saw the most unbelievable things. They use golden daggers and take turns slicing their arms and dripping the blood into a gold cup. Each take turns sipping from it. A woman was tied down in the center of the room with a 5-point star drawn in the center. They all gathered in a circle and chanted, then they cut into her wrists and drank her blood. I'm so afraid for Natalya.
I feel as if I have missed a boat somewhere, one that would take me from the euphoria of youth to the contentment of adulthood; to a place where fear and insecurity would--if not immediately vanish--at least drain away from me like the blood from a fishing boat. Instead I'm stuck in a perpetual way station, waiting for things to get better.
And what do I have to complain about? One would ask. I have my health, an attractive girlfriend, relative wealth (by third world standards). Well, what would I have to be so happy about?
One could counter: Threats from the Russian mafia about gambling debts, strange bite marks on my neck all the time (what ARE they?), chronic writers block. But these things don't really bother me. Money? What would I do with that? I only gamble for fun. Bite marks? Flea bites, most likely (Natalya's damn dog). Writer's block? Temporary.
So what is this cloud of paranoia that shadows me day after day? Why do I glare at the unfriendly service of a waitress? The smile of an ugly stranger? The success of a friend? The sensual walk of Natalya? Am I being jealous and possessive? God! The horror! I will have descended into the well of Americanism, where I become more ungrateful and paranoid with each new material pleasure I attain! How can this be? I quit my job and joined the Playwrights Foundation to get away from becoming that!
If only I could find the source of this bad feeling. Does anyone have any suggestions? I'm too reluctant to see a psychiatrist. Or a hypnotist.
Maybe I just need to get away...
My girlfriend Natalya is acting as if she's afraid of me. She doesn't kiss me or even hold me anymore. Not that I'm anxious for love these days myself (strange for me), but her distance from me is perplexing. The only reason I can think of is because I've finally revealed her that my second script "Shades of Blood" (that I've showed only to Vitaly) is based on the research about the history of cult "Light Into Dark" and that Stepan promised me an access to the secret archives of the library in Moscow... I must get the confirmation of the valuable information I've collected so far... If my fears will be confirmed - then the world must know about the danger before it's too late...
What do you think?
Today Natalya told me she hid some money in my room that belonged to her mafia bosses. Now they believe I had something to do with it! She came into my room in a panic looking for a box. I didn't know what she was talking about then she admitted what she'd done. She told me to be careful because they may come after me looking for the cash. I'm scared for my life.
What do you think?
I cornered a crew member yesterday. I refuse to remember his name. He told me why everyone has been treating me strangely. They think the script is based on my life. They think I like hookers and am misogynistic. But maybe they have a point...Let me tell you something to make you all feel bad: I lost my virginity to a prostitute in Lyon County, Nevada when I was 26. Still, so what? Who cares?! Should these idiots know what I know about Light Into Dark... I want to save this f***ing world. How to explain this to them?
The past few days the people in my movie have been looking at me strangely. I catch a lot of sideways glances. I catch a lot of quick jerks of the head. I do not like it. I do not know what it is about.
It is MY movie. The least they can do is treat me with respect. They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. I hope they read this. I will not be ignored or walked on. I am not a doormat and we will be friends.
Is it unreasonable to want to be treated like you are not some disease, to ask to be kept in the loop on the thing you created? Even if it is unreasonable, which it is not, it is what I demand. I can live very hard for these people. You better shape up. I believe Natalya and at least one of her bosses are somehow involved... My fault! I shouldn't tell her about "Shades of Blood"... To sum it up, even Vitaly confessed me that he started receive some strange phone calls. He speculates that somebody doesn't want him to make this film... I thought that he may have a point but told him not to worry. He said that fortunately he doesn't have enough time for anything - including thinking about the possible threats. He mentioned Murphy Law and other such things and concluded that he'll do the f...movie against all odds. I encouraged him to continue proposing to help with the adjustment of his shooting script... I felt his hesitation in trusting me the original copy of it (made in pencil). I promised to provide him with the clean copy in ink in the next couple of days...
This is an official entry/preface for my website:
There are strange things that are taking place in this world. Certain events - like natural disasters and terrorist acts are highly publicized. The other events remain hidden, classified, widely unknown. These underground currents invisible for the public eye play a decisive role in the changes our world undergoes.
The author of this writing was exposed to some of such "underground" secrets. The circumstances of my life unveiled for me the existence of a secret society "Dark onto Light." I was exposed to some of the rituals of this cult and was flabbergasted by discovering the things I've never imagined could exist. So I've started my research which resulted in its initial stage in two screenplays: "Notes From The New World" and "Shades of Blood." Both were my first literary works.
I always wanted to be a writer but was obliged to satisfy at first my parents' inclinations. They wanted me to be a computer engineer. So I became one, got a nice job and hated it. I'll write about it later. First of all, I'd like to continue to tell you about my research. Once started, I couldn't stop. I must find out the truth although I don't know if my curiosity will be satisfied before I die. As a matter of fact, I was advised by some powerful people to stop my research. I cannot do it.
This is the reason I've decided to publish the initial chapters of my research on the web. If something bad would happen to me - I hope somebody else will continue what I've started. Please be advised - I'm not a scholar. However, the info that I've already succeeded to gather in relation to the history of the cult is correct to the best of my knowledge.
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The following e-mails - originally printed out and neatly folded - were found in Robert's journal.
From: Rick Smithers <firstname.lastname@example.org>
To: Robert Hurley <email@example.com>
Subject: Your Script
I hear your new script is based on Dostoyevsky's "Notes from the Underground." Isn't that material a little dark for today's audience? I know you loathed the pulp of most popular comedies and dramas, but remember how we talked about getting real? Real as in thinking about what's going to sell? If people want that kind of stuff they can READ Dostoyevsky. They don't want expositions on human nature when they're in a theater. They want to be entertained. And you said you combine art and entertainment the way Kurosawa and Kazan did. So where is it?
You know, Vitaly seemed to be your only real friend at the Foundation. At least, he's really the only one you associated with for very long. I was hoping you hadn't let him coerce you too much with his talk about art, and Bergman and Truffaut, etc. These guys are passe, Bob! Think Tarantino, Rodriquez, even Speilberg!
Don't alienate us, Bob. We're trying to help you.
When Colin and Kellie arrived at Hurley’s place, they found (in addition to his diary) a special notebook where Robert apparently glued the pictures of his imaginary friends found via the web and subsequently printed on paper.
Above are the photos posted on his MySpace page. Apparently many of these people were members of the Dark Onto Light cult.