Out of the black lodge...It lurks in the dank, dark heart of the woods,attracting all that slinks, crawls and slithers in the night.Pushing cold into the bones and nightmares into theheads of children, who wake crying with fear and creepingto their parent's beds for comfort.In the morning it will be gone. It feeds on hope and once hope is gone,it moves on. It must, because the hope does not return.Those who lose it know that it is lost forever and they will no moresee the joy in life. When they laugh, their laughter is hollow, like their eyes.Their easy smiles at seeing a loved one are replaced by aquick glimpse over their shoulder, to be sure no one is close. No moreare strangers welcomed to their hearth, and their housesseem to echo with the emptiness of occupants long gone.