They stand, they sit, they lay down, but only if you position them that way. Their limbs are stiff and their skin is smooth and hard. Their colorful faces, painted so full of life, contradicting their insides, dark and empty. Made of glass and dressed in beautiful dresses, they closely resemble a body stricken by death, dressed in nice clothes for their final service, their departure, their funeral.

The hollows, empty and dark, the emptiness within them is very much like death. Within their bodies is something, however, something that is…nothing. A sea of black known simply as darkness. Although they cannot move, although they cannot feel, they stare at us through their marble eyes.

Its emptiness longs for a companion, for something to occupy it, fill its void. They are played with and loved by children, but, they want more, they still feel lonely. The longer that our children play with these, however, the more they seem to slip away. Their minds, their souls are slipping away, being devoured by these demons, and yet, we see it as them being "imaginative." They are not just toys, they are vessels for all the spirits that have been unfortunate enough to spend time with them. They are the hollows.