Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story. I would like to thank those that have taken time to read, alert, favourite, or review this story:)

Over many years (too many for the average mind to count), many people have often wondered what comes after death.

And, over those years, the people (of all groups) have come up with different theories as to what awaits one's soul in the 'Afterlife'. These theories varied drastically, some of which were only metaphorically possible to both mental and physical aspects. Many of which were simply a combination of one's dreams and their personal imagination (of which was inflicted into their personal beliefs) merged together to such an extent that the beliefs were imposed into the minds of others; acting like a vast virus that continued to radiate amoungst the people of Earth at a faster rate than the normal conscience can even predict. And every possible theory had followers, (whether it varied from a range of less than a dozen to just about a billion was an entirely different matter) and the followers were high believers; following everything, that they knew how, to an extent where their mind simply refused otherwise. No-one was able to inflict other beliefs upon them, and their willingness to do so was scarce. However, this did not apply to all people.

Some people just didn't care; some just didn't follow a religion (the religion having its own belief as to what happens to one after death). And, no matter what, their was absolutely no source that could impose their own belief onto them. They could make them understand why the value was important, but they wouldn't proceed any further than that; they couldn't make them believe. Simply doing so was an impossibility; literally. Some just didn't follow anything, other than following the teachings of simply not following. Some of these were 'Atheists', ones who just don't believe in a higher power (therefore meaning that they have no religious belief in an afterlife, whatever it could be). But there were simply those who are Agnostic and are simply waiting for proof in the 'higher' power, the truth of which could arrive, but may never cease to come.

Whether or whether not people believe in afterlife, everyone has at least had this question come across their minds once:

'What awaits one after death?'

No-one had ever known the real answer and if they had been anywhere close, they were never completely sure of their own thoughts; as if their own inner conscience had convinced them that their thoughts were nothing more than a simple fantasy: A pure day-dream that was bound to, sooner or later, be left to rot in the everlasting ashes. It never could happen. And even if some had been completely sure that they knew the answer, they were almost always wrong. And besides, they were never supposed to know until their own time had come. However, some just simply refused to follow this alternative (if it even did occur), perhaps believing that they were beyond superior when placed alongside others; maybe even supposing that their beliefs were inevitable, insinuating that they were the absolute truth. Leaving the beliefs of others to choke in the dust was all they ever did. As if they fed on the mere thought.

Many of the possible theories of what awaited one after death were similar. Some people (Christians) believed you went to a wonderful place called 'Heaven' if you were good in your life; if you followed the rules. Whilst also believing that sinners went to a scalding place called 'Hell', a place where all thye bad people in the world were sent for a literal torture; punished for their actions taken in their living life. However, others had different beliefs. Some believed that there was a state called 'Nirvana', where one would go when they've achieved something called 'Enlightenment', of which is where one is set free from suffering and individual existence. But whether Buddhists' even knew whether anyone, they loved dearly, had achieved Enlightenment afterall is another matter.

All in all, the list, of the religions and possible theories of what may happen after death, was endless. And it came to no halt. It never would, no matter what people tried to convince others. It was nearly impossible to change someone's beliefs, unless they saw the light of what the other was saying. But altering the way someone saw the world had proved to be extremely difficult. It was as if they were trying to convince an unstoppable serial killer, of who craved blood, to see error in his ways when all he wanted to do was kill; the absolute hunger for inflicting torture overwhelming the killer completely as his thoughts became crazed.

However, there was one possibility that stood out from all the others:

'Reincarnation'.

This theory was as close as any living person would ever get to finding out the real answer; the answer that was to remain hidden from curious eyes as they proceeded in their thorough scan. And there was a reason behind this: No-one was supposed to know. No-one was supposed to know something that could possibly destroy them completely; incinerating their minds to nothing more than ashes that are currently on the verge of being swept away by the vicious winds that sweep through the dead night sky; racing through the air until they are forced to an abrupt halt by the strong currents of a wind ripping in an opposite direction. No living person was ever supposed to know what came after death, or the fact could literally drive them insane to a extent when they even contemplate death itself; suicide.

And there were still some who believed that nothing happened after death. People who believed that death was just it; nothing happened after death in the slightest. When you die, you just die. And there were still those who opposed against the beliefs, even setting up campaigns to shove their personal ways down the throats of the opposer's.

But if only they knew what could really happen. The real truth could destroy the mind of anyone; especially if they learned what Katrielle Hay could do with her own powers. She could do anything concerning the matter.

She even had her own ways to avoid death itself.

And all of this revolved around the available hosts; the ones she had inflicted the most damage upon.

Woody's jaw dropped as he gaped at Jessie in horror, unable to even believe what she had just told him.

"W-what?" He asked, clearly confused. He didn't leave her, that he knew. But he still couldn't help himself from simply murmuring this. "I-I didn't."

Jessie lifted her head again to gaze at Woody glumly. This was all too much for her to handle. He had left all those years before. And it seemed like he had left without a single care.

"It's not fair!" Jessie exclaimed as she snapped around, her eyes glistening in disbelief, hatred...and defeat. "How could you do this to us?"

He was really prepared to leave them.

And this was what broke her heart.

...

And then he was stepping into the vent, full to the brim with absolute fury as he stormed his way through the encasing of steel.

What had they ever done for him? Absolutely nothing! That's what!

He knew fully well that they had only been trying to take advantage of him from the start, just to get into that stupid museum of which would only lead them to a lifetime of being trapped inside display cases. And how could they have been expecting him to leave his owner behind? Even Jessie should've known better, even though her entire story, concerning her previous owner, had been melodramatic.

It was as if something snapped within Woodrow Pride, since he had never acted the same again after that day.

The Sheriff's eyes opened wide after this.

Now he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." Woody urged anxiously, barely even able to come to senses with what was happening. "You don't under-"

Woody would've continued, if he had not been interrupted.

"I think she understands plenty enough," Pete spoke up, causing the slightly surprised Sheriff to turn in his direction.

"She doesn't." Woody clearly stated, seeming to notice the whimpering Bullseye cowering behind Pete's legs.

"Are you contradicting my word there Sheriff?" Pete asked expectantly, his voice seeming to be full of pure venom as he spoke.

Woody glared at Pete for a few moments, before shaking his head and turning back towards Jessie. He couldn't afford to be dealing with Pete at that moment.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her." Pete warned dangerously, of which could only cause the Sheriff to raise his eyebrows out of curiosity.

But it struck Woody as odd when Jessie noticed something about Pete. In fact, it struck him as more than odd.

"Y-you're outta your box..." Jessie murmured slowly, her voice weak and half-hearted. She had never seen Pete like this before, he was never out of his box.

"Yes, the men who work here at the recycling unit took me out." Pete began, before admiring the stitching on his arms as he kept a form hold of the plastic axe in his hands. "Probably just so they can reuse it."

"Wait?" Jessie suddenly asked, having no idea what Pete was even talking about. "What recycling unit?"

"Have you been deaf these past few months?" Pete began to ask, before shaking his head upon remembering that Jessie had been in storage most of the time. "Why, Al's sent us to be the faces of a brand new toy recycling industry."

Woody's jaw dropped at this and he had been too shocked by the answer to even question where Al could be (even though the store manager had simply taken his cheque and went off)

"A toy recycling industry?" Woody asked in disbelief.

And this was when the fatal truth came down on him; the literal fatal truth.

A/N And now Woody and Jessie have finally found out where Al has sent them. But how will Woody tale it when he finds out that they really recycle toys?

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