I'll Sing You One Last Song and then I'm Gone (Tokio Hotel Fan-Fic)

Chapter 3

This story is written by @xAnDeinerSeitex She wrote this story on a website called TokioHotelFiction.com. I was able to locate her and found out she had a wattpad account. She has given me permission to post it on here. @xAnDienerSeitex aslo has a new updated version of the story, as seeing this one is a few years old. If you like to read that one click the external link on the side. And I would like to say I have no rights to this story and I am NOT the writer. I would also like to thank @xAnDeinerSeitex for writing this great story and letting me post it on my account.

I’m dead.

I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead.

And I’m about to get all the answers to the one thing people can’t ever prove to themselves for certain – death.

All our lives, we, as humans, naturally wonder what it’s like to die. At least, I do, anyway. It’s the one thing that nobody’s able to prove to us with math or logic or physics or anything of that sort. It’s the one thing that we’ll never have a perfect understanding of until it happens to us. Even then, we can’t tell anyone.

What happens to you when you die depends on what you believe. What you’ve done in your life. If you’re Catholic, you go to Heaven or Hell. If you’re Hindu, you’re born again, into a better life or a lesser life. If you’re Agnostic, you find out the thing you’ve wondered for your whole life. If you’re a follower of Islam, you find out where God has already chosen for you to go. If you’re Buddhist, you’re one step closer to achieving Nirvana. If you’re Atheist, you go in the ground no matter what.

It’s not exactly something we can study. Once you’re dead, you’re, uhm… you’re pretty much dead. Of course there are surgery patients who have scientifically been dead, but they all say the same thing. They either say something about a light, loved ones, or utter blackness.

Take it from me. When you’re dead, you see black. You see a whole lot of black for a really long time…

Then comes the stereotypical light at the end of the tunnel.

Let me tell you that when you reach the end of the tunnel, you fall out, on your ass, on the ground. And I think I know why the light is white instead of some other color (I always wondered why it would be white instead of your favorite color, as to entice you to go toward it).

It’s snowing in the afterlife.

And you’re hardly wearing anything.

Whatever God everyone’s fought so hard to prove exists instead of all the other ones - what does he think and want? He wants you to be pretty much nude, and he thinks that you should be standing in the center of a small village with very minimal light, in the middle of a freak snowstorm.

I knew I hated religion for a reason. What, God? You didn’t hate me enough while I was alive, so you have to make my afterlife suck, too? You have to make it so I’m totally alone, in the middle of nowhere, in the freezing cold? If my life wasn’t a big middle finger to me, then this is.

Another thing! Not only is it lonely and cold here, but it’s friggin’ dark. Like nighttime dark. Like the sun burned out dark. He couldn’t even make it daytime…

I wasn’t sure what the hell I was wearing, but it wasn’t very thick, and I couldn’t make out what it was. The material covering my body was soft in most areas, but feeling around, I came across bumps. They were small, but there were a lot of them, all over my chest and stomach. When I couldn’t feel those, I could feel the material of my current piece wrapped in circles around me over and over again, and the first thing my demented mind thought of was a mummy.