Satan is dead
Satan is dead. He was killed not by the defenders of light, not by the sculptors of the rainbow, not by the weavers of snowflakes. They have long been in captivity and cannot break free. Satan was killed by those whom he tried to drag with him but who turned out to be too weak to follow him. He was killed by the prayers for forgiveness said in front of the window bars, by the hesitation in the finger on the trigger, by the hand offered to the worst of traitors. Nobody came to kill him personally. He died because of the lack of a killer.
This marked the end of the dark spectrum. Now the world is pink and content. All people love each other, embrace each other, get on well with each other. All approve all. Honey is pouring from the beehives and couples of butterflies are fluttering among the flowers. Happiness is full, ceaseless, endless.
A river was made to flow through the desert, electricity was brought to the jungle, fireplaces were built on the poles. Predators’ teeth were pulled out and plants’ thorns were ripped off. Poisons were transformed into medicines, the rifles were left to decorate the walls, the swords were melted into nuts. The cherry trees were forbidden to fade, the volcanoes were obliged to remain quiet, the oceans were not allowed anymore to sink people into their embraces.
Darkness was erased. In the places where the Sun refused to shine, people put colorful lights and then started dancing holding their hands.
Hatred was burnt. Kind apathy started living in its chambers. As a sign of gratitude, it made all people its permanent guests.
Conflict was cast away. Only strength and heroism followed it. Humanity celebrated their departure in an untroubled peace.
Monsters were not killed. They were rehabilitated. People called them big fluffy balls and started to feed them with candy.
Death was defeated. It could only take its victims if they looked it in the eyes. But now no one could move their gaze from their beautiful white house with a yard and a fence.
Now, there are daisies growing on Satan’s grave. Children songs resound in the meadows around and a white unicorn is calmly drinking water from the clear lake nearby. Idyll.