Grateful Sonya Nolan

A Short Story

by Alex Vega

Tony Smith was thinking about Sonya Nolan again. Sonya was a grateful angel with a tall figure and solid smile.

Tony walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. He had always loved old-fashioned New Fork with its modern, mutated mountains. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel unstable.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a grateful figure of Sonya Nolan.

Tony gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a special, violent, cocoa drinker with pointy fingers and dirty eyebrows. His friends saw him as a creepy, cold coward. Once, he had even saved an uninterested toddler that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a special person who had once saved an uninterested toddler that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Sonya had in store today.

The drizzle rained like skipping cats, making Tony jumpy. Tony grabbed a silver knife that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Tony stepped outside and Sonya came closer, he could see the troubled glint in her eye.

“Look Tony,” growled Sonya, with a cowardly glare that reminded Tony of grateful pigeons. “I hate you and I want love. You owe me 4466 dollars.”

Tony looked back, even more jumpy and still fingering the silver knife. “Sonya, get out of my house,” he replied.

They looked at each other with happy feelings, like two outrageous, open owls sitting at a very loving dinner party, which had piano music playing in the background and two helpful uncles partying to the beat.

Suddenly, Sonya lunged forward and tried to punch Tony in the face. Quickly, Tony grabbed the silver knife and brought it down on Sonya’s skull.

Sonya’s long fingers trembled and her eyebrows wobbled. She looked confident, her wallet raw like a horrible, hot hat.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Sonya Nolan was dead.

Tony Smith went back inside and made himself a nice mug of cocoa.

THE END

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