A Father Scene from Second Sight...

Continuing with the “Scenes with Fathers” theme of the month, today I have a special author guest visiting. She’s one of my favorite YA novelists. I love everything she writes, and you will too. Her name is Dax Varley, and she is sharing a scene from her novella Second Sight that features a father. Enjoy the scene and read the blurb about the book below. You’ll also see links to find her book if it captures your interest. And please, feel free to leave a comment for Dax or me.

Gena Richmond is a collector of shades…sunglasses, that is. Every size, shape, color and style. So when she finds an unusual pair at a secondhand shop, it’s love at first sight. But these glasses are more than simple sun-blockers. They show her visions of what’s to come…and what’s coming is heart-stopping horrific.




“Dad?” I pushed open his door a sliver. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my insides have been shrink-wrapped.” He slowly lay back down. “You better stay out. I don’t want you to catch this.”

“Hang on.” I went to the other bathroom, grabbed the Lysol, then sprayed choking mists in front of me as I went back. I painted his doorjamb with it, peeked into his room again, and shot a cloud so thick it looked like fireworks raining down. “Seriously, Dad, I’m here if you need anything. Water…Imodium…a pen to sign your will.”

“I’m good,” he mumbled.

“Okay.” I sprayed a ton more Lysol everywhere and started back to my room. I was just steps away from it when, Zzzzuh—flash! I was hovering next to Anne in a darkened room. Her eyes were black and doll-like, and she whimpered, “I can’t see.” Zzzzuh—flash! I was back in my Lysol-enameled hallway.

I leaned against the wall, a tad woozy. My heart revved. Anne? Blind? After a breath or two, I rushed for my phone and texted her. Hey, can you see this? Then I waited. A full minute passed. Anne, whose cell is surgically attached to her hand, didn’t answer. This is so not good. I hiked my sunnies up and paced. I did a back and forth for another minute, then called. It rang for an eternity before the robot lady said, You’ve reached the voice mailbox--I hung up. This was insane.

I went back to pacing. Think, Gena, think. Why would you see Anne with her eyes clawed out? Clawed out? I was only there a split second. I didn’t remember seeing blood. Maybe they were burned out with a hot poker. Gah! Anne, please text me back!

I let another five minutes pass, then grabbed my purse and the Lysol. I spray-bombed the hallway back to Dad’s room and creaked open his door. He was in the fetal position, hands on his belly. I shot another Lysol spritz. “Dad?”

He groaned. “Huh?”

“Remember a few minutes ago when I said I’m here if you need anything?”

“Gena, if you need go somewhere, that’s fine.” He pointed to his nightstand. Half of the local pharmacy was crowded on top. No wonder he’d insisted Rachel use his credit card.

“I’m just going over to Anne’s house. I’ll try not to be long. Text me if you need me, okay? And try not to overdose.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he winced. “Go hang out. Live germ-free.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

       He actually smiled. Phew! That lightened the guilt.

You can get this wonderful story at Amazon.

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Dax Varley writes the kind of young adult novels she wishes were around when she was a teen. She’s a lover of humor, horror and all things paranormal.

When Dax isn’t writing, she’s collecting odd photos online, reading recaps of her favorite shows or kicked back with a good book. She lives in Richmond, Texas with her husband, a shelf full of action figures and about a dozen imaginary friends.

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