Working Title: The Serpent's Whisper

Working Title: The Serpent's Whisper

Universe: The Serpent's Rest Chronicles

Current Status: First Draft

Target Release: Early 2025

Brief Hook:

Dive into the mysteries of Serpent's Rest with Nate Gentry, a curious boy drawn to ancient secrets and magical artifacts. When a serpent-shaped amulet binds him to the town's hidden powers, Nate must navigate a labyrinth of riddles, danger, and spectral guardians to protect his newfound home. Will he uncover the truth behind the legendary Serpent Mound, or will it consume him in its ancient grip?

Sample Scene:

Chapter 1

Nate stepped off the bus, his sneakers crunching against the uneven cobblestones of Serpent’s Rest. The air smelled different here—cleaner, sharper, with a faint undercurrent of something earthy, like damp moss after a rainstorm. He adjusted the strap of his backpack, his eyes darting over the scene before him. The town looked like it had been plucked straight from one of those history books his teacher always droned on about, with its narrow streets and squat brick buildings, each one leaning slightly, as if they were whispering secrets to their neighbors. The shop signs hanging above the doors swung lazily in the breeze, their painted letters faded but still legible: Quibble’s Curiosities, Hawkins’ Hardware, The Serpent’s Tail Diner. It was the kind of place where time seemed to shuffle along at its own pace, unbothered by the rush of the outside world.

The quiet hit him first. Back in the city, there was always noise—car horns, people shouting, the distant wail of a siren. But here, the only sounds were the occasional creak of a sign, the soft rustle of leaves, and a low hum of conversation from a group of older folks sitting on a bench by the general store. Even the wind seemed to whisper instead of howl. Nate shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how loud his breathing felt in the stillness.

His gaze drifted past the town’s tidy rows of buildings and up toward the horizon, where the Serpent Mound slithered across the landscape like some ancient guardian. Its coiled body rose and fell with the contours of the land, the head poised as if ready to strike. From this distance, it was hard to make out the details, but its sheer size was enough to send a shiver down Nate’s spine. He’d heard about it, of course—his parents had mentioned it in passing, something about Native American history and “a good educational experience.” But seeing it in person was different. It felt alive, like it was watching him, its presence humming just beneath the surface of his thoughts.

“Don’t just stand there gawking, boy. You’ll attract flies.”

Nate turned sharply to find Aunt Beatrice grinning at him from the driver’s seat of a battered turquoise Jeep parked at the curb. Her wild gray hair was barely contained by a scarf dotted with tiny suns and moons, and her earrings—feathers, of course—swayed with every exaggerated nod of her head. She waved him over, the bangles on her wrist jangling like wind chimes.

“Come on, Nate,” she called. “This town won’t explore itself, and I certainly don’t have the patience to wait for you to grow roots right there on the spot.”

He grinned despite himself and jogged over, tossing his bag into the back seat. As he climbed in, the scent of lavender and something vaguely spicy hit him, filling the small space. Beatrice had the kind of energy that made it hard to tell if she was about to burst into song or lecture you on the history of the universe.

“So,” she said, throwing the Jeep into gear with a theatrical flourish, “what do you think of our little slice of paradise? Quaint enough for you? Or do you miss the symphony of car alarms already?”

“It’s... quiet,” Nate admitted, glancing out the window as they rolled past a row of houses, each one painted a slightly different shade of pastel. “But it’s cool. Different.”

“Different,” Beatrice echoed, her grin widening. “Oh, honey, you don’t know the half of it yet.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “This town has secrets, you know. Big ones. The kind that make your hair stand on end and your toes curl. But we’ll get to that. First, lunch.”

As they turned a corner, the Serpent Mound disappeared from view, but its presence lingered in Nate’s mind. The summer stretched ahead of him, full of possibilities and—if Aunt Beatrice was to be believed—mysteries. Something told him he wouldn’t miss the city at all.

The bell above the door jangled as Aunt Beatrice pushed it open, ushering Nate into her curiosity shop with a flourish. “Welcome to Widdershins Wonders!” she declared, her voice lilting like a carnival barker’s. “Where the past meets the peculiar, and the peculiar meets... well, me!” She cackled, the sound bouncing off the cluttered walls.

Nate stepped inside, his sneakers sinking into a threadbare Persian rug that stretched across the creaky wooden floor. The air was thick with the scent of old paper, beeswax candles, and something faintly herbal—maybe sage or lavender. The dim light filtering through stained-glass windows cast fractured rainbows over shelves crammed with strange and wondrous objects. Masks with hollow eyes leered at him from the walls, and glass cases displayed everything from rusted tools to delicate jewelry that looked like it had been unearthed from some ancient tomb.

“Whoa,” Nate breathed, his eyes roving over the chaos. It wasn’t like any store he’d ever been in. It wasn’t like anywhere he’d ever been. Every corner seemed to hum with mystery, as if the objects themselves whispered stories he couldn’t quite hear.

Beatrice swept past him, her bangles jingling as she gestured dramatically toward a shelf that sagged under the weight of books. “Over there, we’ve got tomes on everything from alchemy to zoology. And here,” she said, spinning on her heel, “you’ll find artifacts so strange they make Bigfoot look like your average house cat.” She plucked a small jar from a nearby table and held it aloft. “Pickled dragonfly, wings intact. Very rare.”

Nate grinned, but his attention was already drifting. His eyes snagged on something nestled at the back of a glass cabinet, half-hidden behind a cluster of tarnished silver goblets. It was a serpent-shaped object, its sleek body coiled as if ready to strike. The carvings etched into its surface shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost alive.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

Beatrice followed his gaze, her expression shifting from playful to something more serious. She set the jar down and crossed the room, unlocking the cabinet with a key that hung from a chain around her neck. “Ah,” she said softly, lifting the serpent out with both hands. “This one’s special.”

Up close, Nate could see the carvings more clearly. They weren’t random patterns—they were symbols, intricate and looping, like something you’d see on ancient stone tablets in a museum. The serpent’s eyes, tiny chips of green stone, seemed to gleam with their own inner light.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, reaching out instinctively. But Beatrice pulled it back, cradling it like a fragile bird.

“Beautiful, yes,” she said. “But also dangerous.” Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, and she leaned closer. “This came from the mound. Or so the story goes. Found it buried near the head, half-covered in moss. The man who dug it up swore it hummed in his hands, like it was alive.”

Nate frowned. “What happened to him?”

Beatrice tilted her head, her earrings swaying. “No one knows. He disappeared a week later. Some say he went mad, started seeing things that weren’t there, little hooded creatures. Others say the mound called him back.” She shrugged, but her eyes held a glint of warning. “The mound doesn’t like to be disturbed, Nate. It doesn’t take kindly to meddlers.”

For a moment, the shop seemed to grow quieter, the usual creaks and groans of the old building fading into stillness. Nate swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the serpent. “Do you think it’s true?” he asked. “About the mound?”

“True or not,” Beatrice said, carefully placing the serpent back in the cabinet and turning the key with a decisive click, “it’s best to show respect. Some things are better left undisturbed.”

Nate shifted his weight, the floorboards creaking beneath him. His heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t fear—it was excitement. The serpent, the mound, the mysteries Beatrice hinted at—it all felt like the start of something big. Something he couldn’t wait to uncover.

Nate bounded into the living room, his sneakers squeaking against the polished wood floor. The house smelled faintly of lavender and something sweet—maybe cinnamon—though it was hard to tell with all the other scents mingling together. He dropped his backpack by the door with a thud, the sound echoing in the quiet space. His grin widened as he spotted Lila standing by the bay window, arms crossed and posture impossibly straight, like she was bracing for an interrogation.

“Lila!” he called, his voice bouncing off the high ceilings. “This place is amazing! Did you see the mound yet? It’s huge! Like, way bigger than I thought it’d be. And Aunt Beatrice’s shop—man, it’s like stepping into a treasure chest!”

Lila turned, her red curls catching the light filtering through the lace curtains. She didn’t smile, though her lips twitched slightly, as if she’d thought about it but decided against it. “I saw the mound,” she said, her voice even and measured. “It’s... interesting.”

“Interesting?” Nate echoed, moving closer. He threw his arms wide, as if to encompass the entire town. “It’s more than interesting—it’s epic! Don’t you want to check it out? I mean, who knows what’s out there waiting to be discovered?”

Lila tilted her head, her green eyes narrowing just a fraction. “I’m sure it’s fascinating,” she said carefully. “But it’s also a historical site. You can’t just go running around like it’s a jungle gym.”

Nate blinked, momentarily thrown off by her matter-of-fact tone. “Who said anything about running? I’m talking about exploring. You know, like Indiana Jones. Or, I dunno, someone who actually does stuff.” He jabbed his thumb toward his chest for emphasis, his grin returning.

Lila raised an eyebrow, her arms tightening across her chest. “And what exactly do you think you’re going to find? Buried treasure? Ancient curses? Nate, it’s just a mound.”

“Just a mound?” Nate’s voice pitched higher, his disbelief practically crackling in the air. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you? Aunt Beatrice said it’s got secrets—big ones. And I mean, look at this place!” He gestured wildly toward the window, where the rooftops of Serpent’s Rest peeked out from the trees. “It’s practically begging us to figure it out.”

Lila sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly, though the guarded look in her eyes didn’t waver. “It’s not that simple,” she murmured, her fingers toying with the charm bracelet on her wrist. The soft clinking of the tiny charms was the only sound for a moment, filling the space between them.

Nate’s excitement faltered, just for a beat. He watched her closely, noticing the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as if trying to anchor herself. She wasn’t just cautious—she was holding back, like there was something she wasn’t saying.

“C’mon, Lila,” he said, his tone softening. “Don’t you want to know what’s out there? I mean, what’s the point of being here if we’re not gonna at least try to figure it out?”

Lila’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. But then she glanced out the window again, her gaze lingering on the horizon where the Serpent Mound loomed in the distance.

“I just think we should be careful,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “Some things are better left alone.”

Nate frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of her words. “Better left alone?” he repeated, his tone tinged with disbelief. “Lila, that’s—”

“Look,” she interrupted, turning back to face him fully. Her expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something else—something almost like worry—in her eyes. “You can do whatever you want, Nate. I’m just saying we shouldn’t rush into anything without thinking it through.”

“Thinking it through,” Nate muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. “Right. Because that’s how all the great adventurers did it—by sitting around and overthinking everything.”

Lila didn’t respond, but the slight quirk of her eyebrow was enough to make Nate huff in frustration. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind already racing with possibilities. If she wasn’t going to join in, fine. He’d just have to figure it out on his own.

But as he glanced back at her, standing there with her arms still crossed and her gaze distant, he couldn’t shake the feeling that her caution wasn’t just about the mound. It was something else—something bigger. And whether she liked it or not, he was determined to find out what it was.

Nate sat cross-legged on the worn Persian rug, his elbows braced on his knees, leaning so far forward it seemed he might tumble headfirst into Aunt Beatrice’s story. Her voice, lilting and full of theatrical pauses, wrapped around the room like the incense curling from the brass dish on the counter. She spoke of the Serpent Mound with reverence and warning, her words painting vivid pictures of ancient rituals, unexplained disappearances, and whispers carried by the wind that no one dared to follow.

“...and that’s how the mound got its reputation,” Beatrice concluded, her voice dropping to an ominous hush. She clasped her hands together, rings clicking softly, and leaned back against the counter with a knowing smile. “It’s a keeper of secrets, Nate. Secrets that bite back if you’re not careful.”

Nate’s heart thudded against his ribs, but it wasn’t fear that gripped him—it was exhilaration. His mind buzzed with possibilities. He could see himself standing on the mound in the dead of night, flashlight in hand, uncovering truths that had eluded everyone else. Beatrice’s warnings rolled off him like water on waxed paper, their sharp edges dulled by his own relentless curiosity. Dangerous? Sure. But wasn’t danger just another word for adventure?

“Bite back, huh?” he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That just means there’s something worth finding.”

Beatrice arched a silver eyebrow, her bangles jangling faintly as she crossed her arms. “Oh, you’re a bold one, aren’t you? Just like your father was at your age. But boldness doesn’t always end well, dear. Sometimes it ends with you being swallowed whole.”

Nate chuckled, brushing her words aside like stray crumbs. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

In the corner of the room, Lila shifted, her movement barely more than a shadow flickering against the wall. She was perched on the edge of an armchair, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her face half-hidden by the curtain of her curls. She hadn’t said a word since Beatrice began her tale, and Nate couldn’t tell if she was bored, annoyed, or just quietly absorbing every detail. Her silence was unnerving, like the stillness before a storm.

“You’ve got that look, Lila,” Nate said, turning to her with a teasing lilt. “The one that says, ‘I think this is a bad idea, but I’m too polite to say so.’”

Lila’s green eyes flicked up to meet his, her expression unreadable. “It’s not that,” she said softly, her voice measured and calm. “I just think Aunt Beatrice has a point. Some things are better left alone.”

“Better left alone?” Nate scoffed, throwing his hands up in mock despair. “C’mon, Lila. Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t you want to know what’s really out there?”

“I want to know,” she said, her tone steady but cool. “But I also don’t want to end up like the guy who disappeared. Or worse.”

Nate snorted, leaning back on his hands. “That’s just a story. Probably made up to keep people from poking around. You really think the mound’s going to, what, eat us?”

Lila didn’t answer right away. She glanced toward the glass cabinet where the serpent artifact rested, its green eyes glinting faintly even in the dim light. “I think,” she said finally, “there’s a difference between curiosity and recklessness. And you don’t always know where the line is.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, but Nate wasn’t in the mood to back down. He leaned forward again, his grin widening. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not afraid to find out.”

Beatrice watched the exchange with a faint smile, her eyes twinkling with something between amusement and concern. “You’re both right, you know,” she said, her voice light but edged with something deeper. “Curiosity opens doors, but it’s up to you whether you step through carefully or go charging in. Just remember—once you’ve stepped through, there’s no going back.”

Nate nodded, though her words only fueled the fire in his chest. He could already picture the adventure ahead, the thrill of the unknown calling to him like a siren’s song. Lila, however, stayed quiet, her gaze fixed on the artifact as if it might reveal its secrets if she stared long enough.

To Nate, her hesitation only confirmed what he already suspected: if he was going to uncover the mound’s secrets, he’d have to do it on his own.

That night, Nate lay on his back, staring at the wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling of the guest room. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the lace curtains, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the walls. He could hear the house settling around him—the occasional creak of a floorboard, the faint groan of the old pipes, and the whisper of a breeze sneaking through the cracked window. Outside, cicadas hummed their endless song, a rhythm so steady it felt like the pulse of the night itself.

But Nate’s own pulse was anything but steady.

The serpent artifact sat on the desk across the room, its coiled form barely visible in the faint light. Yet Nate couldn’t look away. He’d tried closing his eyes, tried counting backward from a hundred, even tried imagining himself back home in the city, where the honking of car horns and the glow of streetlights were as constant as the stars. None of it worked. The artifact and Beatrice’s words swirled in his mind, refusing to let him rest.

“Secrets that bite back,” she’d said, her voice still ringing in his ears. He pictured her expression again, the way her eyes had gleamed with both mischief and warning. It was the kind of thing an adult might say to scare a kid into behaving, but Beatrice wasn’t like most adults. She didn’t lecture or nag. She knew things—things most people didn’t. And that made her warnings impossible to shrug off completely.

Still, Nate couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of what might be out there. The Serpent Mound, ancient and mysterious, loomed large in his imagination. He pictured himself standing atop it, flashlight in hand, uncovering secrets that had been buried for centuries. What if there really was something hidden beneath it? Something no one else had dared to find?

He rolled onto his side, the old mattress creaking beneath him. His leather necklace shifted against his neck, the small stone pendant cool against his skin. He reached up to touch it, his fingers tracing the smooth edges. It had always been a comfort to him, a little reminder of home, but tonight it felt different—heavier, almost. Like it was tied to something bigger than him, something he didn’t quite understand yet.

The cicadas’ hum grew louder for a moment, or maybe that was just his imagination. Nate sighed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet met the cool wooden floor, and he shivered slightly, though the night was warm. The house felt alive in a way he hadn’t noticed before, every sound and shadow charged with an energy that made his skin prickle.

He glanced at the desk again. The serpent artifact seemed to glint faintly in the moonlight, as if it were watching him, waiting. He shook his head, trying to shake the thought loose. “It’s just a piece of metal,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice sounded too loud in the stillness.

But was it? Beatrice had called it a “keeper of secrets.” What did that even mean? His fingers itched to pick it up again, to examine it more closely, but he stayed where he was, torn between his curiosity and the lingering echo of Lila’s voice: Some things are better left alone.

“Better left alone,” he repeated, testing the words. They felt heavy on his tongue, like they didn’t quite belong to him. Leaving things alone wasn’t really his style. He was the kind of person who needed to know, who needed to see for himself. And yet, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure if that was the right call.

The floorboards outside his door creaked, and he froze, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he thought someone might be there—Beatrice, maybe, or Lila, checking to see if he’d fallen asleep. But the sound faded, leaving only the cicadas and the faint rustle of the wind.

Nate exhaled slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. He lay back down, pulling the quilt up to his chin. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight, not with his mind so full of questions. But one thing was certain: the answers weren’t going to come to him while he lay here, waiting.

By the time the first pale streaks of dawn stretched across the sky, Nate had made up his mind. He sat perched on the windowsill of the guest room, his knees drawn up to his chest, watching as the horizon shifted from deep indigo to smoky lavender. The lace curtains fluttered faintly in the early morning breeze, carrying with it the crisp scent of dew-soaked grass and the faint tang of earth. Somewhere far off, a lone bird cut through the silence with a tentative chirp, as if testing the morning for danger. Nate’s fingers toyed absently with the pendant around his neck, its smooth surface grounding him as his thoughts raced.

He had tried to sleep—really, he had—but the questions swirling in his head had refused to settle. The Serpent Mound loomed too large in his mind, its coiled form etched into his thoughts like a brand. What secrets was it hiding? And how could something so ancient still feel so alive, so charged with energy? Aunt Beatrice’s warnings, Lila’s cautious words—they all seemed to blur together now, drowned out by the steady drumbeat of his own curiosity. He couldn’t just let it go. That wasn’t who he was.

The faint glow of the sun began to edge over the hills, painting the town of Serpent’s Rest in soft, golden light. The rooftops glistened faintly with dew, and the shadowy outline of the Serpent Mound rose in the distance, dark and enigmatic against the morning sky. Nate squinted at it, his breath fogging the glass. Even from here, it seemed to pulse with an unspoken challenge, daring him to come closer. The thought sent a shiver of both excitement and trepidation down his spine.

He glanced over his shoulder at the serpent artifact still sitting on the desk. In the daylight, it would probably look ordinary—just a piece of metal shaped into a coil. But in the moonlight, it had seemed alive, its green eyes gleaming with an almost predatory awareness. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was connected to the mound somehow, like a key waiting to unlock a door. And if Beatrice wasn’t going to tell him the full story, well, he’d just have to figure it out himself.

The plan came together in his mind as he watched the sun climb higher, its rays stretching out like fingers to brush against the tops of the trees. He’d start with Beatrice’s shop. There had to be something there—old books, maps, maybe even another artifact—that could give him a clue about what he was dealing with. And if he didn’t find what he was looking for, there was always the mound itself. He could explore it during the day, under the guise of innocent curiosity. After all, what harm could a kid with a flashlight and a thirst for adventure do?

Nate’s lips curved into a grin, the kind that always made his mom say he looked like he was up to no good. Maybe he was. But wasn’t that part of the fun? He had a whole summer ahead of him, and he wasn’t about to spend it sitting around waiting for answers to fall into his lap. If the mound was as dangerous as everyone seemed to think, then that just meant there was something worth finding. And he was going to be the one to find it.

The light outside grew stronger, chasing away the last remnants of night. The town began to stir—an engine revving in the distance, the faint clatter of someone opening a shop window. Nate pressed his forehead against the cool glass, his pulse quickening. The Serpent Mound stood silent and still on the horizon, but it felt like it was watching him, waiting for him to make the first move.

Behind the Scenes: This series was born from a desire to produce more works with young men or boys as the main active character. I want to write something that I would have liked to read as a kid. Someone with agency and real character. I don’t feel that the industry at large has done a fantastic job at promoting young men as protagonists, so this is my attempt at correcting that.