It's been a long day at work, and the young man has barely started his journey home.

Through the hills of Venezuela, he looks out to the sky, a light purple now, as a whole town begins to get swallowed by the darkness.

Cecilia, the woman from the fruit stand, waves at him before loading up her arms with a basket

of banana peels and her unsolved papayas.

She knows he's not going to buy anything this time.

She shuts the window and heads back to her house right behind the trees.

Up ahead, the mechanic opened his front door on the side of the road, and watch as the

mosquitoes begin to circle around the light of his porch.

Just around the next hill, he would see his wife waiting for him outside.

She tended to worry, especially when things got dark.

He was almost there when, from behind him, he heard it.

The faded sounds of the whistler.

He remembered the story, the cursed man who roams the earth, the dark, whistling.

He hears a melody right there next to him now, and he ran.

His wife saw him and signaled him to run faster, yelling, hurry up. The whistler fades away as he

steps up to his own porch, and then inside the house. He knew he was safe. In South America,

there is a famous urban legend that has terrified children and believers

for generations.

The stories of a cursed man, carrying something behind his back as he roams the dark streets.

Here is a legend of El Silbonne, the Whistler.

My name is Edwin, and here's the dark memory.

El Cilbon has been known to bring fear to children, but the figure itself has been intertwined

...