When I was a little kid, my mother would tell me about El Silbon or "The man who whistles", in English. The legend of El Silbon varies from person to person, but this is the version I grew up with, and personally, the one I find most frightening:

There once was boy, who lived happily with his mother, father and grandfather in Los Llanos (a region in Venezuela). They lived a simple life of farming, however, the boy the parents raised was a very spoiled child. He would not eat certain foods and would cry out until his parents pleased him. One day, the boy asked his father to hunt deer for them to eat, as the deer was his favorite. The father decided to please his son and hunt a deer for him to eat. Sadly, after hours of searching, he failed to return with anything.

Ever so hungry, upon seeing that his father had returned empty-handed, he took his father's hunting knife and killed him with it. At that moment, the mother and the grandfather rushed inside, only to find the boy standing over his father's corpse. As the mother cried for her husband, the grandfather took it upon himself to punish the boy...

First, he tied the boy to a tree and with a whip, he struck his back repeatedly until he bleed. Then he would squeeze lemons on his back. And finally gave him a sack, filled with his father's remains, and cast him away into the plains to carry them as he sets the dogs after him. But before he unleashed the dogs, as the boy walked away, his grandfather cursed him "Eso no se le hace a su padre...Maldito eres, pa´ toa´ la vida" (You should not have done that to your father... You will be damned, for the rest of your life!) He grandfather yelled as he released his grip on ropes and freed the dogs. As the dogs chased him, the boy whistled, in a very distinct manner, following the traditional musical scale (Do-Re-Mi-Fa-Sol-La-Si-Do or C-D-E-F-G-A-B-C) until the dogs finally caught up to him.

And so, the boy was cursed, left to wonder the plains, bringing death to anyone whom he may happen to across. Unlike other urban legends of my country, El Silbon, does not pursue a specific brand of victims. He is regarded, as an omen of death for anyone who wonders the plains at night. He would follow his victims, first from afar, until gradually catching up to them. He is tricky, for at first, you will hear his whistling coming very close, expecting you to run away, and as you hear the whistling fade in the distance, you will feel relieve as you think this means you are safe... But in reality, the further the whistle... The closer he is.

He will have an old farming hat, he will be very skinny... But what will set him apart, is that he will be carrying a large sack which clicks and clacks as he walks... Some say that inside the sack are the bones of his latest victims... But more likely, they are the bones of his father... Destined to carry them forever.