Author's Note: OMG YOU GOTTA BE KIDDIN'!!!!! I HAVE 75 VIEWS!! Thank you guys you are the best. I know it's not much but it is for me! Oh and please comment! I want to know what you think. Now onto work! This book will not be in the PJO version, unfortunately. Oh, and you guys can recommend any names you want to come in this book.

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This Urban Legend takes place a really long time ago, and maybe it will not be suitable for kids. In the story, they don't mention the boy's name so he will be... umm... Henry. Anyone named Henry, please don't mind. I'm sorry... Also the story takes place in Venezuela.

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13-year-old Henry stared at his parents in distaste as they worked. He laid on the old crusty sofa, wondering why they cannot get to live in a good house. Finally, he sat up.

"Mom, dad." He growled. "I want candy, NOW!"

"Uhm, o-okay." His mother stammered. "I will go get you some, my son." With that, his mother left.

"Dad, I'm hungry. You are so lazy! Ugh, just go get me some food, you stupid man!" Henry yelled and threw a pillow.

"Yes, my son. I will get you your meal right now." The father left for the kitchen. What Henry didn't know was that his grandfather, Jim, was watching from his room. His grandfather hated the way Henry spoke to his parents, but for his son's sake, he never showed any discipline to Henry. At least not in front of them.

His grandfather came out from behind the door and stormed towards his grandson. He grabbed him by his neck and lifted him from the couch.

"If I ever see you behaving like that with your parents, ever, I will punish you in such a way, you will grieve being born." He snarled and let Henry drop on the floor. Henry scrambled away, for he was scared of his grandfather. After eating his dinner and candy, he went to bed.

* * *

Early in the morning, after his breakfast, Henry wanted to go out hunting. He also wanted to eat the entrails of a deer for lunch, so he went to his father, who was in the kitchen with his mother and grandfather.

"Dad, I want to go hunt a deer. I want to eat its entrails for lunch, so go get our hunting knives."

"Yes, son. It'll be a minute." Henry wanted to tell him to make it quick but his grandfather was in the same room so he decided not to.

After some time, Henry and his father were in the middle of the forest. Henry was tired so he sat down and told his father to go hunt a deer. With that, he lay on the soft luscious green grass and closed his eyes.

Henry's father wanted his son to feel proud of him, so he immediately began looking for a deer. He was a good hunter, so he was convinced he was going to find one. Alas, there wasn't even a shred of evidence that a deer lives in that forest. Worried about how disappointed his son might be, he went back to Henry and woke him up. He swallowed and started talking.

"My son, I am sorry, but there is not even a sign that a deer lives here. I have looked on for hours and hours on end but with no luck. I hope you will forgive me. I will do anything for you." The father said.

"Well then, close your eyes and wait," Henry growled, grabbing his hunting knife.

"Yes, son." The father closed his eyes. "Forgive me, son, I will bring you the entrails of a deer tomor-" He was interrupted by a sharp pain in his gut and opened his eyes to find his son's hunting knife deep in his stomach. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out except blood. He fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. Henry looked down at him and just smiled.

"I will get my entrails, even if it is from something as disgusting and disappointing as you." With that, he cut his father alive, squeezing out his entrails. After he was done, he wiped his forehead with his bloody hands, coating it, and then picked up his father's entrails.

He stumbled out of the forest and into his house, where he found his mother doing the dishes in the sink. Henry' grandfather was standing nearby, watching in horror as his grandson cradled some bloody entrails into the kitchen. He looked for his son but couldn't see him.

"Mother." Henry smiled, holding out his father's entrails. "I got you some entrails. Cook them, I want to eat them now."

''Okay, son. Give me a sec-" His mother turned around, and her gasp got covered with the sound of shattering caused by the dish that she dropped. "S-son... what animal's entrails are these and where is your father?"

"Father is in the forest. He is sleeping. Oh, and I got these entrails from father."

"Where did your father find them?" His mother asked, shaking.

"He was growing them in him." His mother covered her mouth with her hand and broke into sobs. She fell to the floor, and grandfather Jim came from behind the door, glowering with anger. He held a rope, a piece of lemon, a jar of salt and a really thin bat, and grabbed Henry by the hand and dragged him out of the house. Henry bit and screamed and scratched, but with no avail. He was dragged to the forest where his grandfather threw him next to his dead father.

  "You- you murdered your own father. For that, you must receive a punishment." The grandfather tried to hold in his tears, but the trailed down his cheeks. He grabbed Henry and tied him to a tree, his back facing him. Then, he took the tin bat and began whipping him.

  The sudden shock of pain made Henry scream. The pain was unimaginable, something he never felt, and never wishes to feel. THWAP.  One hit. THWAP. A second bloody line paralleled the first. Henry cried with every hit, and in a couple of seconds, his black was soaking with blood, his skin peeling. 

  After some more, the grandfather was gasping for air. His tears had dried up but returned when he thought of his late son. 

  "This is not over." He said grabbing the lemon. He threw it at Henry's bruised back, making him yelp in pain. He sat down next to his son and wiped his tears with his thumb. "I will avenge you, son. He will be punished. But I'm sorry if it hurts you. I need to take that knife. Please forgive me." 

  With that, he grabbed the hilt of the hunting knife, embedded in his son's stomach, and pulled it quickly. Jim got up and wiped his son's blood on his pants. He used the shining knife to cut the lemon into two halves. 

  He walked over to Henry and braced himself for the screaming that was about to come. Jim held up one half of the lemon and used all his strength to squeeze the lemon juice on Henry's bruised and bloody back.

  Henry's scream echoed through the forest, so far and wide that his poor sobbing mother could hear it. He screamed so loud that birds flew away and the squirrels escaped the forest. But grandfather Jim didn't stop. He kept on squeezing until half a dried up lemon peel lay on his palm.

  "Still not finished." Jim grabbed the other half and squeezed the rest on Henry's back. Henry screamed and screamed until his voice was hoarse, but Jim was still not done. He grabbed at the jar of salt and grabbed a fistful. He then rubbed the salt on Henry's burning back. Henry wasn't supposed to have any voice to scream, but the sharp burning pain changed it. His scream, once again, rang on and on.

  Jim fell to the ground, gasping. He rested his hand on his knees and took deep, deep breaths. He wasn't strong enough to murder him without killing himself, so he decided to do something else. He walked over to his dead son and grabbed the knife. He gently cut his son, revealing his bones. He began pulling out his bones and piling them on the ground. After he was done, he walked out of the forest and into his house.

  He saw his daughter in law, still sitting on the ground, still sobbing. He walked past her, as he knew that she knew what he was doing. He grabbed a big sack and walked to the forest. He found Henry asleep, he had probably passed out due to the pain. Jim gently put his son's bones in the sack, tied it, and threw it at Henry's back. Henry yelped and woke up to find his grandfather untying him.

  "I will give you a headstart. You will take that sack of your father's bones and run with it. You cannot stop running. If you do, my dog will chase you and kill you. So start now, or you will be dog feed."

  Henry grabbed the sack and began running. When he was so far away that he looked like a blob, Jim whistled. His dog, Tureco, ran up, smacking and snapping his jaws. 

  "Kill!" Jim yelled, pointing at Henry, who was now a dot. The dog chased after Henry, and Jim, tired, buried his son's remains and walked back home.

  Meanwhile, Henry was running. He was usually very fast, but after being tortured, he didn't have much strength. He slowed down, and the dog reached him. For the uncountable time, Henry's scream rang through the forest as he was torn to bits and shreds.

                                                                                *  *  *

  This had happened many years ago. But the whistling man, he is Henry's tortured spirit. After he died, Henry grew up to be 3 meters tall, and he kept his father's bones in the sack on his back. He walks around the mountains, whistling. His whistle went like this. ABCDEFG, ascending on ABCD and descending on EFGA. To hear the whistle go to . When you hear the whistle close by, like really close, it means he is very far away. If you hear his whistle very far away, it means he is standing right next to you. To make him go away, you have to bark or slash a whip.

  During rainy nights, El Silbon would walk into houses and will count the bones on his back. If someone from the house hears him counting or the bones clacking, nothing will happen. But if no one from the house hears him, then someone's bone from that family will be added to his collection.

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