There’s a legend that goes on to say a man known as El Charro Negro, and as mysterious as he is, he would find pure souls of young girls to devour unless accepting his offer on riding his horse.

However, you don’t believe a story like that as you strolled down a rural road to the next town. It’s a shortcut to get there quickly but tonight it’s awfully quiet and peaceful, as the cold air runs chills down your spine.

“Hola señorita…” A deep, manly voice spoke. It’s him.