A children's horror story

‘‘The Tusk’'

He lived in a small town, formerly a valley that was a little far from the city approximately 1h and 45min. I used to play with my friends every weekend, since we didn't have classes we played a lot. My grandparents visite us about twice a month and stayed approximately three days, they lived a long season in the village, long before I was born, so they knew much of the place.
My grandfather, Fransisco, told us many stories from the time they lived in the village, but it was not just any story, they were anecdotes that made us tremble with fear.
The village where he lived was a beautiful, quiet place, with many mountains around it, covered by trees so green, but so green that it was magical and cozy to see the sun peek out from behind those great natural buildings.
One night like any other in which we used to play and meet, my grandfather Francisco told us another story.

He said that he woke up very early just after the first whistle of the sugar mill at around 5am, watered the bushes and made coffee. He had a habit of talking and giving a cup of coffee to people who passed in front of the house, at those hours while he watered, he almost always saw a strange man pass by with his loaded mule and a straw hat, but that was not the only thing that caught that man's attention, but he had long fangs and not like a vampire's, they were thick and huge and very white. The man did not seem to care that they saw him with his big fangs, although the only person who always saw him at that time was my grandfather.
My grandfather said that twice he offered him coffee and the man just watched him and left, on the third day he offered him coffee again and the man finally accepted !!
My grandfather says that he felt chills and it was not because of the cold, but that the man really gave him chills.
The man drank the coffee very calmly but did not say anything, my grandfather only watered and looked at him from time to time appreciating his huge fangs, that dark-skinned man, somewhat pale, finally gave the cup to my grandfather, thanked him and said Pure souls need to be plucked, do you know how many are here?
There was a moment of tension as I tried to analyze the answer to that unusual question. In the end, he couldn't answer and the man left.
The francisco grandfather spent days trying to understand that question and wanting to ask the man what he meant, but he never saw him again.
With the month three children disappeared, the village was terrified and they searched, they searched but those children never appeared, it was as if the earth had swallowed them up.
One night 4 men including my grandfather got ready to stand guard and sat down to wait to see if they saw anything, but nothing but haze was observed and the singing of the toads, in addition to the silence that was also heard. That night my grandfather never imagined that he would see that man with big fangs, pass in front of him just after the second whistle of the central at 10pm. They all looked at him in surprise.
They called him and my grandfather started walking to catch up with him, but the man disappeared, disappeared into the mist. They all saw each other's faces, as my grandfather had seen him before and that night he could understand that he was not an ordinary being, but a being that was not of this world, was a sore soul, he prepared to tell men what happened previously.
From that moment they understood that those souls in pain had taken those children, who appeared in the second whistle of the sugar mill and left in the first whistle at 5am.
From there they nicknamed him the tusk and no child would ever be on the street again after the second bell rang at 10pm.

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