Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26325197-20150418210532

May somebody tell me what I did wrong in my story that got it deleted? I don't understand the reasoning of the deletion. If you can tell me what to fix, thanks. If you can't, thanks anyways.

My name is Nikitovich. Goryunov Nikitovich. I had just bought the house. The old Rodionovich house on Ottokh. I had heard it all about this place of residence. How it was notorious for the people who lived there to vanish mysteriously. Me, I didn't give a shit. It was in my price range and I struck a good deal with Madame Ménard, who seemed extremely happy to leave. It was normal for a while. I was fixing up the parlor, which was in really bad condition. There were spider webs on the chandeliers, broken mirrors, and some of the chairs were obliterated. One chair, in particular, was very queer. The chair had some sort of scratch marks on it. "Well, that's odd." My wife, Michele, said when I showed it to her. That was the end of that. I had adjusted well to this house. Michele, however, was having a lot of problems with it. Everytime the furnace would kick on, she would look around, scared. But, one day, the oddest thing happened. I set my coffee cup on the kitchen's island. I went to grab my expresso machine and I turned. The cup had moved to the other side of the room! "What the hell?" I said to myself. But, I just shrugged my shoulders and walked into the parlor, which had really gotten better in the two months I had been a resident. But, there was a loose board in the wall. I looked at it and it bugged me. But, I grabbed my electric driver and put a few screws in. But, that wasn't the end. The next morning, I got up as normal. But, Michele was nowhere to be found. "Michele?" I called to her. No answer. I grabbed my derringer and looked around. I get to the staircase. A shadow darted past. I aimed the derringer and nothing was there. "Michele?!" I called again. By then it was getting a little weird. I creeped down the staircase and another shadow darted past me. I feel a little disturbance and the staircase became cold as ice. Wait a second, I thought to myself, I am Goryunov Nikitovich! I fear nothing! However, I still went quietly and quickly down the stairs. Suddenly, I spotted her. Looking into the parlor. She looked like she was in a trance. "Michele! Are you alright?" I ask. She blinked and looked at me. "Yes. I just-" she stopped. Then, she looked over to the parlor. "Hey, didn't you screw that board into place last night?" She asked. Suddenly, I spotted it. The board I put into place last night was now beside the hole. "Yes." I said. "Did you move it?" She shook her head. I grabbed a flashlight off the shelf on the wall and turned it on. I looked in with the flashlight. Something was wrong. The light was bending around the room. The hole was pitch black. "What the hell is this?" I asked myself. "Michele, come here and help me." She held the board as I screwed it back into place. I thought we were done. But, it was far from over. Two hours later, I heard a light scratching noise. I grabbed the little derringer again. I walked towards the sound. I finally stop at the parlor. There was a scratching coming from the wall. Right where the board was put in. I aim the derringer. "Is somebody in there?" I asked. Suddenly, there was a shrill shriek! It was higher-pitched than a normal human shriek, and it seemed much more blood curdling. Suddenly, I saw it. Claws in the board. "OH MY GOD!" I yelled and I ran out of the room. I lock it and grab my pump action shotgun out of its display case. Load it. Suddenly, a crack. Silence. I walked towards the door, aiming the shotgun. There is dead silence. Too silent. Then, the claws pierced through the door. I fired the shotgun at the claws. Whatever it was shrieked again and pulled the claws back. I carefully walked to the door. I cautiously aim the derringer, of much larger caliber than the shotgun, and look through the hole. It was an awful looking creature. It stood humanoid, but had a disturbingly misshappen head, with bulging eyes and almost no skin on its bone. Its pupils are blood red and it reminded me of the Dover Demon I had heard of during my time in a small town called Dover. But, it had a black, slippery looking skin (where the skin was) and its flesh was the color of sludge. Suddenly it spotted me and charged at the door. I stepped back in just enough time as the thing stuck its claws through the door where my brain was! I pump the shotgun and fire at it again. It screams and pulls out its claws. Suddenly, Michele walked in. She spotted the claw holes and heard the screaming. "What the fuck is that thing?" She asked in a whisper. "I don't know, but I sure as hell don't want to find out!" I yelled. "Let's get out now!" We ran to the door and started to hear the dreaded cracking noise. "RUN!" I yell again and we sped through the door at Mach 10. I only had enough time to lock the door as it sped towards us. We ran towards our sea blue Cadillac and quickly left the driveway. We went so fast that when we got to the hotel, the cars' tires were all burnt to hell. We never went back to that house. We never retrieved our things from it. But, we later heard about a construction crew, who we sold the house to for demolishing, was murdered by something before the demolition started. The murders of the nineteen member crew were disturbing. They had three claw marks in their head, exactly like the door to the parlor. There was one who lived to the hospital. When the police got there, he mustered the strength to say one sentence; "It's in the parlor." He then died, right in front of the police officers who were questioning him. 