Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26369660-20150504175700

So, apparently my story was deleted for not meeting the quality standards? Would anyone nicely and politely like to explain to me why? I've had quite a few people on other sites read it and like it, so I'm kind of confused here.

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House 308 is an infamous legend in my neighborhood. Actually, 308 isn't even the address; 2447 is. It's called House 308 because everyone who's ever seen it at 3:08 AM observes a strange phenomenon.

The house itself is pretty run-down. There are a few windows with missing glass panes, the paint is chipping off the outside, and there's a rusty old gate on the entry path with no fence to accompany it. A few kids have said if you walk around the gate instead of through it you'll be cursed, but there's no proof of that. What there is proof of is this:

Should you be viewing the house from the front at exactly, 3:08 AM, the rusty gate latch will lift and it will open before swinging closed with a bang. After about 20 seconds a pale, almost blue palm with seven bony fingers will press against the upstairs window; the only upstairs window. Once the clock hits 3:09, the hand will disappear.

Most of the people in my neighborhood are elderly or too busy in their lives to investigate the house. No one's ever gone in, and no one's ever seen anyone come out. The landlord says the building is occupied by a Sebastian Peterson, a convicted pedophile who served 9 years in prison. No one's seen any sign of him since shortly after his release, but apparently his rent is payed in full on the deadline every month.

I guess my curiosity got the better of me. I've always been the kind of person who stuck their nose where it doesn't belong. I decided I'd take a flashlight and a camera to investigate the house.

The door was locked. I hate to vandalize, but I figured that was my only option. I wasn't bothered by the fact I could get charged for breaking and entering. I bashed a window and made my way inside. The house was completely dark and filled with dust. I coughed and hacked to empty my lungs of the cloud I had stirred up. I flicked my flashlight on and gazed around the main room. It looked like a mixture of a kitchen, dining room, and living room. An old fashioned TV sat in front of a couch to my left, with some flies buzzing around a sink full of dishes to my right. I flashed my light to the staircase leading upwards. The stairs looked unstable, and I tread with care. Each plank creaked beneath my foot, one even cracked threateningly. I snapped a picture every few seconds, documenting as much of my journey as I could.

As I made my way up, I began to hear faint whimpers. I reached the top of the staircase to find, to my horror, seven rusted dog cages scattered across the floor. Inside each cage was a child. Their ages ranged from what I guessed was 7-12. There were two boys and five girls. Their condition made me sick. The kids looked like they hadn't been fed in ages. Pointy bones stuck through their skin and tattered clothes hung from their shoulders. Blood, vomit, and fecal matter was splattered all over the floor and walls. I tried to call out to them but they behaved as if I wasn't even there. One of the girls wasn't even moving. She lay in a huge puddle of dried and fresh blood. I think she was dead.

My finger never forgot to keep snapping pictures as I stared. It was then that I realized that sick bastard must still live here. Terror filled my body and I spun around to dash down the stairs, but I was stopped. A spindly, deformed being around six feet tall stood in front of me. It was naked and it's skin was wrinkled, hanging from it's frame. One hand looked like it had been mauled by one of the children in self defense, but the other made me stop. It was pale, almost blue, and had seven bony fingers.

I clicked one photo before the thing backhanded me, sending me crashing through the rotting floor. It leaped down on top of me, tearing into my body and throwing bits and pieces of me aside. Everything became fuzzy as the smell of blood filled my nostrils, and I slowly lost consciousness.

This story was written based on the images found on a digital camera sitting in the grass outside house 2447 in my neighborhood. When the police entered the building, there was a hole in the upper floor and no sign of any cages, children, or even filth caused by murder or containment. It was like nothing ever happened, the only proof being the hole and the photos. We don't know who the person was who took the photos, nor how they got there with this lack of evidence. All we know is that after the day the camera was found, the rent stopped being payed on the house. Also there were no longer any signs of the event that once happened at 3:08 AM, and there are no signs of Sebastian Peterson anywhere in my state.

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If it's a question of the storyline not making sense, here's the explination:

After being released from prison, Sebastian lived in House 308 for a few short months before dying from unknown causes at 3:08 AM. His spirit, as malicious as it was, continued to live in the house. It payed the rent each month to keep people from entering the house. It kidnapped 7 children, growing a new finger on his hand for each one, and locked them in the attic. While outside he would not be visible, hence the gate seemingly swinging open and shut by itself. After he was discovered by the unknown kid, he cleaned up everything from the house doing his best to erase the evidence before decending to Hell. 