Booksie Is My Town, And I Love It
“Welcome to the beautiful little town I like to call Booksie, I am going to be your tour guide for the day, my name is TheManWithManyWalls, but you can just call me Walls for short, any questions before we go in?”
The group looks like the usual bunch, some writers who’ve never dared publish, some are people who never had a place to publish, some are people looking for a good read, some found this village by accident and some don’t even know what this place is.
No one has any questions and I begin driving the little bus into town, they make noises at amazement as we pass each house. Some look like haunted houses, massive and tall and some are but shacks, ramshackle and all. I smile as I stop the bus, motioning for the small group to follow me.
I lead them to one house, written on the fence leading to this house are four letters, hhhh, she’s my girlfriend and I want to marry her one day. Of course I don’t tell the group this, I simply lead them upon the little path to the little cobblestone house.
They frown at my selection of home as I point at the window, “See all the writing, people buy a lot here, the house exterior is of no importance, it’s the inside that counts.” I step to the window and press on the screen, going from one selection to the other, “The owner of this house could walk in here and publish but when we walk in we choose what we want to see.”
Some are already gone, they just realized this site is about reading and writing, but I ignore them, all these people are registered and deserve my attention, “I choose a story, in this case SeiSei and then press on it, so if we go in we’ll live the story chapter by chapter. I recommend you come here on your own time, hhhh is a phenomenal writer, one of the best I know.”
Walking back to the bus we drive along, I explain other things and then we stumble upon another house, two shadowy figures are attacking a house. They have no defined features, their height varies from small to tall, they speak nothing but foul words and they cause damage to all.
Putting my finger up I grab a rifle from overhead, cocking a bullet in I stomp after them, shooting a warning shot in the air, “Get the fuck away from here unregistered scum! We don’t want you in this town!”
They scamper away like the cowards they are, of all the inhabitants of this town these are the worse. Sitting back on the bus I see my tourists giving me nervous glances, some are now afraid to even get on my bad side, with good reason, if they had done that to my house I could have tolerated it.
I will not, however, tolerate the assault on my fellow registered friends, after one minute of silence one of them finally asks, “What were those creatures?” I knew the question was coming, every day that I give a tour I have to explain, “Those were horrid creatures, the scum of the earth, non registered users.”
They give gasps of shock, “Not all of them are bad, I’ll explain how the comment system works soon but some give good comments. Some read silently, they are the people too afraid to register, or the people that lack the skill to write but simply want to pass the time.”
They can tell I’m not done explaining, “Then there are the foul ones, see as a registered member of this community when you give a bad comment at least you get the opportunity to retaliate properly, or to talk things over, sometimes become friends and sometimes not. I’ve had a few run ins with other registered friends, I admit, we’re not perfect either.”
“But these ones don’t stick around, they attack and then they vanish like a wisp in the air, they cause as much damage as they can in the little time they got. I should explain the comment system, basically once you’ve witnessed a story or poem a keyboard comes up.”
I pop up a little television with a display, the keyboard shows up and there is a little box with a like it? Box, “It’s appreciated to leave a comment, and you share your opinion on the story, whether you liked it or not, honesty is ok. Like I said do, there are limits, if you’re going to bash a story please have good reasons, not simply because it hurt your feelings or because you just don’t.”
I realize my voice is rising, some of the tourist glance up at my rifle so I take a moment to breathe, “Then if you like it press I liked it, and it will let the owner of the house know. They might answer back, this is the best way to advertise your work on here, to read other, booksie is all about team work. That’s it folks, now I’ll bring you to your new homes.”
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