(100 word flash fiction)
She ran her finger down the book’s spine. It was coarse and unyielding like bark.
‘This was once a tree.’ She thought, bemused. ‘Its cells then rearranged into a different form to serve a different purpose.’
She looked around the room lined with books in shelves. She was in a jungle here. Except, it was not sap that was flowing but rivers of stories.
‘A house it could have been, sheltering people. Or a boat, gliding over the endless rivers. Living, serving, even after death.’
She pulled the form towards her and signed it, donating all her organs after death.
It’s that day of the week again when I check out the Friday Fictioneers page hosted by the lovely Rochelle and get a high by writing a short story based on the photo prompt which this week is –