the river of poppies Picture

~The dark boat moved. Gently it turned and swung out on to the rive of poppies, the oars dipping and rising... Into the mist they rowed, into a dimness that swallowed them, until the old Archon stood and clambered unsteadily to the prow, the disc in his hand.
'Behold,' he said softly. 'The land of the dead.'
With one swift movement he held the disc high. It glittered and flashed, and all the air scorched with its heat, and Mirany saw how the mist dried up as if beyond it, high and far beyond, a new sun had risen.
The sky was blue, the river was a blaze of poppies. And on its further bank she could see the Underworld.

The Scarab, Catherine Fisher, 2005
Watercolour pencils, edited extensively with GIMP
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