We humans have been personifying Death for thousands of years.
I do the same with my own version of Death in the form of the Grim Reaper Herrow, a character you can meet in Coffinfolk’s standalone short stories.
Why we do this is a topic for a future blog post—today I’m keeping things a bit lighter.
With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, here are a few reading tips where Death is not only personified, but quite literally romanticized. 🖤
Click on a title that piques your interest to read more about the book on Goodreads.com.
Classic Romance
Death Takes a Holiday – Walter Ferris
Young Adult Romantasy
Keturah and Lord Death – Martine Leavitt
Belladonna (Belladonna #1) – Adalyn Grace
LGBT / Queer Young Adult Romantasy
Romantasy
Undead Or Alive (Bad Things #3) – Cynthia Eden
Death’s Destiny – Honey Andrews
Date with Death (Welcome to Hell #2.5) – Eve Langlais
The Grim Reaper’s Lawyer (Life After Death #1) – Mea Monique
First Grave on the Right (Charley Davidson #1) – Darynda Jones
The Eighth House: Hades & Persephone (Flames of Olympos #1) – Eris Adderly
Sworn to the Shadow God (Aspect and Anchor #2) – Ruby Dixon
LGBT / Queer Romantasy
Under the Whispering Door – T.J. Klune
Patience (Damned Connections #1) – Lark Taylor
Death Eternal (Necromancer Rising #1) – Richard Amos
The Grim Adventures of Death & Chan (The Grim Adventures of Death & Chan #1) – Vawn Cassidy
Dark Romantasy
Land of the Beautiful Dead – R. Lee Smith
Death (The Four Horsemen #4) – Laura Thalassa
River of Shadows (Underworld Gods #1) – Karina Halle
LGBT / Queer Dark Romantasy
Soul Eater (Monstrous #1) – Lily Mayne
Personally, I see Death as a friend and nothing more, but it’s still fascinating to read about fictional characters who take that relationship one—or a few—steps further.
After researching this blog post, my “to be read” list has definitely grown longer!
Soul Eater by Lily Mayne is the only book from the list above that I’ve read so far, and I absolutely love the Monstrous series. Highly recommended if that’s your kind of read.
Have you read any of these titles? Do you have more recommendations?
A short story with Quinley & Herrow
Who are Quinley and Herrow?
In Coffinfolk Café’s stand alone short stories, you’ll meet two most unlikely friends:
Quinley – Coffinfolk’s café host. A young woman who loves life just as much as she loves exploring the cultural heritage of death and sharing advice, information, and insights that can help people – whether they are facing their own encounter with Death or living with grief.
Herrow – Death himself. He may look frightening in his black cloak, but beneath the bones is a kind soul who enjoys a cup of coffee and sharing experiences gathered from every corner of time.
You can find a longer introduction + a short story about their first meeting HERE
“Sienna – A Death-Bound Romance”
Narrated by Quinley
Valentine’s Day didn’t make much of a fuss inside Coffinfolk.
I made a few valiant attempts at decorating the coffee with heart-shaped latte art, with… mixed results, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
Harley accepted his limitations as a barista and instead printed out compliments and encouraging messages, cutting them out and folding them into napkins so guests would get a small surprise with their coffee break.
A few guests brought us a flower or a small box of chocolates, a token of appreciation for our unconventional café. I could count those occasions on one hand, but it wasn’t unheard of that a guest would ask either me or Harley out on a date, in honor of the day.
I had just popped a chocolate praline into my mouth when the front door flew open and I nearly choked. A man quite literally danced across the threshold, dressed in a suit and wearing a grin that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous. In his arms he carried a large bouquet of red roses.
My heart did a somersault when our eyes met.
“Good afternoon, miss.” He leaned across the counter. “Is she here? Sienna?”
I gave him a puzzled look. The café was empty at the moment. The only guest was Herrow, sitting and flipping through a newspaper.
“She’s sitting in her usual spot,” Harley chimed in, nodding toward one of the sofas.
Now it was my boss’s turn to receive the same confused look. Had I gone blind, or were people invisible today?
The man spun on his heel and threw his arms wide.
“Sienna, my beautiful one! How wonderful to see you again!” Herrow folded the newspaper and accepted the bouquet.
I must have looked like a living question mark, judging by Harley’s snicker.
“Christian is an artist. He thought he’d lost all inspiration for painting until he met Herrow a few weeks ago,” Harley explained. That didn’t make me much wiser.
“So… why is Christian calling him Sienna and looking like he’s about to pledge eternal love and devotion?”
“You know how we all have our own image of Death? You and I, like many others, see the classic Grim Reaper. Christian sees him—or rather, her—as Sienna.”
I nodded and glanced toward the sofa, where the artist had pulled out a sketchbook. His hand flew across the paper in sweeping motions.
“Sienna, my muse. My key to inspiration…”
And the key to my curiosity. I wandered over to catch a glimpse of what he was drawing.
“May I look?”
“Of course! It’s not finished yet, but—well, you can see the beauty I’m trying to capture.” He gestured toward Herrow, who sat reclined on the sofa with his hands folded neatly in his lap.
On the paper, I didn’t see Herrow’s pale skull with its empty eye sockets. A woman looked back at me instead. An incredibly beautiful woman.
I focused on the sketch as each new line made her appear more and more alive. It was almost a physical effort to push aside my own image of Death in his black cloak. When I lifted my gaze again, she was sitting there on the sofa—Sienna. I gasped and clapped a hand over my mouth to avoid startling Christian. Sienna responded by quirking an eyebrow and giving me a crooked smile.
“It’s still me, Quinley. Just in a different form.” Her voice carried Herrow’s gentle rasp, softened by a feminine tone.
“To create is to live. I thought I’d lost that until I met Sienna. My art has a new meaning now. If my image of Death changes, I want to remember her as I see her today,” Christian murmured, lost in his work.
It made me think of the first time I met Herrow. How he encouraged me to find my way here, to Coffinfolk. When I looked back at Sienna, her face began to change. The long hair faded away, the large eyes lost their shine and sank inward, her soft smile turned into a skull’s grin. Herrow was back in his familiar form. Different—but no less inspiring, in my eyes.
Later that day, I was scrolling on my phone. Christian had shared his artwork on social media, and all of it was stunning. The portrait of Sienna had already gathered plenty of comments from people asking who the mysterious beauty was. Christian replied cryptically:
“My muse, who holds a piece of my heart until death reunites us.”
A familiar trio drifted in through the front door. I didn’t know their names yet, so I’d given them nicknames based on their personal style: Raven, always dressed head to toe in black. Viola, whose wardrobe also leaned heavily toward black but was broken up with shades of purple. Scarlet, the odd bird of the trio, mixing modern fashion with vintage and steampunk, always themed in red.
Raven and Scarlet stood reading the menu while Viola hovered beside them. She seemed restless, unable to stand still, her gaze flickering between the menu and Herrow.
“Your time is limited. His isn’t,” Raven said, raising a thin eyebrow. Viola looked at her friend and bit her lip, took a deep breath, and shook herself.
“Wish me luck!”
“I think we should wish Herrow luck,” Scarlet muttered, watching as Viola slowly approached him. Raven snickered and handed me their order.
“She’s been working up the courage for this for over a week now.” She brushed a black strand of hair behind her ear. “I hope Death breaks her heart gently.”
“Oh! Is it a confession of love? No wonder she’s nervous. Don’t worry—Herrow is gentle with people and their feelings,” I assured them, sliding their tray of cups and muffins across the counter.
Raven and Scarlet settled at a table further inside while Viola sat down with Herrow.
After a few minutes, Scarlet waved me over.
“I don’t hear any crying yet—does it seem to be going well for our love-struck friend?”
Raven patted her arm.
“You heard it yourself. Death isn’t as sharp as his scythe.”
“That scythe lost its edge many, many years ago,” I added with a shrug.
“…and she’ll lose interest as soon as Tommy is back from tour.” Raven smiled at me. “My friend is very passionate. When one love becomes homeless, she finds something new to bury herself in. This time it was Herrow. Last time it was fly fishing. Two weeks we all try to forget…”
Scarlet laughed and visibly relaxed again.
Light footsteps approached behind me as Viola joined us at the table.
“Well?” Scarlet asked, sliding a plate with a blueberry muffin toward her.
Viola sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair, her smile matching the sparkle in her eyes. I half expected her pupils to be heart-shaped.
“He said he’ll always be there for me.” She took a bite of her muffin. “He hopes I find someone who looks at me with the same tenderness I looked at him.” Scarlet raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea. “…which I think I have! Since Herrow doesn’t have any eyes at all, maybe that’s exactly how he looked at me!”
Raven sighed and rested her forehead in her hand. Now it was Scarlet’s turn to pat Raven’s arm.
“One week left of the death-bound romance.”
Viola’s phone chimed. She picked it up and read the message.
“Tommy! Change of plans—the guitarist broke his arm. Tommy’s coming home tomorrow!”
Raven lifted her head.
“Are you going to tell Herrow…?”
“Who?” Viola shot her a puzzled look before typing a reply. “Oh—right. Um…” She bit her lip again.
“I can tell him,” I offered. Viola looked up at me with that sparkling smile.
“Thank you. Be gentle with him.”
“You really need to start reading something other than those romantic fantasy novels…” Raven sighed, giving me a sympathetic look. Scarlet tried to stifle her laughter behind a chocolate muffin.
“I promise to deliver the message with the utmost care.” I left the group to inform Death that he could continue his existence as an eternal bachelor, undisturbed.
At least until the next confession of love.
As expected, Herrow took it all with equanimity. I think he appreciates compliments and kind words like anyone else, but as he said himself:
“I neither can nor wish to replace the love one human can give another. You will always have my unconditional care. I want to see you happy—but my task is to guide you at life’s end, and love has no end.”