We all have our own image of Death.
For some, it’s unpleasant or even terrifying; for others, it’s comforting or even friendly.
From the Netflix series The Haunting of Bly Manor comes the quote above, which captures the idea behind this post: that giving something frightening — in the series, a ghost — a name and a story can make it less scary.
That’s exactly what this exercise is designed to help you do – to explore and perhaps even change your own relationship with Death. By giving Death a personality, a voice, a scent, and even a sense of humor, it becomes less abstract and more personal.
Your answers are for your eyes only, so think and write freely!
If you're just beginning your journey toward becoming more death-positive, try answering the questions again in a few weeks or months. You might discover that your image of Death has changed — become softer, kinder, or simply more your own.
Here you can download your own worksheet to print out.
1 What is Death’s name?
Mythological, ordinary, hard to pronounce?
2 What does Death look like?
Masculine, feminine, neither / both? Human, animal-like, spectral? Shape, clothing?
3 What colors do you associate with Death?
Black, twilight, autumn?
4 How old is Death?
Eternally young, as old as time, your own age?
5 Does Death move quickly or slowly?
Swift as a gust of wind, slow as the rising tide?
6 Can Death speak? What does Death’s voice sound like?
Words, song, murmurs, noises? Soft, raspy, high, deep?
7 Does Death have a scent? What does it smell like?
Fragrant, foul-smelling, scentless? Flowers, decay, spices, old books?
8 Do you associate Death with a particular symbol, object, or companion?
A scythe, lantern, hourglass, flower? A cat by their side, a raven on their shoulder?
9 What kind of music would suit Death as a soundtrack?
Melancholic, upbeat, classical? Jazz, folk music, heavy metal?
10 What does Death’s home look like?
A library, a cave, a house by the sea, a café?
11 Does Death have a sense of humor? What amuses Death?
Dry, warm, raw, playful, nonexistent?
12 When Death enters a room, does the temperature, sound, or light change?
Warmer, cooler? Silence, thunder and lightning? Blinding light, shrouded in shadow?
13 What feeling does Death evoke in you when it enters the room?
Comfort, unease, calm, fear, curiosity, warmth?
14 What kind of relationship do you and Death have?
Friends, colleagues, sworn archenemies? “It’s complicated”?
15 If you were to invite Death for a cup of coffee or tea, what would you talk about?
Life’s big questions, small everyday things, secrets?
16 What does it feel like to touch Death? What does it feel like when Death touches you?
Chilling, reassuring, rigid, comforting?
17 Would you confide in Death something you've never told anyone else?
Secrets, dreams, fears?
How did it feel to answer the questions? Fun, uncomfortable, exciting?
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
“The Merry Widow and the Grim Reaper”
Narrated by Quinley
I was leaning against the counter when Harley, the café’s owner, came out from his office with a stack of papers in his hand. He showed me the new worksheets while I took a bite of my cinnamon roll. I nodded and gave a thumbs-up while I chewed.
The bell above the door jingled as Herrow walked in. The Grim Reaper nodded in greeting and we waved back.
It’s always interesting to see how the other guests react—or if they react at all—to Death’s presence. A few of them raised their glasses and cups in a friendly salute. The elderly lady Rosie, whom I’d nicknamed “The Merry Widow,” looked up from her book. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her and stared wide-eyed at Herrow as he came over to me and Harley and wrapped us each in a hug. For a skeleton, Herrow gives surprisingly good bear hugs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rosie shiver and lift her coffee cup to her lips with a hand that wasn’t entirely steady.
I handed Herrow his cup of coffee—black as night, no sugar—before he went to his usual spot in the corner, leaned his scythe against the wall, and sank down into the sofa with a soft sigh.
Harley leaned closer and whispered, “She doesn’t bolt out the door the second Herrow comes in—that’s real progress.” I picked up one of the worksheets from the counter.
“Think she might want to fill one of these out as the next step?”
Harley shrugged. “We can always ask. She’ll know when she’s ready.” He took the worksheet and walked over to Rosie. The old lady seemed to appreciate the company human, living company. “One step at a time,” I thought to myself as I perched on a stool and rested my elbows on the worn wooden counter.
It had been quite the adventure helping Rosie find the right form of Death for her—one she could even stand to look at.
The way she described her image of Death was downright chilling; no wonder it frightened her senseless at the mere thought.
After some back and forth, Rosie tried picturing Death as a white horse, but that was still too frightening. Beautiful, but too imposing. A shining light was too abstract, and a door marked “Emergency Exit” felt stripped of drama but too stiff. As Rosie put it: “My late husband could be a real piece of wood sometimes. Hopeless to have a conversation with.”
So I suggested the classic Grim Reaper, the way I see Herrow. Rosie was hesitant, but when I insisted his scythe had been dull for a few hundred years, she agreed to give it a try.
I tried to stifle a laugh as I glanced over at the table where Rosie was filling out the worksheet with Harley’s encouragement. Rosie looked at him as if he’d lost his mind completely.
"Death's humor? I swear…” she muttered, shaking her head as she wrote—but I noticed that her wonderful smile had returned. Looks like “The Merry Widow” had made another small step forward!
I found a pen and started filling in my own worksheet.
1 What is Death’s name?
Herrow, nickname Hervan.
2 What does Death look like?
The classic Grim Reaper; a skeleton in a black cloak.
3 What colors do you associate with Death?
Twilight and autumn. The colors of the day and nature settling down to rest.
4 How old is Death?
As old as life itself, but spry for his age.
5 Does Death move quickly or slowly?
Slow and steady, no rush. But he can take quick “shortcuts” through both time and space.
6 Can Death speak? What does Death’s voice sound like?
He can both talk and sing. His voice is soft but a little raspy, as if he doesn’t use it very often.
7 Does Death have a scent? What does it smell like?
Lilac, juniper, and old books. Like a vase of fresh flowers inside an old library.
8 Do you associate Death with a particular symbol, object, or companion?
His scythe, which he always lugs around.
9 What kind of music would suit Death as a soundtrack?
Jazz and folk songs. He might also hum along to the latest hits.
10 What does Death’s home look like?
He would live above Coffinfolk Café in a small apartment filled with books from floor to ceiling. Beautiful landscape paintings from all over the world and across eras hang on the walls. The ceiling is painted like a vast, starry night sky.
11 Does Death have a sense of humor? What amuses Death?
Wry, self-deprecating, and fond of wordplay. Dark humor with a dad-joke twist.
12 When Death enters a room, does the temperature, sound, or light change?
Not really. His entrance is usually very undramatic.
13 What feeling does Death evoke in you when it enters the room?
Comfort and warmth. Like meeting an old friend—because that’s what he is.
14 What kind of relationship do you and Death have?
He is my friend, mentor, and colleague. In that order—most of the time.
15 If you were to invite Death for a cup of coffee or tea, what would you talk about?
Everything! Sometimes we can share silence, but most of the time we have endless things to talk about.
16 What does it feel like to touch Death? What does it feel like when Death touches you?
Touching him is… bony. Nothing more, nothing less. His touch is reassuring, grounding. A steady hand and a comforting embrace.
17 Would you confide in Death something you've never told anyone else?
Oh yes! Herrow is my liv—uh, existential diary, mentor, and life coach.
I took a sip of my now-cold coffee with a grimace. Herrow had been joined by an older gentleman who was enthusiastically showing him an antique pocket watch. An old keepsake from a deceased relative, perhaps? Herrow nodded and leaned in to admire the tiny details the man was pointing out.
I glanced over at Rosie and Harley again. “The Merry Widow” was following the conversation too. “See, Rosie,” I thought to myself, “one step at a time. In a few weeks, maybe your next characterization of Death will give you a kinder image—where you can see him as the courteous gentleman who hums while he reads th newspaper and takes his coffee like his clothes: black.”