{"id":154,"date":"2025-09-08T14:40:20","date_gmt":"2025-09-08T12:40:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/?page_id=154"},"modified":"2025-10-22T11:02:29","modified_gmt":"2025-10-22T09:02:29","slug":"om-coffinfolk","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/en\/om-coffinfolk\/","title":{"rendered":"About Coffinfolk"},"content":{"rendered":"

Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9 \u2013 a safe space for learning, reading and healing<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9 is a fictional meeting place here in the digital world, where you can step inside, sit down with a cup, and read about everything related to death \u2013 which is surprisingly much!
Death is a big part of our lives, our society, and our cultural history, yet it\u2019s something we rarely talk about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe you have thoughts or questions you don\u2019t dare to Google?
Here, curiosity is always welcome!
We hope this blog can offer you new insights, knowledge, and perhaps even a more confident and positive relationship with your own mortality \u2013 and with Death itself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We share facts, stories, and reflections \u2013 always with heart, never with judgment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are religiously and politically independent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The header illustration was created exclusively for Coffinfolk by the amazing Dany Darkly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

How the blog works \u2013 what you can expect from us<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Factual text<\/strong>\u2013 clear and simple. Straight to the point, no fluff.
Perfect if you\u2019ve got too many thoughts in your head and too little time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Short story<\/strong> \u2013 follow the fictional caf\u00e9 colleagues Quinley and Herrow as they explore the theme of the post in a stand-alone short story.
Quinley, Coffinfolk\u2019s caf\u00e9 host, is a young woman brimming with curiosity and zest for life. She loves to share her thoughts and discoveries together with Herrow, Death himself, as her travel companion and guide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9 you can read about<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

\u25aa\ufe0fHow we talk about death<\/strong> \u2013 with children, with each other, and with ourselves.
\u25aa\ufe0fLiving with grief<\/strong> \u2013 from personal stories to tools and rituals that may bring comfort.
\u25aa\ufe0fCulture and history<\/strong> \u2013 Victorian mourning clothes, death masks, cemeteries, myths and folklore.
\u25aa\ufe0fFunerals past, present, and future<\/strong> \u2013 green alternatives, new trends, and old traditions.
\u25aa\ufe0fDeath in pop culture<\/strong> \u2013 movies, books, art, games, and music where Death itself takes the stage.
\u25aa\ufe0fSymbols, omens, and signs<\/strong> \u2013 the colors of grief, what ravens, doves, church grimms, and other portents mean.
\u25aa\ufe0fPeople who work with death<\/strong> \u2013 interviews with those who encounter it every day.
\u25aa\ufe0fUnexpected perspectives<\/strong> \u2013 dark humor, strange court trials, death in sports, or as a tourist attraction.
\u25aa\ufe0fYour own relationship with Death<\/strong> \u2013 reflections, worksheets, and the chance to share your thoughts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026and much more to spark reflection, curiosity, and maybe even a laugh in the midst of seriousness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The people behind Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Harley \u2013 death positive blogger and founder of Coffinfolk<\/strong>
I started Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9 to hopefully make death a little less frightening for others, and to have a place where I can write about my great passion together with my fictional friends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve been fascinated by history and folklore ever since I was a child. Even though I was afraid of \u2013 well, pretty much everything \u2013 I couldn\u2019t resist reading, listening, and watching whatever I could find on the subject. And death always seemed to appear in those stories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Over the years, my mix of fear and fascination turned into curiosity and a hunger for knowledge. The more I learned about death \u2013 both through Swedish cultural history and through my own experiences of personal loss \u2013 the less frightening it became. Today, I love life, and I almost see Death as a friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s my own relationship with death that planted the seed for my fictional characters Quinley and Herrow.
Life and death, storms of emotion and moments of peace, searching and finding answers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Quinley & Herrow<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Quinley \u2013 the death curious caf\u00e9 host<\/strong>
My name is Quinley \u2013 so glad to meet you!
It\u2019s from my perspective the short stories are told.
I\u2019ve always been drawn to the things we rarely dare to speak of. Here at the caf\u00e9, both you and I get to do that \u2013 freely and without filters.
I look forward to sharing thoughts, questions, and above all, journeys and discoveries together with Herrow.
Herrow is my friend, colleague, and mentor. In that order \u2013 most of the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Herrow \u2013 the Grim Reaper and caf\u00e9 regular<\/strong>
I\u2019ve been called many names throughout history, but you may call me Herrow, Death, or whatever name you prefer. My task is to escort those who have left the world of the living to whatever comes next.
It has been a true pleasure to get to know Quinley and to guide her on our journeys through time and space. It\u2019s one thing to hear something told second-hand, but quite another to be present yourself \u2013 without disturbing or intruding, of course.
I hope you\u2019ll stay a while longer; it warms these old bones of mine that you\u2019ve read this far.
Wishing you all the best!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Short story: The Death Buddies First Meeting<\/strong>
Narrated by Quinley<\/em><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Cemeteries have always been such peaceful places for me. Some people find them creepy, even on days like this when the sun is high in a clear blue sky and birds are singing in the trees. I find it cozy to sit here in the stillness and just be. I\u2019m never really alone either, even if I can\u2019t see<\/em> all the other people resting here beneath the earth.

I pulled out a chess set from my bag. A little magnetic travel set, the kind you can play in the car. The small pieces clinked softly in my hands as I carefully set them up in their places.
\u201cOh, Grandma\u2026 how I miss playing with you. Even if I lost every single time\u2026\u201d With a short laugh I placed the chessboard beside me on the bench, the white pieces facing me \u2014 just like it always was with Grandma \u2014 leaned back and closed my eyes to the sun.
The crunch of gravel hinted that someone was walking my way along the path. I felt the bench shift as someone sat down beside me.
\u201cWould you like to play a match of chess?\u201d asked the stranger in a deep, slightly raspy voice.
\u201cGladly. Just don\u2019t expect much of a challenge,\u201d I replied with a giggle, reaching down to make my first move without needing to look.
His piece clicked against the board as he made his opening move.
I blinked a couple of times as I turned to make mine. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of black fabric. Is it the priest himself that has joined me? Before I could lift my gaze, he reached for another piece. His pale hand was so thin I could see every bone in his long fingers.
I blinked again. I couldn\u2019t believe my eyes\u2026 Slowly my eyes followed the hand up into the folds of black cloth, along his arm and shoulder. Where I expected a friendly face, there was only a hollow-eyed skull. The world tilted for a second. Was it really\u2026him<\/em>?! Here? Now?
A faint breeze carried a scent from him \u2014 old books, juniper, and lilac. I had expected something musty, but instead it was not only pleasant, it was comforting. It helped me find my footing again. 

My lips moved, but no words came. No gasp, no scream. Instead I felt my mouth curl into a smile.
\u201cY-you\u2026? You\u2019re\u2026 Death?\u201d
The vertebrae in his neck clicked softly as he nodded and extended a bony hand.
\u201cYou can call me Herrow.\u201d My gaze flickered between his empty eye sockets and his outstretched hand. My heart skipped a beat or two. Talking was one thing, touching was another\u2026\n \u201cRelax, you\u2019re not going to drop dead just from brushing against me, I promise.\u201d His chuckle was so disarming, as if he could feel my moment of hesitation. I took his hand. It was unexpectedly soft, almost warm.\n \u201cYou\u2019ve been reading about my work and talking to me for so long, I thought it was about time I answered.\u201d\nMy cheeks flushed. I\u2019d had the strange habit of speaking to Death for a long time, but I never thought he actually heard<\/em> me.
\"I have so<\/em> many questions\u2026\u201d I whispered with a giggle.

Herrow leaned back on the bench and folded his hands in his lap. His hood rustled lightly as he turned his unseeing gaze toward me and leaned in a little closer. I mirrored his movement and whispered:
\"Can everyone<\/em> see you?\u201d\nHerrow tilted his head, and I could swear he gave me a crooked smile. Impressive, for someone with only a skull to work with.
\u201cNo, just you right now. Most people do everything they can to ignore me, or pretend they imagined it if they catch a glimpse.\u201d
\u201cMhm\u2026\u201d I pursed my lips. \u201cThat I see you like this<\/em>\u201d \u2014 I gestured over his long black cloak \u2014 \u201cis it because this is how I imagine you?\u201d Herrow nodded.
\u201cI exist in all sorts of forms. It depends entirely on the person thinking of me. You see me like this, others see me as a gust of wind, a ball of light, an angel, or a terrible monster.\u201d\nI rested my elbow against the bench\u2019s backrest as I turned to face him fully. Herrow\u2019s face seemed to brighten.
\u201cSo, tell me \u2014 how\u2019s your application coming along?\u201d
\u201cApplication?\u201d I gave him a questioning look. \u201cOh, the caf\u00e9 job? Coffinfolk?\u201d\nHerrow nodded. I scratched the back of my neck and looked down at our forgotten chessgame.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know\u2026 I don\u2019t exactly have the qualifications for something like that\u2026\u201d\nHerrow tilted his head and chuckled.
\u201cQuinley\u2026 you just met the Grim Reaper in a graveyard, and your reaction wasn\u2019t fear, or anger, or denial\u2026 You smiled before you even knew why I was here.\u201d
\u201cD-Death\u2014 um, you<\/em> don\u2019t scare me,\u201d I replied with a shrug.
\u201cExactly. You meet what so many turn away from with curiosity and enthusiasm, even though you yourself have endured grief of all kinds.\u201d\nI picked up one of the white knights from the board. Grandma\u2019s favorite piece.\n\u201cYou\u2019re the one your friends turn to when they lose someone, or when they grieve. You don\u2019t let your own losses drag you down, you use your experiences to support and lift up others.\u201d His hand rested on my shoulder. \u201cYou\u2019re perfect for the job.\u201d\nI looked up at Herrow.
\u201cFor a Grim Reaper, you make a really good life coach.\u201d I giggled, blinking back a stray tear. Herrow\u2019s chuckle made the bench vibrate just as a bee landed on his finger. He lifted his hand and watched it crawl around on his bones.
\u201cHarley, who runs the caf\u00e9, is a good friend of mine. I\u2019m convinced you two would get along well. He\u2019s there now, shall we go visit?\u201d \nHerrow lowered his hand, letting the bee crawl onto a leaf swaying in the gentle breeze. There was something unexpectedly tender about how gentle he was with the tiny creature. I took a deep breath and nodded.

Herrow held out his hands to me.
\u201cHere, let\u2019s save your strength. I know a shortcut to the caf\u00e9.\u201d
Can a skull wink? I could have sworn I just saw<\/em> one give me a playful wink!
With a smile, I took his hands in mine.\n\u201cHold on tight, I don\u2019t fall to pieces easily.\u201d I gripped him with what felt like a literal death-grip.
A light gust brushed my face and made me squeeze my eyes shut. When I opened them again, I was standing in an alley in the old part of town. At the other end, I could hear the murmur of people and traffic. A sharp contrast to the calm of the cemetery.
\u201cThanks for\u2026\u201d I looked around. No sign of Herrow. \u201c\u2026the ride.\u201d

A door caught my attention. Ordinary, really \u2014 dark weathered wood against a pale wall almost completely covered in ivy. A sign read: Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9. Below it, a handwritten note: \u201cSorry for the mess, we just moved in!\u201d\nI leaned closer. Inside I could hear muffled voices and laughter. 

Curiosity overcame my nerves. I pressed down the handle and pushed the door open. A little bell jingled above the door, announcing my arrival.\nThe smell of freshly brewed coffee and something baked swept over me like a warm blanket, easing my shoulders down a notch. The place was bigger than expected, yet cozy, with a comfortably low ceiling and worn wooden floors creaking underfoot. The walls were painted and papered in soft, earthy colors and patterns. Nothing matched, but somehow it all fit.\nBookshelves lined the walls. Out in the room were worn sofas and armchairs. Not crowded, more like an inviting smorgasbord of places to sit \u2014 together, or more secluded. What I first thought were coffee tables I now realized were simple wooden coffins, stained dark brown. On one stood an almost empty glass of blackcurrant juice beside an open book. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed a pair of curious amber eyes in a furry face peeking from behind another coffin, but when I looked over, nothing was there.
Behind the counter stood a door, slightly ajar. A sign on it read: \u201cAdmin\u201d. Below, a paper note in block letters: DO NOT DISTURB \u2014 unless it\u2019s a matter of life or death. \ud83d\ude09
I had hoped the caf\u00e9 would be a nice place to visit as a guest \u2014 but this felt like coming home.

Another laugh drew my eyes to a pair of sofas near the counter.
There sat Herrow, his scythe leaned against the wall. Opposite him sat a blond guy who had to be Harley, the caf\u00e9\u2019s owner\u2026 and hopefully my new boss.
I swallowed hard and swept my hair over one shoulder. Herrow waved me over. As I approached, Harley stood to greet me. His voice was unexpectedly soft, despite his rough exterior with worn jeans and tattoos peeking out under the rolled-up shirt sleeves.
\u201cWelcome, Quinley. Herrow has spoken highly of you.\u201d He gave Herrow a smile, and the Reaper nodded before taking a sip from his coffee.
\u201cThank you. It feels almost like I\u2019ve been here before \u2014 it feels familiar, homey.\u201d I sat down beside Herrow. Harley asked what I\u2019d like to drink, and while he went to fetch me a cup, I leaned closer to Herrow.\n\u201cHow did you manage to be here already when we arrived together?\u201d I whispered. Herrow whispered back:
\u201cI\u2019m everywhere, all the time. Time and space play by slightly different rules when you\u2019re part of eternity itself\u2026\u201d I nodded slowly, as though that was the most natural answer in the world. Because, in a way, it was.
Harley returned, placing my cup on the unconventional table before sitting cross-legged in the opposite sofa.

Conversation flowed as if we\u2019d been friends for years. Harley shared his plans for Coffinfolk, we spoke of our views on death and curious anecdotes we\u2019d picked up from cultures around the world. Herrow chimed in now and then, watching us like a field researcher observing something fascinating.
\u201cWhen I listen to you two, one could think you were the same person,\u201d Herrow chuckled, crossing one leg over the other.
It was so incredibly freeing to talk about these things without being judged, silenced, or ignored. For the first time in a long while, I didn\u2019t feel the need to explain myself. Here, I didn\u2019t have to apologize for my questions \u2014 here, there was room for them. Perhaps that\u2019s exactly why I knew I wanted to stay.

A soft grumble was heard, and an adorable little creature hopped up onto the sofa beside Harley. Larger than a housecat, yet moving too gracefully to be a dog. Its big amber eyes looked at me with such warmth I could feel my heart melt like wax in the sun.\nHarley stroked its head, its floppy ears bouncing.
\u201cThis is our church grim, Grimmy. He moved in the same day we did. Herrow has a theory he once guarded the old forgotten gravefield a few miles away, but got bored and came here to watch over the atmosphere instead.\u201d Grimmy let out another contented sound as Harley scratched behind his ear. \u201cHe\u2019s very good at knowing when someone needs company but doesn\u2019t dare ask for it.\u201d
\u201cHe\u2019s also a rascal at stealing muffins if you look away,\u201d Herrow added with a laugh.\nOkay \u2014 if it wasn\u2019t already clear I wanted to stay, Grimmy was literally the final nail in the coffin. I wasn\u2019t leaving this place voluntarily!

As if he could read my thoughts, Harley looked at me and asked:
\u201cSo Quinley, what do you say? Would you like to be our caf\u00e9 host?\u201d
I nearly choked on my coffee as my eyes darted from Harley, to Herrow, and back again.
-\"YES!<\/em> I mean \u2014 I\u2019d love to.\u201d
Harley raised his cup in a toast, Herrow and I followed suit.
\u201cTo Coffinfolk!\u201d
–\u201cTo Coffinfolk!\u201d<\/em> <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9 – en trygg plats f\u00f6r att l\u00e4ra, l\u00e4sa och l\u00e4ka Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9 \u00e4r en fiktiv m\u00f6tesplats h\u00e4r i den digitala v\u00e4rlden d\u00e4r du kan komma in, sl\u00e5 dig ner med en kopp och l\u00e4sa om allt som ber\u00f6r d\u00f6den, vilket \u00e4r f\u00f6rv\u00e5nansv\u00e4rt mycket!D\u00f6den \u00e4r en stor del av v\u00e5rt liv, samh\u00e4lle och kulturhistoria,…<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-154","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nOm Coffinfolk - Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9 \u00e4r en blogg om d\u00f6den. H\u00e4r m\u00f6ts fakta och fiktion, kunskap och ber\u00e4ttelser. 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