Graphic by Harlow Berny

Retold by Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, a giant was walking through a mountain pass, when suddenly a female figure cloaked in white jumped out before him and shouted, “Stop! Walk no further!”

“What?” bellowed the giant, “Does this fragile pebble try to block my path? What does it think it is?”

“I am Death,” answered the figure, “and your time has come, as it comes for all.” But, upon hearing this, the giant grew infuriated and raised his fist to the sky. Before Death could retaliate, the giant had crushed her with a devastating blow. Seeing Death on the ground, the giant laughed and continued on.

What will happen, thought Death, if I just stay here on the ground? No one will die, and the world will become so full that people will not have enough room to merely stand side by side. They will not be able to grow food to eat, not be able to sleep, and not be able to avoid disease. Despite this, they will not die, and thus will be condemned to eternal pain and suffering in a new hell.

As Death lay on the ground, lost in thought, a young and healthy man came along the road, singing as he gazed at the forest below. As he did so, he glanced upon Death, and rushed to her aid, leaning her against a nearby rock and giving her water from his canteen.

Once she had finished drinking, she softly spoke. “Would you happen to know who I am, kind man?”

“No,” he answered, glad that she had recovered.

“I am Death, the one who visits all at the moment of their passing. I can spare no one, and can make no exception–but I am grateful for the kindness you have shown me today. I promise that I shall send you messages before I come to take you from this world.”

“Well,” said the man, “there is something gained from knowing when you will come. If anything, I shall certainly have many years before you visit me again!” He and Death went their separate ways, both grateful for the encounter. The man, however, did not remain healthy for long, as he soon fell bedridden with a violent fever which took away his sleep. Despite the grim prospect that this sickness presented, the man stayed confident that he would live through it, as Death had yet to send her messengers. As he had predicted, he recovered quickly and went on in life merrily. That is, until a week after he had become healthy again, someone tapped his shoulder and whispered his name.

“….H–l-w -e-ny….” The man spun around and was shocked to find Death herself standing behind him. “The time has come for you to leave this world and move to the other.”

“What?” shouted the man. “Did you not tell me that you would send your messengers to warn me of your coming? I have seen none, yet here you stand.”

“Silly man,” Death said, “has fever not come to remind you of me? Has not the cracking of your bones in the morning, the aching tooth in your mouth, and the darkness of the night reminded you of your skeleton decomposing? Furthermore, has not my brother Sleep reminded you of me every night, as you lay in bed as you will lie in your coffin?”

Hearing all of this, the man saw how Death had made a fool of him. But, it was not anger that he felt, nor was it sadness. He smiled and walked side by side with Death, content that his life had not ended with blood, but with joke.

Editor: Bella Bier

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s