In 1970, finnish author Tove janesson ended the moomin series with “moominvalley in November”, with the entire moomin family moving out and abandoning the small moominhouse, but moominvalley in November wasn’t exactly the true ending to the moomins, in fact, another tale was to take it’s place. The story was called “life, death, moomins”, and was written, and illustrated by Tove only. Most people said that she locked herself in her studio to “work on the project”, and no one saw her for 10 hours, and after that, she emerged from the studio, looking hellishly disheveled and distraught.
The book was never published and no adaptations ever existed for it, in fact, not a single person ever read it for a long time, that was until an anonymous person on 4chan had stolen the book during a press conference between Tove and a group of businessmen looking for a licensing deal, in order to put rest on the myth of the secret moomins book. The user posted a full summary, along with scanned illustrations from the book, here is the summary:
Life, death, moomins
By tove janesson
The cover is that of moomintroll, the protagonist of most books, looking out of a cliff at a valley, the sky is a dark grey and lightning bolts were about, a large, eldritch worm was soaring into the sky, passing the clouds.
today was not perfect, in fact, everything wasn’t perfect, for the moomin family today was expected to be happy and fun, but no, it wasn’t, and would be remembered for a long, long, time.
The picture was of the moominhouse on a cloudy day, the color scheme was darker and the house seemed old and brittle.
moominpappa sat in his bed, not ready for the day, ready to pass on, his family sat around him, saying their final words to him. He whispered, “moomin, I cannot live on,” “why papa?”, he sniffled. “people move on, my son, we go to another plain of existence, we all must die sometime.” Moomintroll sniffled, as his dad passed on, “ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for me to enter a life of new” he said, and moominpappa slowly went cold.
The picture was of moominpappa in a bed, he looked wrinkled and skinny, not like the usual moomin style, he was surrounded by his family members, moomin had a tear rolling down his cheek.
after moominpappa was buried, moominmamma told moomin about the moments he remembered, and the time he loved him, and then moominmamma decided to tell a story. “have you heard of old death?” she said, moomin didn’t know what she was talking about.
The picture was a silhouette of the moomins, burying moominpappa’s body, little my had a shovel in her hand and snufkin carried the body of papa, moominmamma and moomintroll were at distance watching the burial.
“old death carries the vessels of the human to limbo, a place where people are chosen if they are going to heaven or hell, he rides his boat up and around the lym rivers to bring and bring back the souls of the deceased” moominmamma said. “is papa going to heaven? Or hell?” he piped, “heaven” she spoke. Then moomintroll said “will papa come back?”, but mama stayed quiet.
The picture was of a strange creature, presumably “old death” riding a boat across water.
Moomin sat in his room for a long time, unspeaking, mournful and sad, he didn’t want papa to be dead, he needed something to be done, he wanted retribution, return, resurrection, something, he sat and sat, for a long time, then something happened.
The picture was of moomintroll sitting on his bed with a mournful look on his face.
A loud noise sounded through the valley, the vessel of destruction, leviathan, grew to the size of a skyscraper, moomintroll ran out and saw leviathan, he was astounded by it’s size, everything about it astounded him. Suddenly, a tentacle flew out and pierced him, he was dragged into the maw of leviathan, and everything went dark.
The picture was that of the massive eldritch worm monster in the distance, large tendrils with small figures flayed about as the creature grew, as moomin stared at a distance.
“what happened to me? Where am i? why can’t a see?” moomintroll cried out, a voice responded, “you are in the influx, you have died, your cells have rotted”. “where’s snufkin? Where is everyone? I wanna go home” moomin repeated, but the voice was silent.
Moomintroll was floating in a white void, his eyes were a glossy white and he was alone.
“don’t you get it you blind fool? You’re dead, you’re family is dead, you can’t see because the inescapable void of aftertimes have encased you, you are not only dead, but you’re in limbo, you have passed on, just like your frail father you overweight troll, just like your mother, just Like everyone.”
There was no picture, just words scribbled on with pen, such as “blind fool” and “cheap pig trogilidyte”.
Leviathan destroyed our reality, everything we knew and loved was dead, gone, destroyed, exterminated, and so, moomin was left to himself, as he stared, he began to devolve, he began to become what he once was one summer afternoon, he was an enigma, a nothing, a nobody, a spec, a void.
The picture was of moomin floating through a black hole, his skin melting into a puddle and revealing pungent organs and flesh.
And as moomintroll floated through the cosmos, he realized he was a toy, a pawn, being used by a mournful author to express her happiness and joy, but he was no pawn no longer, he was alive, or wasn’t, and as his body froze in the cosmic airs, he screamed for a short time, and went silent.
Moomintroll was floating in space, icicles were forming around him as he floated into the cosmic void of space.
Page 11 was just the words “the end” written over a picture of moomintroll, his face smashed and his jaw hung downwards, his eyeballs dangled out of the sockets and his head had peeled revealing bone and grey matter.
Hours after the post was made, the user said that he had to return it after a cease-and-desist notice from Tove, and returned the book by mail, and one hour after, the post was deleted by the anon. people began theorizing to what the book’s meaning is, one person saying it may have been a mixture of feeling Tove felt after her father died, another theory stating Tove may have had a mental breakdown and wrote the book in a fluster of anger, pointing to the rushed artwork at the very end, and the last theory stating that she may have been experimenting with a lovecraftian style.
The only photo ever found from the book was “old death”, and the meaning behind the book is still being theorized to this day onwards.