The Book That Reappeared As If By Magic

My Very Own Sister

By Astrid Lindgren

Shall I tell you a secret? I've got a twin sister. Don't tell anyone. Not even my mother and father know about her. She lives deep under the ground near the big rose bush at the bottom of the garden.

Would you like to know my sisters name? It's not Jane or Betty or anything ordinary like that. It's Lalla-lee. If you say it over and over again, you'll hear how beautiful it is: Lalla-lee, Lalla-lee, Lalla-lee.

My name's just Barbara, but Lalla-lee never uses it. She calls me “my very own sister”.

Lalla-lee loves me very much. My father loves Mummy best, and Mummy loves my baby brother who was born last spring best. But Lalla-lee only loves me.

Yesterday was a warm day. First thing in the morning I went and sat behind the rose bush as I usually do. It's in a corner of the garden where no one ever comes. Lala-lee and I have a special language that no one else understands.

The rose bush is called something quite different in our language. It's called Salikon. As I sat down by Salikon I heard Lalla-lee calling me: “Kim hure!”

That's what ‘come here’ is in our language. So, I crawled down through the hole - there's a hole in the ground just under Salikon. I crept inside, then I climbed down the long, long ladder, and went through the dark passage right up to the door that leads to the Golden Hall where, Lalla-lee is queen.

I knocked at the door.

“Is that My Very Own Sister?”, I heard Lalla-lee call from inside the door.

“Yes”, I said.

“Nicko, open the door for My Very Own Sister,” said Lalla-lee.

The door opened, and Nicko, the little dwarf that cooks Lalla-lee’s food, bowed and grinned at me just like he always does.

Lalla-lee and I hugged each other. The Ruff and Duff rushed up and started to bark and leap round us. Ruff and Duff are our little black poodles. Ruff is mine, and Duff is Lalla-lee’s. Ruff is always very pleased to see me – he licks my hands and wags his tail. Before I had Ruff I used to worry my mother and father for a dog of my very own. But they said dogs were a nuisance and an expense, and that it wasn’t a good thing to have one near a baby. That’s why I was so pleased with Ruff.

We played with our dogs for a long time, Lalla-lee and I. Then we went and fed our rabbits. We’ve got lots of little white rabbits.

You can’t imagine how lovely The Golden Hall is, with shining gold walls. In the middle there is a fountain with green water. Lalla-lee and I bathed there.

Then we decided to go for a ride. Lalla-lee’s horse has a golden mane and golden hooves. My horse is black with a silver mane and silver hooves. Our horses are called Goldenfoot and Silverfoot.

We rode through the Terrible Big Forest where the Wicked People live. They have green eyes and long arms.

They came rushing after us. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t shout anything – they just ran silently behind our horses and stretched their long arms out after us. The Wicked People wanted to capture us and put us in the Terrible Big Cave. But Goldenfoot and Silverfoot ran so fast that sparks flew from their hooves – golden sparks and silver sparks. The Wicked

People were left far behind.

We came out of the forest and into the meadow where the Good People live. The Wicked People can’t come there. They stood at the edge of the Terrible Big Forest and peered out from the trees with their horrible green eyes.

We had a wonderful time with the Good People. They wear soft, flowing clothes and have pink cheeks. They brought us cakes and sweets on little green trays. There are no sweets as nice as the ones the Good People give us.

In the middle of the meadow the Good People have a big stove, which they use to boil sweets and bake cakes.

When we had eaten as much as we wanted we rode on to the Most Beautiful Valley in the World. Nobody’s allowed to go there except Lalla-lee and me.

In the Most Beautiful Valley in the World the flowers sing and the trees play musical instruments. Through the valley runs a small, clear brook. It can’t sing or play but it hums a tune. I’ve never heard a more beautiful tune. Lalla-lee and I stood on the bridge over the brook, and she held my arm and said, “My Very Own Sister, there’s one thing you must know.”

I felt a stab in my heart. “No,” I said, “I don’t want to know anything.”

“You must,” said Lalla-lee. The flowers stopped singing, the trees stopped playing, and I couldn’t hear the brook’s tune any more.

“My Very Own Sister,” Said Lalla-lee, “when Salikon’s  roses fade I shall be gone.”

I leapt on my horse and rode off, the tears running down my cheeks. I rode as fast as I could and Lall-lee followed.

Lalla-lee and I rode so fast that Goldenfoot and Silverfoot were wet with sweat when we got back to the Golden Hall.

Nicko had made some delicious pancakes for us. We sat on the floor in front of the fire and ate them. Ruff and Duff frisked around us, and our rabbits came hopping up to join in.

But I had to go home at last. Lalla-lee came to the door with me, and we said goodbye sadly and hugged each other.

“Come again soon, My Very Own Sister,” said Lalla-lee.

I went out of the door and along the passage. As I climbed up the ladder I heard Lalla-lee’s voice calling after me once more, “Come again soon, My Very Own Sister.”

When I reached home my mother was sitting in my little brother’s room, getting him ready for bed. She looked very white. When she saw me in the doorway she put the baby quickly into his cot and rushed towards me. She put her arms around me and cried.

“Where have you been darling?” she asked at last. “Where have you been all day?”

“Behind the rose bush”, I said.

“We’ve been so worried. Thank heaven you’re back.” And she kissed me. “Do you know what Daddy has bought you today?”

“No,” I said. “What is it?”

“Go and look in your room,” she told me.

I rushed to my room. There, in a basket by my bed, was a little black poodle puppy, fast asleep. He jumped up, barking. He was the prettiest dog I’d ever seen – prettier even than Ruff, my dog down there in The Golden Hall. He was more real, more alive. “He’s your very own,” said my mother.

I picked him up in my arms and he tried to lick my face.

“His name is Ruff,” said my mother. Wasn’t it odd that she called him that?

When I went into the garden with Ruff at my heels I saw that all Salikon’s roses had faded. And there was no hole in the ground any more.

That night I was so happy I could hardly sleep. Ruff lay in his basket by my bed, and sometimes he gave a little “Wuff”. He was my very own dog.

💗

Read my story about the book:

A Sceptic’s Awakening: Learning to Trust the Unseen