Chapter Text
“What just happened? I can’t see her door...”
“This didn’t happen last time, is something wrong?”
“Did it just... disappear?”
Mirabel’s head was still spinning from the events of a few hours ago, what was meant to be a glorious town-wide celebration of a new Madrigal miracle had ended abruptly after her door vanished.
The echoes from the audience still rang in her head, bouncing around like a lost voice in a cave, resonating deeply within the small girl. Draped in her nightgown now, no sight or sign of the beautiful white dress she wore earlier. The ceremonial dress had been taken gently from her by Julietta who urged that Mirabel go to bed early that night.
“So that us adults can talk.” her mother tried to reassure her, only heightening her anxiety in the process. She didn’t blame her mother though, she meant only the best.
But she was alone now, and her mother’s kind smile didn’t help dull the growing pain in her chest as she stood alone in the dark nursery. The room wasn’t set up for anyone to sleep in, the bed had been stripped - nobody was expecting her to be returning to the room that night. So she curled up under the bed, making herself as small as possible and praying that the voices downstairs would stop soon.
Mirabel was glad she hadn’t received a gift like her cousin Dolores had, it would only amplify the words spoken that she could already hear.
“Ma, it's not her fault. She had no control over it.” Her mother, Julietta, was the first voice she heard. It was nice to know how quickly she came to her defence.
“There’s no way that we could have known” A more panicked voice, her father came next.
“It is an embarrassment to us, to the Madrigal name!” the cold voice of her abuela struck Mirabel like a church bell, “How can the people have faith now?”
Mira curled in on herself even more, shutting her eyes as she ignored the shadows cast by feet under her door. She eventually dozed off on the rigid wooden floor, the sounds of voices and rats alike no longer reaching her.
Mirabel was abruptly woken from her tearful sleep, still too early to be morning, as she realised there were rats around.
‘How did they get in?’ she thought to herself ‘Doesn’t casita keep them out?’
Her heart was beating fast as she began scouring the fuzzy darkness of her nursery. Without her glasses on she could hardly see anything, but she could’ve sworn that they were still on. when she fell asleep… under the bed.But they weren’t there. And she was no longer under the bed, which had been miraculously made ready for sleeping in.
‘Casita must’ve done this.’
She reached for the place she usually kept her glasses - her bedside table - but her tiny hand knocked something soft onto the floor. She peered over the side of her bed to work out what it was, but could only see the vague green shape standing out against the dark wooden floor. She did her best to lean out into the nursery to grab it without leaving the comfort and safety of her bed; her legs still firmly planted under the covers as though resting them on the floor would invite the monsters Camillo warned her of so often.
With much struggle she managed to hoist the green object up onto her bed. It was made of a soft fabric, albeit very plain. She turned the object over in her hands to work out what it was in her groggy state, finally finding a drawstring chord that indicated it was a bag! And a full one at that!
She hastily opened it and poured its contents onto the sheets, spilling crumbs all over her bed as two empanadas fell out. Slightly crushed by the fall they had just taken, but overall intact. She began to eat one as she rummaged through the bag, her sour mood lifting slightly as she was dazzled by the mysterious gift. She discovered threads next, dull in the night, but bound to be a beautiful assortment of rainbows in the sunlight. And quickly finding the needle that went with it, immediately pricking herself on it. The wound healed up fast though.
“Mama’s cooking?” She whispered into the night.
A rat squeaked in agreement nearby, causing her to drop the needle and shocking her out of the amazement of the gift. She couldn’t see the furry creature no matter how hard she squinted to get her vision to focus, and so she resigned herself. Brushing the crumbs from her bed and placing the gift pile on the floor next to her.
“Gracias, I promise I’ll make it up to you!” Her voice was a little louder, hoping that her rodent friend heard her.
That was all the confirmation needed, as she soon heard the light pattering of rat feet on the wooden floor. Leaving her alone, buzzing with excitement as she thought of what to do with her presents next.
And then the morning did come, as it always did, in streaks of orange and yellow hues reminiscent of her tía Pepa and her cousin’s clothes. Bright and sunny as each day before it, a forecast that meant Pepa woke up in a good mood yet again. Beams stretching into the open window of the nursery, kissing the forehead of the sleeping child and waking her yet again. This time there were no unexpected guests or gifts in her room to cause her to panic, it was just her and the morning sun. Until-
Knock knock knock
On her bedroom door. A heavy-handed rap that could only belong to one person--
“Mirabel, breakfast is ready. Abuela wants to speak to you before we leave.” Luisa’s voice was soft despite the bluntness of it, like she was forcing herself to be gentle towards the small girl.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” She scrambled as she hastily tossed on her day clothes. A plain teal skirt reaching just above her ankles and a short sleeved white shirt.
She called on casita to bring her shoes to her, a familiar routine she had grown accustomed to. This time the floorboards knocked something else out from under her bed, the bag from the previous night. Spilling the wonderful threads like a technicolour waterfall. She made a note to practice with them soon and headed down to the kitchen where doom and breakfast awaited.
Mirabel was greeted by the scent of freshly cooked eggs and onions wafting in on the breeze, the bustling breakfast table already part way through their meal when she sat down. Her parents either side of her, shielding her from her Abuela and sisters beside her, yet unable to keep the prying eyes on the other side of the table. Despite the eyes on her, the table maintained a happy buzz of conversation until abuela Alma spoke up, silencing the Madrigals. She spoke few words, a simple:
“I think you should stay out of town for a while, Mirabel.”
Before she continued eating, as though nothing had happened. As though Mirabel hadn’t been hit with a second wave of bad news.
“Mama you can’t lock her up here, we spoke about this.” Her mother stressed ‘spoke’, reminding Mirabel of the conversation she had overheard last night.
“Si, she can still help out around town!” Her father now jumping to her defence, “There's no need to resort to this so soon, I can work fine without any gift.”
“My word is final; we cannot disgrace ourselves again. Can’t reopen the wound so soon.”
“So, we leave her here? Alone? They’ll say she disappeared too, just like Bru--”
“NO. Don’t say his name, I don’t want to hear it!” Pepa barked, storm clouds beginning to form around her head like a halo at the very mention of the name, “You’re only reopening more wounds Julietta. It’s not fair for anyone here.”
“Casita will protect her enough; she will be fine as long as she stays within its walls.”
No more arguments were made after that, no more excuses or reasons to involve her in the community. The rest of breakfast continued in silence. The familiar buzz from before gone, replaced by a heavy pressure that weighed on her.
She heard nothing more until afterwards, her sisters whispering to each other. Her eldest sister Luisa was barely a teenager, so young yet carrying the weight of the world on her back. Strong as ever.
“Why doesn’t she have to do anything? We were all her age when we used our gifts to start helping, why can she get away with being useless?”
“Isa, you know it's different for her. You saw what happened yesterday, she has no gift to help people with. It’s for the best that she stays here, abuela knows this is for the best. I’m sure she won’t be here forever.” a pause “She can still help out, just go easy on her.”
“I just don’t understand why we have to tiptoe around her now.”
“She’s... fragile. Come now, we’re probably wanted already.”
And with that, the conversation ended, and their footsteps receded out into the openness of the outdoors, leaving their younger sister pressed flat against a pillar. Holding her breath to not make a noise as she listened intently, tears threatening to spill from her big eyes. But she wouldn’t let it happen. She would be strong, in her own way. Strong for her family, strong so that they wouldn’t call her weak or crybaby. Strong for --
“Ah, there you are mija. You’re so quiet, I almost couldn’t find you!” Her mother said with a tender smile, “Would you like to help me cook for a bit? I could always use another pair of hands, especially yours since you have the touch.”
“The touch? But mama I don’t have any gift.”
“You don’t need magic for this,” her mother said, taking Mirabel’s hands in her own, “your hands are built for art. No doubt about it, even your sister couldn’t match what you make.”
Mirabel gasped and pulled away to inspect her hands carefully, holding her mother's hand yet again when she was ready to be guided to the kitchen. She knew her mother didn’t really need her help, but it felt good to be loved in such a way. Her mother’s humming banished any negativity away as they worked together in the kitchen. The movements so natural to her mother, years of honing her gift now passed on as she gently guided Mira’s small hands.
Not too long later most of the work was done. The young girl moved to sit at the table with her mother, but before she could climb onto the chair her mother spoke:
“Run along now my quiet ratónita, I’ll call you when they’re done. I need to keep an eye on them or else your father will steal them again” she sighed out, then began to chuckle, “That man denies it, but some always go missing I swear!”
“Gracias mama” she beamed “I won’t go far” 'I can’t go far' was left unspoken. And then she wandered off to find her youngest cousin, she had questions she prayed he was able to answer.
“Camillo! There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Mira panted, “You haven’t been shapeshifting to get away from me, have you?”
“Me? Shapeshifting? Never, I don’t know why you’d even mention that!” He was a terrible liar.
“You are a terrible liar.” She deadpanned. “Your whole face is red! I promise it’s nothing bad this time. I just have a question.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay,” He puffed out his chest and sniffed to appear cooler than he just was acting “ask me the question and I’ll see if it's worth answering.”
“Who’s Bruno?”
Her cousin deflated suddenly, “What?”
“Bruno, mama and tía said his name earlier. Who is it?”
“I... hm, I don’t think I can say. Mama gets stormy when I ask.” He was quieter now, seemingly worried someone might overhear.
“Please camaleón, I don’t want to be trapped in here not knowing.” She pleaded, using that oh-so familiar nickname she reserved for these situations.
“Fine, but come with me, and be quick. I probably need to go soon.”
He led his younger cousin to his room on the upper level in the house, there had been very few occasions Mirabel was allowed in but each time had been breathtaking. The room was completely dark until Camillo stepped in, when it completely remodeled itself to match what the young boy wanted. It matched his gift perfectly, and made it the best place to hang out (when he let others enter, that is).
It took Mirabel a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the unusually dark lighting; Camillo’s scenes were always so well lit so it felt out of character for him to present such an ominous place. The only light came from a soft green glowing, the source unknown, as it cast long shadows of the pair of Madrigals on the stone walls.
She didn’t like this place, it felt off to her. Her anxiety made her legs refuse to cooperate with her brain, which still held some morbid curiosity towards what her cousin was going to show her.
“Hey, Mira! C’mon I told you I don’t have long.” He grabbed Mirabel’s hand and pulled her further away from the door, she watched it fade into the darkness before turning back to her cousin.
“As I was saying, Papa only told me stories. But Bruno was our tío.” Camillo continued, ignoring the fear written all over his younger cousin’s face as he spoke, “He could see into the future, but it was always bad. They say if he ever looked into your future, you would be doomed.”
“But then... What happened to him?” Mirabel’s voice trembled as she spoke, “He isn’t still around, is he?”
“He disappeared, but some say he still roams nearby. Waiting for the day he can pounce and doom someone else!” He began to cackle and shift into an impossibly tall man with pale skin stretching over his skeletal form, and glowing green eyes all hidden under a mop of long curly hair.
Mirabel pulled away and began to run towards where she remembered the door was, only to find herself falling through the ground. She let out a scream, but it was cut short by her cousin catching her at the bottom, safely lowering her to the ground. She noticed it was no longer the creepy passageway she had just fallen from, it now took the form of a simple bedroom. Reminiscent of the nursery the two had shared up until a few months ago.
It didn’t stop her eyes welling up with tears as she moved to sit on the wooden floor, burying her head as she did so. This time Camillo took notice in the shift of her mood, cringing in on himself as the conversation didn’t go the way he intended it to.
“But it’s okay! If he ever came back I’d make sure to scare him off, alright? He wouldn’t even get the chance to curse us while I’m around! See?” He tried to get her to look up at him again, but she refused to move. “Luisa could fight him off anyway.”
He let out a sigh, moving to sit next to her. Camillo wasn’t the type to be quiet, but he sat in silence as he pondered what to say next that would make her happy. It took him a few minutes before he spoke up again.
“Mira, you know it's not your fault, right?” He said, deciding to just give up on the Bruno conversation altogether. “Last night?”
Mirabel shrunk into herself a bit, but gave a small nod.
“It’s alright, I know someone who’s the coolest and best person in the town! And they don’t need a gift.”
The young girl looked to the boy beside her, only to be met with her own reflection. “And that person is you!”
She giggled at that, which only encouraged Camillo to keep going, now talking in a high pitched voice.
“Look, I’m Mirabel, the coolest Madrigal! Other than my cousin Camillo.”
“Come on, I don’t sound like that!” She pushed him jokingly, laughing as he shifted back into himself. He stood up, holding out a hand for Mirabel to pull herself off the floor with, before walking to the door with her.
“What was with the rats?”
“Hm? Oh, mama once let slip that she saw him feeding rats. It makes sense, creepy pets for a creepy guy.”
“Oh, yeah! It does. Thank you primo.” She smiled, waving him off as he ran out of the door to catch up with his departing family.
Her smile faded as she was left alone with her thoughts, the conversation with her cousin only leaving her with more unanswered questions: Why did Bruno leave? How did he doom people when he could only predict the future? Was he really that evil? But her time thinking was cut short by her mother calling her back to the kitchen, stopping the young girl before she spiralled into her questions.
The young Madrigal girl was pleasantly surprised, she had expected her first day inside to be lonesome yet she felt a little lighter after the conversation with Camillo. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as she thought it’d be.
Her mother had already packed away most of the arepas when she reached the kitchen, leaving only a few out on a plate for Mirabel to eat later. She noticed that they were the ones she had made, as they weren't as good as the rest; all of them were meant to be rats, but they came out bloated and wrong. She shook the thought from her head, it didn’t matter what they looked like as long as they tasted alright and her rodent friends liked them.
Her mother bent down to kiss Mirabel on the head, “I told you, your hands are perfect for creating!”
The little girl looked down to her hands again for a moment, before looking up at her mother, beaming. “Yeah! I’m gonna get better though.”
“Not too much, I hope. You’ll have the whole town eating your food and not mine!” The two laughed at that. But the child had another idea on things to make, thinking back to the threads hidden in her room.
“I’ll be back soon Mira, stay out of trouble while I’m gone, okay?”
“Of course!”
And with that, the tiniest Madrigal was left all alone in casita. Her only company existed in the rats, who relayed everything back to their unseen master, Mirabel being completely oblivious to the fact. She didn’t fret over her lack of a human companion though, as she scrambled back up the stairs with arepas in hand, ready to pack them away in the green bag she was given.
She carefully packed them away, doing her best to avoid crushing them and distorting their already strange shape. She then grabbed some spare paper to write out a thank-you note on, taking her time to write everything as neatly as she could.
‘Gracias, your gifts meant the world to me. So, I hope you like yours too! I’m sorry they didn’t come out good, I tried to make rats like you. My cousin told me about rats and my scary uncle, but you don’t seem so bad so I think I can be friends with you.
And thank you for the thread, if you bring the bag back, I can try to sew on it to make it prettier!’
She looked over her finished letter, deciding it was good enough with a quick nod before folding it and putting it in the bag with the food, placing the bag back onto the ground near her door when she was done. She rushed back to her chair so she could get a look at the rats she had heard the previous night, but the bag had disappeared when she turned back around. Leaving quickly after grabbing the bag.
Mirabel let herself scowl at the door before sighing and relaxing back into her seat. She was sure that they would meet again. And for now Mirabel had something more important to work on. She reached down to the spools of thread she had left on the ground when she emptied the back, pondering what to make first with them.