The Door No One Knocks On ( Encanto )

Help From New Friends

Summary:

Mirabel finds a place to stay in Puerto Rico and her talent for sewing is finally seen as a Madrigal like gift.

Notes:

Why hello there! Hasn't it been a while!

I'm going to keep this brief because I don't want to keep you all and repeat myself over and over. First, I love this story. I absolutely love this story. And there is no way in hell that I am going to abandon it and leave you all on a cliffhanger. Because what kind of writer and Encanto fan would I be if I did that! I am going to finish it. I promise you. But as I have told you all before (I think in the last chapter and in the comments) that I am a college student. And so I am in the middle of my spring semester. So I'm focusing on my classes of lately (this college shit is hard and expensive guys I am telling you!). So I will do my best to update the story but I am trying my best here to update the story and write the ending (I am actually almost done with the entire story, you guys are just on chapter nine as of lately).

So I am sorry to keep you waiting. But please keep in mind that I am doing my best here. But I hope you all are excited for more coming up with the story! I'm sorry about keeping you here for so long awaiting! I am doing my best here...

Chapter Text

Mirabel looked over at the docks in front of her. Aged wood with its characteristics of dents and cracks and barnacles. It was a lot smaller than the docks back over in Ian's village. She slowly moved down the steps off of the docks, clutching her bag tightly as she admired her surroundings. The dock's pier hovers over a gorgeous white sandy beach. Mirabel couldn't help but admire and grin. The Encanto was away from the beaches of Colombia. She's always wanted to see one. Now, she was here. On a beach and not looking at a painted picture. She smiled as her feet touched the sand. A chuckle coming from her lips as some of the sand managed to bury itself inside her shoe.

There were a lot of people on the beach currently. Tall and strong men and women, moving items onto or off of small boats. Mirabel smiled. Their clothes were similar to the ones she wore at home. The colors were absolutely beautiful, despite how simple they were. Vibrant and alive. The men and women moving packages off the ships that came, mostly likely from Ian's ship or one of the many others, while some of the others were preparing fishing lines. Mirabel noticed how kind and civil they were to one another. Working with smiles on their lips even if they weren't speaking. And those who were speaking were talking in a very calm and peaceful manner. With a quick little question on direction from some of the fisherman, Mirabel walked away from the beach into a simple dirt path that led her towards the closest village. This one was just as lively as the one outside of the mountains in Colombia. The cottages and homes more on the outskirts of the main village. A bit more private with what looked like a quick walk in order to get to your neighbors. Mirabel looked around with intrigue and glee. Shops were so close together in a friendly-looking way. Oranges and teals painted on the walls with vines and flowers against the ground and cobblestone path.

There was faint music playing from the town's main square as people from all shapes, sizes, ages and colors walked along. Doing their tasks and their jobs while they sung along to the song or joined into a short dance. Mirabel came to a stop as she noticed the flag in the corner of one of the shops. Painted beautifully. She smiled. "Puerto Rico." she said to herself, her fingers grazing against the walls of one of the places. "A fresh start." Mirabel moved a lock of curls out the way of her glasses and slowly continued down the path. More and more people passed her by. A couple of them seemed quite excited when Mirabel took the second to take notice of them. Smiles on their faces as they moved about the path. Mirabel couldn't help but notice a few frowns on the faces of some women. There was worry across their brows as they whispered to one another. Unconsciously and out of her youthful curiosity, Mirabel turned her route around and followed them away from the main path and towards one of the homes in the forest and on one of the semi-tall hills. As soon as she had stepped close to the home, she heard the loud sound of very emotional wailing. The two women that she had been following met eyes and cursed, rushing into the home. Mirabel didn't enter the house, but the front door was left open just a bit. A beautiful orange color with dents and cracks in the door sticking out from wear and weathering. Mirabel looked inside, seeing a group of people surrounding one. A woman was sitting down on the ground, her head in her hands and loud sobs racking from her lips.