Some Candles Burn Faster

She Makes A Choice

Mirabel had always known who her father is. She had always known what to expect from her family and peers. It was some instinctual knowledge that had been drilled into her by either herself or others from before she could remember.

Her first memory was of her standing in front of that damned door waiting for her miracle. Her second memory is of the warm hug that soon followed. The green fabric of a warm poncho getting soaked by her tears.

Those were the only solid memories for that period of her life. The rest was just a blur of people and lessons learned through harsh words and tears.

When she was 8 she started a diary, it helped calm the blur but it also made sure she remembered her father. Her amazing papá Bruno.

At 15 she had everything anyone could ask for, a source of food, a roof over her head, and the indescribable pain of being in a large family but oh so alone. She was once close to those she called family, but eventually she began to drift, further and further away. The one person she ever talked to was her darling primo Antonio. And herself but that wasn't really the point.

So here she is alone. Unwanted tears spilling from her eyes as she is forgotten yet again. Shoved aside while the rest of her family shines. She wonders if Dolores could here her gasping for air on the darkened steps of Casita. Maybe she would even bring to to Abuela's attention, of course then Mirabel might be blamed for ruining Antonio's gift ceremony. Like she would ever intentionally do that.

She could hear something shatter, maybe Luisa had dropped a vase, but Luisa is in Antonio's room. Then what?

"Casita?" The word left her in a gasp as cracks begin to fill the walls, leaving a horrifically beautiful sight in its wake. The candle was going out. The gift was dying.

Mirabel should really tell someone, let Abuela know that somethings wrong.

But, what if she didn't? What would be the worst outcome? Her family losing their gifts? Becoming like her? Though she'll be the first to admit that she would miss Casita, but, in the long term would it not be better to just let it die?

Her head was swarming with unfinished plans and convoluted ideas, feet shuffling towards the nursery and before she knew it her back was hitting the soft mattress of the bed — not hers, never hers — fingers floating over old fabric. Was she really going to do this? Let the family suffer for some sick selfish pleasure?

Yes, yes she was. Sorry Casita but she is done with trying to make them think of her as worthy.

Her eyes closed, body relaxing as she finally felt something being lifted of her shoulders. Her breath began to even out until finally she slept.

Unknown to Mirabel, the cracks slowly repaired themselves. Casita hadn't known the path Mirabel would take, but it was proud of her none the less. It would always be with her, no matter where she wound up, Casita would always protect its heir.