Outside the Encanto

The Secrets A Trapdoor Can Hold

You feel woozy, like Lochlands corpse was thrown onto your back. Several people hold onto you, including Fish Lady. She puts your arm around her shoulder and her arm around your waist. You don't resist, trapped in your own thoughts.

Lochland was a good kid, never really got in trouble. You looked up to him, the handsome boy who'd held you as you had a panic attack, how he refused to let go. The boy who looked out for everyone, who didn't let his past interfere with his present. Someone who braided your hair and showered you with gifts whenever your period came.

How had he even gotten caught? You'd watched him exit the prison. Had Papa possibly followed you there, could he have known?

Hot tears spill out of your eyes, as you finally collapse in a sob. Fortunately, Fish Lady was still holding onto you. You'd never realized how tall she was. Or muscular.

She leads you through her house, but doesn't let you go. You examine the living room, refusing to look into her eyes. After all, she's not the person you want to see.

The living room is cute, the small couch you're sitting on, a beautifully patterned quilt on the other side of it, and best of all, a grandfather clock that ticks loudly, you can hear it through the protests outside. It must drive Dolores crazy. Or at least, it did.

"Coffee. Drink it, believe me, you'll want it." Fish Lady says, gently placing a steaming cup in your hand. You take a sip, ugh. Of course it had to be your favorite.

"You weren't around, right? For announcing what he did?" She says, looking into your eyes. You don't look back.

"No, I wasn't."

"Lochland was executed for freeing the Madrigals. He did what the rest of us wouldn't. That boy was braver than any of us." She says, praising him. She closes her eyes. You see glitter fall over her face, and spot glittery eyeshadow almost as dark as her skin on there.

"Lochland was stupid to have freed them. Even stupider to have gotten caught. Why?! Why him?! I could've done better, I could've saved him!" You shout, chucking the coffee cup across the room, gripping your hair by the scalp, as if determined to pull it out. The cup shatters against the wall, underneath a picture of a black man with a shaggy beard and tattered clothes.

Fish Lady mops up the mess, then looks at the picture. She presses two fingers to her lips, then placed them on the spot where his lips are in the image.

"Do you know who that is?" She asks, and you shake your head. "Heh, I wouldn't think so. His name was Thomas. He was an American slave, escaped on the Underground Railroad. His last name used to be the same as his.. well.. "owner," but he dropped in when he escaped. So he was just Thomas. But you know what? A ship was heading to South America and needed an extra hand, so he volunteered. He met my Abuela on that ship. Started a family, and here I am." Fish Lady says, smiling proudly at the picture.

"Did you get to know him?" You ask, something you always ask about Abuelos. You'd never met your own, so it seems like a mystery to you. You'd assume it would be like Abuela, but more manly. Pretty much Papa, but old and wrinkly. Not that Papa isn't old or wrinkly to begin with.

"Of course I knew him. He was very old when he died, but that was before you were born. He would tell my brothers and sisters and I about America, about the kind men and women who took him to the north, and to Canada. The strangest thing about him, he always said he wished for a chance to speak with his master again. Not as slave and owner, but equals. He wouldn't tell us what he wanted to say, but just said he wanted to." She said, now taking the frame off the wall to hold it, as if he was really in there.

"He wanted to go back?" You say, remembering the stories you'd heard about America. It was a beautiful country, yes, but you've never understood racism. Skin was just that. Skin.

"My Abuelo had faith in people. He did love America, yes, and he believed it would change. And I've heard it has."

"And the Encanto can change too." You blurt, coming to a revelation.

"What?" Fish lady looks at you with speculation, holding the picture closer to her now.

"You're right, America did change. It changed through a Civil war, one that the side of freedom won. We can be that side! We can free the Encanto." You say, keeping your voice down, but excitedly looking at Fish Lady.

She closes the windows, blinds, and curtains. She blows out the candles, darkening the house. Since it's daytime, it's not completely dark, but light enough to where you can see Fish Lady moving her rug to to the side, and seemingly lifting up the floor. Fish Lady gestures for you to follow her, and you comply.

Trapdoor.

You follow her down a wide network of tunnels, ones that must be at least 50 years old. The walls re cracked and stained with muddy seepage, it smells of mold.

You finally stop at a door, one painted with the same glitter that hides on Fish Lady's eyes. She knocks four times, in a swift pattern. A small hatch opens, and let's her in. She takes your hand and has you enter the room as well.

Inside is a shelter like room, filled with chairs and tables, small bunk beds, among other necessities. The room is dimly lit by candles that produce no smoke, only light.

There are people, too. People you know Papa was planning on locking up, people who might be ready to revolt at any sign of hope.

The room slowly fills, jam packed so tight there's standing room only, and some people even crowd on the bunks. Nobody is younger than you.

"Welcome. As you know, we have someone new with us today." A young man says, looking at you with something in his eyes that you can't read. Fish Lady puts her arm around your shoulder, as to assert dominance over you. Normally, this would irritate you, but with the hate filled stares that seem to burn into your skull, you're kind of glad for the obvious protection.

Fish Lady stands. "I brought miss Y/n L/n here today, because I believe she will help our cause." She declares. "Y/n, this is the resistance. We have all sworn to save the Encanto at all costs, to stop your fathers tyranny." She says, breathing heavily. You look around and see Solomon, Dominic, and Cisco, all standing in the back, watching you with solemn expressions, like they're tryin to intimidate you.

"We can't say much more now, without knowing where your loyalties lie." The man says, focusing all the attention on you.

Your life seems to flash before your eyes. Growing up with your family, the warm embrace of the twins, or Eduardo and Joshua playing with their gifts, while you watched in envy. Little you baking cupcakes for everyone, and the whole family pretending to enjoy them, even though you'd accidentally used salt instead of sugar. You'd felt so proud- but from now on, the jars had labels on them.

Flashes of Casita crumbling also come, of Mariano's whipping, and then his elderly mothers. Of Abuela trying to slit Alma's throat. Of Mirabel and Antonio's poor bodies, doomed to have ugly scars as markers of the hate crimes against them, and the effort to escape.

Most of all, Lochlands head being chopped clean off. The Madrigal weren't even with him, how could they just kill him like that? How many more innocent needed to die before your father freed the town, or will it all be pointless?

"I'm in."