The Call at Indigo Crescent

It was nearly seven in the evening at Indigo Crescent, and Poppy Lewis was curled up on her worn-out armchair, a steaming cup of chamomile tea by her side. It was her daily ritual to unwind and read the dog-eared pages of her favorite mystery novel. The room was dimly lit, with shadows dancing across the floral wallpaper, when a sharp ring echoed through the house. Taken aback by the sudden noise, Poppy sat up straight. Who could be calling her on the landline? She wasn’t expecting anyone, and besides, she hadn't given the number out to anyone since she moved here six months ago. Poppy hesitated, but curiosity got the best of her. She picked up the receiver, not quite certain what to expect. "Hello?" she ventured. "Poppy Lewis." A chilling male voice crackled through the line, distorted like a radio tuned between stations. "You must be wondering why I'm calling. It's about time you embark on something meaningful." "Excuse me? Who is this?" "Find David Scorse's shop," the voice continued, ignoring Poppy's bewilderment. "You'll find your answers there." Before she could utter another word, the line went as dead as the moths that occasionally flittered in the lamplight. Poppy's heart was beating faster than she cared to admit. She rocked back in the chair, exhaling steadily. Miracles wouldn't get her a night's sleep now; she needed this mystery solved. --- The next day, Poppy wandered around the unfamiliar neighborhood, Ash Park, asking passerby after passerby about David Scorse's shop. Most shook their heads, others just looked puzzled. It was Sam, a young kid sporting a baseball cap, who finally chirped up, "Mr. Scorse's shop is two blocks down. Odd books and such. You looking for something specific?" "I think I am," Poppy nodded, intrigued. She continued down the narrow street filled with quirky buildings and complicated maze-like alleyways and landed in front of a peculiar shop named "Scorse's Oddities." The door creaked open, setting an ancient brass bell jangling. The shop was an arresting mess of books piled high, so much so that sunlight barely pierced through the dust clouds and neglected windows. An older man with spectacles perched on the edge of his nose peered over a stack of books. "Ah, Poppy Lewis! I was wondering when you'd arrive," he acknowledged warmly. "You're expecting me?" Poppy blurted, incredulity clouding logic. David Scorse nodded, smiling beneath his salt-and-pepper beard. "Indeed. I often get calls, people who find themselves here looking for all the answers. More often than not, they find new questions instead." Poppy struggled against frustration. "But, why? Why me? And who called?" David chuckled softly, extending a dusty tome her way. "Do folks ever truly know why? This might help you decide. As for the call... that's a mystery best left solved on your own." As the day passed, Poppy spent hours lost amidst the stories, sifting through pages of cryptic symbols, slipped letters, and yellowing papers that tantalized yet deflected truth. Each moment filled a void with questions she hadn't had before. Was it all coincidence, a wild goose chase, or was destiny being crafty? --- Days came and went like the turning of a page. Poppy relished enquiring, decoding, connecting notes, and along the way, she bonded with the enigmatic Scorse. They unravelled codes, encountered eccentric characters - some wise, others comically oblivious. There was comfort in belonging to something uncertain, unexpected friendships, and a place where unanswerable questions were the norm. On a dull Thursday afternoon, Scorse broke his own silence, "But Poppy, you know there’s more to these puzzles than solutions. It’s about discovering hidden truths along the way." It was then that something unlocked deep within Poppy's understanding. She realized her journey's purpose lay not with the eternal truth, but in the library of tangents she'd created, the joyous company she kept. She didn't yet have the caller's identity nor explanation—a finish line postponed perhaps indefinitely, yet she felt content. The answers didn't matter anymore. --- That evening, Poppy returned home, content and confident in the night's tranquility, welcoming any stray call it may bring.