A/N: I do not own Godot; CAPCOM does. The original plot that this story is based on and the children, however, are mine. :) The revisions, the title and the punchline are my husband's.
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A house at the end of a street has had some odd things happen there recently. A young boy decides to investigate only to come upon something unexpected...

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Ta dah! First ever Godot fic! :) It starts out creepily but ends on a very humorous note. :)

My husband, DezoPenguin, contributed to this fic. I had the original story idea and, when I discussed it with him, he suggested an alternate one using elements from my original idea that I took and ran with. :D The punchline and the title are also his contributions. :) Thanks, Sweetie! :)

It's September and fall is on its way! :) The writing bug has bitten me but hard which is all to the good, as far as I'm concerned! I have so many things to catch up on, new ideas for fics to write and some good seasonal creep Halloween themed fics, as well bouncing around in my head! :) Fall is my favourite season of the year-besides winter, which I also love-and the one I always look eagerly forward to every year. I love the cooler weather, the brilliant colours of the leaves, the short days and the long nights which are heady inspiration for my ghosts and goblins mood. :) Oh, and NFL football, too! :)

Every town has an old, decrepit house that everyone thinks is haunted-which is the driving idea behind this story-as did the town where I grew up. :) I loved hearing the tales when I was a child and I still love hearing them now as an adult. Whenever I-or my husband and I, on a trip-happen to pass by an old, abandoned house, I always wonder what its story is and what it could have seen in its time.

I hope that you enjoy the fic! :)

Thanks to my readers and all those who have favourited, reviewed, story alerted, favourite author or author alerted me. I appreciate it more than I can say!

Thanks to my beta, Pearls1990, for her critique! Much appreciated! :)

Special thanks to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all his help, support, advice, nagging (when necessary) and encouragement! I appreciate it more than I can say! Love you!

Comments and suggestions are welcome and appreciated! *I'll probably change some things at some point; always room for improvement! :) *

Rated K, humor
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October 30th

The young boy peered warily around the hedge that surrounded the old and decayed house that stood at the end of the dead end street. Once, it had been the center of the town's social scene where the cream of society would gather for festivals and holiday celebrations but had fallen on hard times one hundred years earlier. From that time forward, it had been abandoned and new tenants didn't usually stay more than a few months and the last family to occupy the place had moved out after only a week some thirty years previously. Since then, it had stood empty.

His eyes took in the scene around him, quickly darting back and forth in the encroaching gloom. Jay, his best friend since the third grade, had told him about the weird things that had been going on at that house in the past three months: the sound of heavy footsteps going up and down the stairs; mysterious, glowing red lights that shone out of the silent, dusty corners at night that seemed to travel from one room to the other; hammering noises that were heard both day and night and a weird, sepulchral voice that whispered at twilight in the ruined courtyard.

He'd heard from his parents as they, no doubt, had heard from theirs for countless generations, talk about the house at the end of the street and, looking for an adventure to liven a boring Saturday night, the boy had taken it upon himself to investigate and get to the bottom of the mystery.

He had visions of his friends and perhaps even some of his more recalcitrant classmates, regarding him as a great hero, praising him and being in awe of his courage since no one he knew even wanted to be on the same side of the street where that house was situated. In his mind, he preened under their uninhibited praise, standing up proudly before the entire school as an example of real courage; those who tormented him on the playground would be forced to respect him because he would have done something that they had not and hadn't the courage to do.

Now that it was almost dark, however, he wasn't so sure that he wanted to go through with it; the creepy shadows that the dead and gnarled trees threw off in the ensuing darkness made them look alive and he felt a chill creep down his spine.

He shook his head hard, trying to steel himself for what he had to do. He couldn't back out now; Stevie Morris had triple dog dared him after he had overheard him talking about how he would be the one to discover what was making all those odd sounds. It had been a stunning pronouncement, made in front of his entire class on the playground.

He wiped his sweaty palms on the knees of his jeans, narrowing his eyes and staring off into the gloom that seemed to permeate the area around the house, enveloping it like a shroud. No, he wasn't going to back down, despite what Stevie and others like him contended; he was going to be the one who found out what was making all those weird sounds that he'd been hearing about for years.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and slowly made his way down the sidewalk that led away from the hedge toward the house, slipping past the rusty iron-wrought gate that was always left partially open and made his way a little more quickly through the ruined courtyard and garden.

There was just something eerie about the way the creeping ivy seemed to be covering all the remaining trees that were bent and twisted, their dead branches reaching up pathetically as if to claw the sky and even the left side of the house itself was covered, as if it were being consumed by the encroaching fauna.

The wind had a bite to it as it blew through the courtyard, rattling the barren branches and he shivered as he quickened his pace until he was practically running. This place, more than any other, had always given him the creeps when he'd come here with his friends on occasion and it was with relief when he had passed by, making his way quickly toward the house.

He arrived at the steps which led up to the porch, pausing for a few moments in order to catch his breath; the short dash had taken a little more out of him than he had anticipated and needed some time to recover. He was also struck by something else, as well: was it his imagination or did the path to the house seem longer now than it had in the past? He didn't remember it being this long before!

How could this be...? he thought, biting his lip. As far as I know, no one has been here for a long time so why does it feel longer?

He practically raced up the creaking steps which whined in protest as his sneakered feet pounded upon them and didn't stop until he reached the faded and warped oak door. He stopped to catch his breath and strained his ears to listen but there was no sound in the silence, not even a whisper of wind blowing through the trees. As of yet, he hadn't heard anything as of yet out of the ordinary and certainly not like the stories had painted it, the dusk of twilight now being replaced by a black, moonless night.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a midnight-blue flashlight which he switched on, a bright, yellow light illuminating the area wherever it shone. He noticed, quite to his surprise, the faded and warped door was slightly ajar; this also struck him as unusual but he moved forward despite his growing sense of unease.

He crept inside, taking care to avoid some of the nails that he could see jutting out intermittently through some of the rotted boards of the floor. He shuddered but made his feet move forward; there didn't appear to be anything in the near vicinity but his uneasiness was increasing with every moment that passed.

He was about to take a step out of the foyer when he thought that he heard something and stopped, straining his ears, listening hard for a moment; he could hear soft, dulcet tones that seemed to be talking in hushed tones coming from somewhere deep inside the pitch-black house... and it sounded like they were close by. His eyes widened, his heart started thudding in his chest and it was difficult to push himself forward; he was unnerved by those soft voices and, to his chagrin, his hands started to shake.

He really didn't want to go any further inside the house but, regardless of how he felt about it, he had to. Stevie had basically called him out in front of his classmates by triple dog daring him; he knew that he wouldn't be able to show his face again on the playground if he chickened out. One did not back down from a triple dog dare anytime for any reason!

Stevie would certainly enjoy that, wouldn't he? he thought bitterly, his left hand clenching into a fist. Well, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of making a fool out of me; I'll show him who's not a coward!

Buoyed by this thought, he started to walk forward again but stopped dead in his tracks before he'd gotten two steps further. His heart started to beat faster when he heard something that seemed to ring in the deafening silence and he strained his ears once again, leaning over in the direction from which he thought that the sounds, that he now knew for certain were actually voices, were coming from.

The voices, soft at first, were slowly increasing in volume and he could feel the floor tremble slightly beneath his feet. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting fearfully as the sounds came closer; he could feel the floor beneath him vibrate even more than it had before in time with the frenetic beating of his heart.

He swallowed hard over the lump forming in his throat; he was spooked and he couldn't deny it. His courage was fading fast but he forced himself to stay put, his heart beating so fast that the sound seemed to fill the room, echoing in the silent house. Every instinct within was screaming at him to leave but he couldn't.

Calm, calm... I need to be calm. If this was designed to calm his increasingly rattled nerves, it wasn't working.

The floor vibrated even more and he could hear heavy footsteps coming ever closer to where he stood, frozen to the spot in abject terror, at the end of the foyer. It seemed to him that there were two sets of footsteps since, when one stopped, there was always another that picked up the slack where the first had left off.

The boy was terrified, every instinct within him warning of approaching danger. Even if he had wanted to flee, he couldn't since his feet seemed rooted to the floor which was a wonder since his legs were trembling so badly that they threatened to give out beneath him.

I have to be calm... I have to stay...! I have to; I can't let them know that I was scared! He repeated this mantra over and over in his mind in an attempt to calm nerves but it was becoming nearly impossible not to want to bolt... or it would have been if he'd been able to move.

The voices and the footsteps were coming ever closer. Suddenly, his heart leaped into his throat as his terrified eyes saw three weird, glowing red lights appear almost in front of him. He stood there, his mouth frozen in terror as they flickered before the room was suddenly bathed in a bright, white light that seemed to come from over his head, illuminating the foyer and every dark nook and cranny in the silent hallway.

W-wh-?!

For a few moments he stood, frozen to the spot, the red lights slowly advancing until, with a loud shriek, he threw down his flashlight, turned and bolted out the door, knocking it off its rusted hinges in his mad dash past it.

His feet never even seemed to touch the ground as he ran and, although he did stumble a few times during his mad flight, he he didn't stop running until he got home where he burst through the front door, white faced and scared, startling his parents as he raced by them and up the stairs.

He never told anyone about his misadventures at the old house although his friends couldn't help but notice that he was inexplicably silent whenever the subject of the old house came up. Though they repeatedly questioned him, he refused to answer and, eventually they left him alone.

Except Stevie. All in all, to his surprise, that didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. He never went back to that house again.

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The real estate agent closed her clipboard, switching off the foyer light, throwing it, once again, into a funereal darkness.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, turning toward the white-haired man who stood a little to her right. "It will need a bit of sprucing up, to be sure, but I think that this place would be perfect for your needs. I'd be willing to knock off fifteen thousand from the purchase price to reflect the cost of repairs."

Godot was silent for a moment, his mask glowing faintly in the ethereal gloom.

'"This would have been perfect for my new coffee shop," he said at last, "but, after due consideration, I don't think that this is the right place for it."

"Oh?"

He gestured toward the ruined door hanging limply on its hinges, his mouth twisting into an ironic smile.

"After all," he continued, "if the rats are so energetic that they knock down the front door, they don't need the extra caffeine."