Author Notes: Hello everyone. Well, its new story time again!

Here's the plot. After the challenge in London during TDWT, Chris doesn't take the teens to Area 52. Instead, he takes them to a small island off of the coast of Nova Scotia. The reason is because all that's on the lifeless island is an asylum that has been abandoned since the 1940s because of a very nasty incident. But both he and the teens don't know how bad, bad enough for those who died here to come back from the grave and start picking them off one by one as darker truths exists as well. Along with Chris, Chef, and their interns; Alejandro, Cody, Courtney, Duncan, Gwen, Heather, Owen, Sierra, and Tyler will all struggle to escape this nightmare.

This story is a request from The Samurai Prince, who gave me the basic idea for the setting and plot. In fact, he said what he pitched to me is based off of the 1999 remake of the 1959 film, "House on Haunted Hill". I have seen neither film. So, instead I'm just mostly making this apply to the basic summary he gave me since it gives me the chance to a Total Drama ghost story.

Given that I currently have five on-going stories and that none of them are close to finished, adding another one onto that seems like madness. Most likely because it is.

To be honest, I've been sitting on this chapter and the first one for "Three Tests of Valor" for a little while now because I had written them but had no intention of doing the next chapter anytime soon. But I got tired of just letting them go to waste. Despite the sheer madness of it, I posted two new stories within twenty-four hours.

But, insert clever if somewhat forced transition here, that's fitting for this story.

You see, my main inspiration, after the story was suggested to me, and ultimately the main reason I agreed to start this story now despite every bastion of logic saying not to, are the writings of H.P. Lovecraft. Seriously, no Lovecraft, no this story. That's how much influence his works have on this story…and honesty, me as a writer. Similar to Alan Moore, Dante Alighieri, George Orwell, and Edgar Allen Poe, I'm extremely doubtful that I would currently be writing anything or (arguably) writing it so well without my love and respect for H.P. Lovecraft's work.

So, what is it about Lovecraft's writings that I like so much? Well, firstly, the man knows how to establish atmosphere and describe things! Seriously, a good chuck of any Lovecraft story is him describing the setting or particular, often alien, objects. But those are easily the best parts because the way he does it is so mesmerizing. There's something about his word choices and overall hopeless tone that just works. Secondly, I'm a fan of the core idea behind them. This requires a bit of explanation. Most of Lovercraft's stories fit within a literary canon called "The Cthulhu Mythos." The gist is that there are ancient forces far grander and older than we can logically understand. All of humanity is of no importance in the great scheme of the universe. We are ultimately little more than fleas when compared to the Old Ones, the indescribable monstrosities that created and continue to shape existence. Many of Lovecraft's stories are about scholars discovering twisted perversions of natural laws connected to these Old Ones that result in insanity, death, or both.

And of those fates, the second one is particularly relevant. The reason? This is the first story where I'm flat out telling you, there is going to be character death. "Mad Mikey" and "Total Drama Raptured" might or might not have character death but if they do, I'm not telling you. But here, I will say that most, if not all, of the teens will end up dead after suffering horrific and savage deaths. The story won't be rated M until the bodies start hitting the floor but know that it is coming.

Here's the first chapter of "The Doctor Will See You Now": Prelude to the Pain

Far off of the coast of Nova Scotia there was an island. For sixty years, few went to it.

This place was the sight of a great uttering of woe. Much pain and death happened here. Even though it was largely only known to few remaining inhabits of the run-down fishing town this was a place that almost not a single soul ventured onto ever since 1946. The few travelers and visitors of the town who had briefly heard of it were persuaded from not going there once they knew the full history of this indescribably ominous feeling isle.

Even if the history of the island wasn't enough, learning of it current state certainly did. Though not a very large place, its entire surface with the expectation of two buildings was completely covered in untamed forestland with no known unique landmarks. It would take much to be wandering around endlessly in the mazes of pine trees' bark, overgrown grass' flimsy emerald curtains and catbriers' interlocking vines of thorns. On all sides the island was uninviting, with a Cliffside of rocks so jagged that they could have been mistaken for steak knives made of stone and blades made of boulders. And that wasn't accounting for the conditions of the two only examples of man's influence. Though unquestionably grand in scale and still often breathtaking in their artistic merits, the two buildings were the victims of decay, slowly crumbling under time's slow advance. Dust and dirt covered many of the surfaces that were originally very sanitary. The few wild beasts that inhabited this isle's forestry had used bits of the buildings as toilets. While some of the structures were shockingly stable after the many years, some were dangerously dilapidated, to the point of being lethal, of easily maiming and killing.

So, for many reasons before moral and practical, none should have set foot on this island.

"I tella ya, bra! This old, run down island is the perfect place for a episode of TDWT!" Chris MacLean, a man for whom the definitions of moral and practical were barely known, exclaimed excitedly.

"I ain't so sure?" Chef, a man who was a stark contrast to Chris at least as far as practical and occasionally moral was concerned, questions. "For one thang, this place's got six floors. How are we gonna get this place set up with the camera equipment in time?"

"That's easy." Chris says with a dismissive hand wave. "We won't be coming here till after London. That's only a few episodes before the merge. We'll have plenty of time. Besides, we can use the mansion next door as our base of operations while we send those meat bags, uh I mean contestants, in to explore this dangerous, falling apart asylum!"

"And that's another thing, Pretty Boy. Of all the abandoned asylums, why this one?"

"And what, pray tell, is wrong with this particular abandoned asylum?"

"For starters, this place don't feel quite right. I mean the first five floors had reasons for 'em to be here. But this one? Even with the equipment, it's more like a Satanist's den." Chef says as he swings out his arm, encouraging Chris to observe this sixth floor again.

With a roll of the eyes, the handsome yet vain host of Total Drama did just that. Though he'd never admit it, this place, this floor, did feel slightly more ominous than the others. True to the Black Cook's word, there were some surgical tools, what was in the 1940s modern medical equipment, and even a few operating tables in this musky atmosphere. But those weren't the most unsettling of the features. Many others tied for that position. Along some of the moldy brick walls were slots meant for chains, to chain someone up to the wall. There were several small spaces, barely big enough for two average sized people, carved into the stone of the island itself with by now rusted metal bars blocking the openings. Some fairly rotten wooden cabinets contained jars and containers of every size and shape housing materials those identities could not be easily or quickly realized.

But those weren't what inspired the most worry in Chef. That went to the centerpiece.

At the center of this lowest level was a glass sphere. In height and width it was roughly the same scale as half of a grown man. It was balanced on a weirdly designed pedestal. Extending from this pedestal were four curved pieces of metal, resembling a bird's talon, which wrapped around the glass sphere and held it in place. Though they were at one time strong, immaculate silver, the pedestal's talon was now heavily rusted and weak. If one were asked to say what color this sphere was, they would have very difficult time. For contained within the glass orb was something barely noticeable…but unnerving. Whatever it was within this sphere was part of some strange color spectrum. It was nearly impossible to describe; and it was only by analogy that it could be called a color at all.

Surrounding the glass orb of an unnamable color on the pedestal for about three inches from every angle was a circle of black sand, forming a perfect circle of ghastly grains. Encased within this shadowy sand circle were a series of symbols unknowable to most. There were two groupings of these unreadable words moving in opposite directions. It appeared as if the same exact precision that went into the circle itself went into making sure that these carefully created calligraphies did not breach the circle's black border.

"I will say this much," Chris says looking at the sphere within breathing distance of it. "The head doc here must have had some very weird hobbies that he kept a secret. I mean, if Jerd knew about this when he told me about this dump, I bet he'd have mentioned it."

Chris then became fascinated by the most beautiful thing in the world…his own reflection. Marveling at it even as the curved nature of the glass sphere and unknowable color made seeing it difficult, Chris noticed a spot of his lunch on his pristine teeth. Using his tongue, he removed the unwanted piece of food. His vain smile reflected in the glass.

Moving just a step closer, he than tapped the sphere, half tempted to knock it over.

"Boy! Will you cut that crap out!?" Chef shouts, noticeably unnerved now.

"Alright, alright, sheesh! Chillax, bro." Chris says, staying here he is but no longer touching the glass ball. He turns to Chef. "What's got your undies in a bunch, eh?"

"I just don't think we should be messin' with this place. Some of the fish-people shore side told me some stories 'bout this place and I don't think we should be filmin' here." Chef says, very convinced about him being right on this. [1]

Chris didn't agree. "Tch!" He scoffed. "Really? Were listening to a bunch of likely in-bred locals who's fishing business died out decades ago? And what did they say, uh?" [2]

"They said that over sixty years ago the guy who ran this place was worse than the patients. He did all kinds of really nasty stuff to the inmates. Got so bad that there was an inmate revolt. Killed the head doc, his wife, and the staff. Then they killed themselves. The revolt started 'round nine at night and by mornin' no one was alive on this island."

"Really? Everybody here died all at once?" Chris says, rubbing his chin in thought. "Interesting. I might have to learn a bit more about this. Now I know we gotta use here! It's practically a rating's net! And since no one knows about this place, it'll make the ratings even better. Everyone and their grandmother will want to know about this place!"

"All that considered, I still say we shouldn't use this place. They said other things too."

"Like what!?" Chris loudly whines.

"Well…they said that sometimes they saw things on the island from the shore. Things that look like people but have this weird pale glow to them. You know…like…ghosts."

"Really? Ghosts? Were not leaving it open for more plausible options like the Great Pumpkin or the Flying Spaghetti Monster? Why don't we just give Cthulhu a call?" Chris asks with a raised eyebrow and the most smugness he could pack into his voice.

"Don't you be disrespectin' Cthulhu!?" Chef loudly and angrily proclaims. "All I'm sayin' is that we shouldn't film here and if we do I'll wager they'll be a high price to pay! And seein' how cheap you often are, I doubt you'd be willin' to pay it." Chef then leaves, traveling up the only stone stairway that connects this sixth level to the fifth level above.

"Pfft…what the heck do you know? This location will make the ratings this year killer!" You hear me Chef!?" Chris says as he starts to travel up the stairs after the Black Cook. "It's gonna make this place a killer!"

As his last words echoed in the lifeless lowest level, Chris followed Chef out of the asylum. He couldn't have known that this would be the last time he'd ever leave it.

It made no difference really if he had been told about the legends of this place before. He wouldn't have heeded the warnings. He would have dismissed the legends as nonsense.

It would have made no difference whether he knew that the circle of black sand were said to be a imprisonment that was never to be touched, that even a single sooty spec out of place might weaken its bindings enough for something not meant for our world to escape.

It would have made no difference if you had told him that it was sand circle was magic. Chris wouldn't have noticed. He doesn't believe in magic.

If you had told him, he still would have driven his foot into the circle of sooty sands. The only difference would have been that instead of ignorance and fascination with the crystal ball, Chris would have been a desire to spite whoever had seemed to believe in these kinds of silly ghost stories. After all, they were just stories, fantasies and nothing more….

Right?

With no one here, an answer was given.

The sphere, the centerpiece of this asylum's innermost and deepest level, had changed.

The color lacking context or comparison to any of the pigments or shades of the Earth oscillated, very slightly morphing into around its rim into all new unknowable colors.

As it did, the words of Chris MacLean could still be faintly heard within a dying echo.

"It's gonna make this place a killer!"

And that's the first chapter of "The Doctor Will See You Now". I hope you liked it.

Anyway, I have two things to say before the footnotes and the standard sum-up.

One, if you have any interest in learning more about the writing of Lovecraft, I can recommend two great places to go. The first is a documentary called "Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown". It's a decent summary of the man's life, personality, and some of his greatest works. I only knew a little about Lovecraft before watching this but afterwards I knew a lot more. If you're interested, the whole film's on Youtube. The second is the website "Dagonbytes", which has all of Lovecraft's stories available for your viewing pleasure for free. It also has Frankenstein, Dracula, The Picture of Dorian Gary, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Phantom of the Opera, and all the works of Edgar Allen Poe. It's a one-stop shop for classic gothic literature!

Two, it will likely be a LONG time before I update this story! I'm sorry to say that, in particular to The Samurai Prince, but this story and "Three Tests of Valor" are at the very bottom of my by now quite big list of yet to be finished fan-fictions.

[1] The term "fish-people" is a reference to the H.P. Lovecraft story "The Shadow Over Innsmouth". Here's a hint as to what it means in that story, the idea behind that term is far more literal.

[2] This is a reference to the fact that many Canadian, and American, fisheries have been in a state of decline and even death since roughly the 1980s. The reason why I know this is because of Mark Kurlansky's book "Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World." Yes, somebody write a biography about a fish. And you know the crazy part…its actually enjoyable to read and interesting!? I know, I wouldn't have believed it either but a book about codfish was very funny and quite good.

Until the next chapter, whenever it might be, please: read, review, alert, favor, and spread the word!