Note: Sadly, I do not own Dead Space, EA Games has copyright, although the ideas for this story belong to me so DO NOT steal my story! Or i'll hunt you down!
Its eyes lay on his face like red beams of light, paralyzing, almost as if peering into the man's very soul. It stood there for what seemed like an eternity, lowly gurgling and growling. The necromorph was as tall as any average man, with deformed appendages sticking out of exposed flesh and organs. Blood and tissue mass continues to seep out of the creature's orifices as it stands. Its eyes still glowing in the darkness, much like the tapetum lucidum in a cat's eye. The man, standing frozen in time, blinked and in an instant the necromorph was gone. He shook his head and wondered if it was actually a figment of his imagination, or an apparition created by the Marker. The image of the morbid being burned into the back of his mind. Its jaw ripped off, with worm-like tendrils withering from it's what used to be mouth Its chest torn open, exposing ribs, some intact, some cracked or broken, with two arm-like appendages protruding out of the crevice. Large, blade-shaped growths jutted out of its misshapen shoulders. It was a devilish sight, something that no human being should witness. Isaac Clarke shook his head to help rid of the image, feeling that he would meet many more of these horrid walking corpses.
Knowing that his very life-and insanity- were on the line, he continued his journey through the Ishimura, wondering hopelessly, desperately trying to think of a plan to save himself, and perhaps any survivors of this appalling epidemic. He made his way through the entry gate lobby, where he previously encountered the revolting image. He progressed through the passages and corridors of the vast planet cracking vessel , the USG Ishimura. The most prevalent, and honorable ship, the first of her kind. Sure, Isaac was eager to be aboard her, but not at these circumstances. It was a massacre, which was an understatement. Each and every wall Clarke walked by, there were blood and brains. Much like the breathe-taking Titanic, the Ishimura just wasn't meant to be.
Isaac reached what seemed to be a semi-safe resting place. For now, at least. He walked in the poorly-lit room. The door slid shut behind him, with a holographic "open" sign on it. He looked around and noticed about 15 candles scattered throughout the floor. Someone must have been here before me, Isaac thought. There was another door open across the area. There were 2 other doors, one that read "locked" on its holographic precursor, and another that was barricaded shut by chairs and large storage bins. There was an automated store in the corner, and a bench on the other side. He walked to a counter on the far side of the span of the room, and examined the contents that lay before him. A plasma cutter lay on the table. These were used by the colony to help smash and break away large amounts of rock to get to the rich minerals that reside deep within a planet. Perfect as a deadly weapon against these reanimated corpses. He picked it up and reloaded it, carefully inspecting the gun-like tool he held in his grasp. He jumped slightly as he heard a loud THUG followed by a CLANG! His heart beat faster as he held his breathe, attempting to listen for any more disruptions. He watched the ceiling, tightening the hold on his newly forged weapon, sweat trickling from his forehead. Nothing. All he heard after that was the loud beat of his heart and his raspy breathing. As soon as he let his guard down, a vent door from the ceiling came crashing to the ground, and a bloody mound of meat on top of it. Isaac shot at the mass several times before realizing that it was already dead. He cautiously walked towards it, moving his glance from the foreign object that crashed through the ceiling, and to the ceiling itself. As he inched closer, he swallowed what seemed like a large, burning lump in his throat. He stood over the large and dark mass, and then looked up at the dark, menacing hole in the ceiling with blood trickling from it. But thankfully his trusty plasma cutter came equipped with a very suitable flashlight. He shined it into the gaping break in the ceiling, but saw nothing. When he was satisfied with his findings, he looked down, shining his weapon at the bloody mess. He squinted and knelt down to observe it more closely. As soon as he comprehended what it was, he fell backwards and crawled back away from the entity. After he caught his breathe, he shined his source of light back at the object. It appeared to be a torso, the trunk of a man. Or woman, Isaac could not be certain. The skin was peeled off and the limbless body was completely torn up, the organs oozing and bubbling from the stomach acid. It smelled terrible. Isaac put his hand over his mouth and hesitating slightly, quickly grabbed an ID tag that lay beside the lifeless mass of muscle. There was a picture of a man, the age of 27. He had light brown hair and brown eyes. The card read that he was a first year surgical technician. Isaac looked back at the body, then back at the picture. He writhed in fear and realized that nowhere is safe, there is no hiding. He had to get away from this place, and he had to do it quick. Clarke got up off his feet, and gazed at the unlocked door. Not looking back, he pushed forward in the dark void, known as Dead Space.