The sun. Unmerciful, white, hot.

The sun. Unmerciful, white, hot. It endlessly does not allow me to look for food, driving into the shade of jasmine bushes. But I'm patient, and, finally, I'm waiting for my - a couple of creatures able to satisfy my eternal hunger. The creatures were moving something at the foot of the former house, and I'm going to meet them - meat, live meat, closer and closer. They squeak something, but I do not understand them, only I draw my hands forward, ready to tear the flesh and fill my palms with blood dripping from torn veins. One creature escaped and somewhere runs, I try not to lag behind, anyway I will overtake it - the sun is leaning towards the horizon, it's my time. Mine and such as me. We are many, very many. And we are very hungry.

The theme of living dead always excited cinematographers. Already in the thirties, Victor Halperin's The White Zombie, George Terwilliger's "Drums of the Night", "The Walking Dead", "The King of Zombies", "Voodoo Island", "Plan 9: From the Open Space", and other similar tapes come out. But it was a second-rate movie, which did not pretend to be laurels and recognition of critics. The world has changed with the release of "Night of the Living Dead" by George Romero. The first film of the genre, which is not ashamed to include in a different list of compulsory to watch movies. Even the National Council of the United States for the preservation of films for storage in the Library of Congress has included a picture of Romero in its roster, and highbrow specialists VGIK cheerfully recommend it for compulsory acquaintance.

Although according to all the canons, "Night of the Living Dead" is a base trash. Animated by the cosmic virus, the devourers of the flesh wander around the cities and villages in search of a blood streaming through the veins and a smoking man. White and battered, they stop cars, break into houses, wait on the streets. They greedily try to get enough. The army is mobilized, the president is full of enthusiasm, and a group of random passers-by desperately tries to hammer the plywood doors of the farmhouse in boards with a wild hope of escape. But death is already inside, and it will overtake everyone.

Of course, the creators did not expect special financial injections. In the course were white, second-hand shmate, chocolate syrup, cars from the dump. Legend extends the extras of the crowd of 1 dollar and T-shirts with a memorable inscription. Everything is as usual. And suddenly success. A decent financial, and, more valuable, cult. The tape received the status of the foremother of the canon, the director was brought in to please the viewer's desire, which in no way perceived George Romero in a different form than the Kinzombi Baptist. Going to the movies for living dead was a sign of taste. Thousands of Hollywood workers received a piece of bread. Some even with a thick layer of caviar.

My goal is getting closer and closer. I can smell her, I feel her fear. I will not be stopped by the burning out armchair, the click of a hunting rifle, a shrill shriek. The next board is already cracking and breaking. A wave of suffering meat brings me into the room. I push off the elbows of others, digging into the rotten teeth into something soft and trembling. It's good for me. In the cracks of the walls, the weak rays of dawn begin to break through slowly. It's time to go. Search for new unlocked doors.