The living dead terrify us because they blur the most sacred boundary we know: the line between life and death. They embody the horror of what happens when nature’s rules stop working, when the familiar becomes grotesque. A corpse that moves, hungers, and remembers fragments of its past forces us to confront our deepest fear: that death might not bring peace or finality, but endless decay and instinct without soul. In the living dead, we see not only our own mortality, but the nightmare of losing what makes us human.