In the Mirror – The Story of Ludovic Caesar


Nobody who ever met Ludovic Caesar could honestly say that he didn’t strike them as a reasonable and polite young man. He was strangely intelligent for his twenty three years, and there was something about the way he spoke that drew people to him. He pondered his choice of words carefully before speaking them, and when he did, they were beautiful and fluid, like poetry. Ludovic Caesar was a man who mostly declined the company of other beings, a man who was more content with his work then with his social life. He was rather ordinary to look at, at least at first, with his slicked back hair and his hazel eyes, but when you looked deeper into these supposedly ordinary features, you would see the frostiness in his smile, the cruel line of his mouth and the sinister glitter in his dark, shadowed eyes.
The people who looked past his charming politeness were troubled by what they saw. Ludovic Caesar seemed to have a different identity hidden behind his smile. This… hidden identity was disturbing, dangerous, like a snake biding its time before it strikes. There was whispered conversation between these few people that Ludovic Caesar was not normal, was not like them. But yet another thing added to their theories; even when they were sure he had heard not a snippet of gossip, he would pause to smile that disturbing, all-knowing smile at them when walking by.
Ludovic ran his own little clinic, for he was a clever, able doctor and his knowledge and standards easily met requirements. He soon became popular, and although he was little-known he preferred that. He hired no staff, just worked his own business and made his living for himself and his new fiancée, Irene Stratford. She was a pretty, resourceful woman and was the only person Ludovic could ever be content with. She loved him, but the fact that he seemed to have no family puzzled her. Her own family were long since lost to a car crash, and she had hoped to be accepted by Ludovic’s parents. However, when she asked after them, she was hushed by a frosty reply. “Mother passed away shortly after my birth, and my father is late of four years.” He did not mention how his father had died.
Irene burned with curiosity over her strange fiancé, but she kept it silent because, deep inside, she was fearful. She was fearful of Ludovic and his icy smiles and his secret looks and his dark, dark eyes. But the thing that terrified Irene the most was the stare. Every so often, a look would cloud Ludovic’s handsome features, a look of pure insanity, uncontrollability and most of all, wild, animal hunger. When he looked at her like that Irene wanted to flee the room. Often she considered leaving him, but then who knew what he would do to her?
Eventually she summoned as much strength as she could muster and advanced to the lounge to confront him. Ludovic was standing, leaning on the polished round coffee table, fingertips resting on the shining mahogany surface. That inhuman, ravenous look possessed his face, and he seemed to be trying to hold something in; his knuckles sank to the table top as his long, slim fingers folded themselves into his palms, into fists. Irene swallowed, took a step back. Ludovic Caesar glanced up sharply. His face cleared into a surprised, incredulous look. He swallowed.
“Irene,” he said, his remarkable voice dry. “What brings you here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I’ve seen something much scarier than a ghost, thought Irene. She took two steps forward to control herself. Ludovic removed his hands from the table and casually strolled halfway around the round table until he was about two metres away from Irene. She held herself just enough not to step back. “Well?” Ludovic raised one slim hand. “Ludovic, I’m afraid,” she gushed, then clapped a hand to her mouth. Ludovic froze. “Why?” he asked. Irene took he hand away. “You look at me in a way that scares me. Ludovic, when you look at me like that you look as if you want to rip me apart, tear me limb from limb!”
Ludovic’s face was chalk white. He swallowed. Then he moved forward. Irene flinched. Ludovic took her face in his hands. “Irene,” he said. His eyes softened. “I love you more than anything. I would never hurt you. Dear God, I value your life more than mine!” Conflicting emotions battled across his face. “You have no idea what I have endured,” he whispered into her wide-eyed face. “If you, so innocent, so pure, had seen that I have seen…” his voice tailed off. He released her face. “Please, just forgive me, Irene. I would never harm you.” He turned, swallowed, and left the room.
Ludovic hurried down the corridor and barricaded himself in his bedroom. He sank to the floor, head in hands. “If she knew what I am…” he whispered. “If she saw what I have become…” Images flashed behind his closed eyes; the carpet stained and sticky, his hands dripping red, his father’s severed body sprawling spread-eagled across the table…
Ludovic gagged, and, staggering to his feet, he stumbled to the bathroom just in time. He vomited copiously over the rim of the toilet, and when he emerged, pallor sickly, he caught his reflection in the mirror. A white-faced young man on his knees, gasping, tears spilling down his cheeks. He stood, shakily, and made for the bedroom again. His vision blurred, and he collapsed thankfully onto the bed as his eyes closed.
Ludovic’s eyes snapped open. He felt… different. Curious, he climbed out of bed and made his way across the room. He was almost at the door when it hit him. The waves of painful hunger, crashing into his stomach and bending his body double. He had only felt this once before. And he remembered the consequence. He struggled with himself, tried to keep it in… it stabbed at his abdomen and he collapsed, his fight ended. When he rose it was as if Ludovic Caesar had left his body. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were now dark pits of fire drinking in every last drop of life in the room. His entire face seemed to be in shadow, and his lips were curled in a terrifying smile. His head was slightly bowed, his form even more graceful than before. He was silent as he left the room.
He was Ludovic Caesar.
And he was famished.
His hearing, so much keener than before, caught the light, tuneful sound of Irene’s humming as she prepared dinner. Irene. His smile widened. Soundless as a ghost, footsteps soft as whispers, he walked into the room. She stood at the hob, adding some mixed herbs to a bubbling vat of pasta, unaware of her fiancé watching her as she worked, darkening the doorway like the angel of death. Ludovic cleared his throat; Irene looked up and froze. Her eyes widened in fear. The sauce-covered spoon she was holding slipped between her fingers and fell; it hit the tiled floor with a loud clatter. She stepped back a few paces, hands raised. “Ludovic,” she whispered. Ludovic’s smile widened even more, the evil grin twisting his lips. He advanced toward her without speaking a word. Irene stumbled back, tried to run, but she tripped, fell- Ludovic caught her before her body struck the cold, stone floor. He roughly yanked her to her feet, then swept them out from underneath her as he dragged her to the lounge. He pinned her to the carpet, lips drawing back from teeth as a ravenous snarl escaped him. He leant in, breathing in the sweet smell of human flesh. Then he struck.
His inhumanly strong jaw closed around her throat, and as he tore at her skin, there were only Irene’s screams of agony and the horrible sound of flesh separating from bone. She writhed only a little; the light left her eyes before Ludovic could devour the last of the meat from her throat. Ludovic no longer cared whether she lived or died; all that existed was the flesh, the delicious flesh, and the bright blood spreading steadily outward from her destroyed throat. His animal moans of pleasure were terrifying; this was Ludovic Caesar, the respected young man, the able doctor, the source of mystery in the town. Kneeling on a stained carpet, devouring the last of his loved ones.
When- at last- he was finished with her corpse, he left her few remains lying on the carpet. He stumbled, less gracefully, to the door. Then the nausea, the dizziness struck him about the head; he almost collapsed in the corridor, but he forced himself to his bedroom. He flew across the floor, to the bed, to sleep-
He dropped like a stone to the carpet.
When Ludovic rose, his stomach was full of dread. Something horrendous has happened. He pushed himself into a sitting position, testing his stability. He was sick to his stomach with nerves. He knew what was coming. Helping himself up with the bedstead, he froze at the sight of his hands. Coated in crimson liquid. Now trembling like a leaf, he started to gasp, heaving-
He flung himself into the bathroom, retching, eyes squeezed shut out of fear of what he might see. When eventually he braved his terror, he regretted it. In the full-length mirror stood a monster. Arms gloved in bright blood to the elbows; white T-shirt and black trousers spattered with a similar liquid. But the real horror was the face of this gore-covered creature; the mouth and chin were smeared with Irene’s blood. Ludovic’s eyes widened in incredulity. His stained mouth opened in a wail of horror; he held his scarlet hands out in front of him and succumbed to his fate. How long he stood there against the wall he didn’t know, but when he looked up he knew what he would have to face next.
He was shivering so hard that if he didn’t force himself to the lounge, he would collapse. It was just around the corner, now. She was. He edged his way around it and his tall, slender form filled the doorway. Ludovic froze. Terror, horror and self-disgust showed on his face. He stood, terrified and blood-stained, for several seconds. He staggered forward a few steps before falling to his knees at Irene’s side. He could not cry; his grief went further than tears. He just made a horrible, strangled choking sound and hid his face in his hands. Eventually, he raised his closed eyes to the ceiling. They flew open and Ludovic screamed, a raw, gurgling cry of anguish that nobody could hear. He continued screaming for minutes, hours, years, decades. He screwed his eyes shut again, and a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and trickled sideways into his hair. His agony was so painful, so destroying, that even the stoniest heart would have been crushed if it had witnessed Ludovic’s suffering. Ludovic stumbled to his feet; he ran for the bathroom. He hung over the toilet for a few minutes, but when he didn’t bring anything up, he stood, trembling, before the mirror. A sudden wave of anger overtook him and he lashed out at the looking-glass with one crimson hand; it smashed into countless fragments that sprung apart on separation. Ludovic caught the reflection of his wailing, blood-smeared face in one of the shards as it fell. He reached out and snatched it from the air. He stowed it in the pocket of his black jeans, unaware that he was keeping a fragment of his misery with him forever.
He looked to the ceiling, and his unspoken vow was made, like the promise he had given Irene once upon a time. He would never touch a human being again. For Irene. Ludovic Caesar walked calmly to the bathroom door, but once he had passed through the doorway he ran, fury building in his soul. He reached the front door and, with superhuman strength, wrenched the locked door open. He stared out into the blackness, confused by the beauty that could be this hellish world. He took a step forward, out of the house. Then he took several more. Then he ran, ran along the grassy path towards the gate. He paused and looked back into the hallway. He turned his face to the sky. “For Irene!” he cried, raising his arms. Then it began to rain. Not depressing, icy rain to grey the sky, but a cool, cleansing rain to wash away the nightmare of the last few hours. Ludovic closed his eyes and let the rain wash the blood from his face and arms. He let the rain fall for a little more time, but when his eyes opened it stopped abruptly, leaving the ground untouched, no puddles made. He seized the lock on the gate and it gave within his clasp. He strode out, arms raised, to the trees at the edge of the street. The forest. Ludovic spun, face filled with regret, yet also hope that he could find solace once more. He carried on spinning, only stopping at the very edge of the forest, where he let his arms drop to his sides and ran into the waiting night.
Ludovic Caesar raised his face from the neck of the doe in his arms. He surveyed his surroundings, sure he had heard a disturbance beyond the usual forest noises, but the clearing he knelt in was silent and full of prospect. He relaxed, releasing the doe to the blood-stained earth. Nothing more superior than a deer had touched his lips since he had devoured Irene six months earlier. The forest had become his home, and the fact that people often came here did not bother him, for Ludovic would simply hide. He knew how to hide.
He winced as the last clumps of meat slipped down his throat. Why did he content himself with such fare, when he could dine on finer flesh? Ludovic dug in his jeans pocket and retrieved the shard of mirror taken from his past residence. He saw his reflection’s features tauten in determination. This fragment kept him sane; at least, kept him from attacking unsuspecting humans. It reminded him of Irene, of what had become of her because he had given in to brief inhumanity. It still seized him occasionally, but he no longer blindly killed. After Irene, there would be no more deaths. Little did he know that, even as he sank into the usual unexpected sleep, that when he woke he would not be inclined to stick to this new regime.
Ludovic’s body stilled. His ears pricked, like an animal’s. He scrambled, strangely elegant even as he stumbled to the wall that he flattened himself against. Behind this building, where the pale moonlight could not spill over his long, lean body and reveal his shadow, he listened with his enhanced ears for signs of life… he heard soft snoring from the window above his head. Two people sleeping a few metres from him. Ludovic’s mouth filled with saliva and he wanted. But no, he told himself, he must bide his time, bear his hunger until easier prey wandered foolishly into his path. There he stood, hardly breathing, until he heard footsteps and a voice. A shadow fell across his path and he sank slowly into a crouch. A teenage girl strolled across the street, barely glancing to the side before crossing with superior arrogance, as if no car would ever dare run her over. A mobile phone was clasped to her ear, and she chattered brightly as she wobbled towards the handsome, haggard young man watching her greedily from the shadows. Ludovic’s hearing was so keen that he could hear the girl on the opposite end of the phone, “Oh, Shell-ee! Of course not!”
‘Shelly’ tossed her blonde ponytail over her shoulder as she said, “Ok, Darcy, if that’s how it is… I’ll let you off. Toodles, Darling!” If Ludovic’s cannibalistic form was patient, he would have waited for less idiotic prey. But, beggars could not be choosers, and his hunger was excruciating. He heard babbling from Shelly’s mobile. She laughed, and nearly tripped in her stilettos. Her slim, white throat was visible from under her turtleneck jumper, and Ludovic’s stomach roared in famine. He waited until Shelly had ended the call. He knew his time when it came, and he pounced.
He lunged out into the street; Shelly turned just in time to see him and shrieked. Ludovic clasped one hand to her mouth, sufficiently stifling her scream of terror, the other arm bundling her up. Half carrying, half dragging her, he began to run, heart banging so hard in his chest that he wondered why it hadn’t burst from his abdomen. Shelly writhed and screeched against his palm; Ludovic bared his teeth in a snarl. Shelly turned chalk white and fainted in his arms.
It was only as he reached the edge of the forest that she started to come to. Ludovic hurried further into its depths, trying to hold the hunger until he could feed. Shelly was fully responsive by the time they reached the clearing. She saw the crumpled, ravaged body of the doe Ludovic had fed from earlier and started struggling harder, gagging. As they reached the ring of trees, Ludovic dropped her to the leaf-strewn slope; she rolled down it and collapsed in a heap in the clearing, coughing. Shelly stumbled to her feet at her last chance of life, but Ludovic’s strong, lean body collided with hers and took her to the ground. He pinned her to the blood-soaked ground, snarling. He ripped the neck off her designer jumper, tearing the cloth with superhuman strength, revealing her slim, lily-white throat… he howled in delight and bent his head to his meal. Keeping his hand clasped to Shelly’s mouth, he tore at her flesh with his teeth. When, at last, the breath had left her body, he let it drop from her mouth. Once there had been a girl of seventeen lying there, now there was a pile of gore. When his stomach bulged, and he had devoured his fill, Ludovic stood, wiping the blood carelessly from his mouth, smearing his chin more. He walked away, satisfied. And then he slept.
When he woke he felt none of the horror Ludovic had felt when he had killed Irene, or his father. He had killed Shelly. So? Who cared if that made him a monster? If that was what he was, a monster, then that was what he was. He would not hide from himself. He would glorify in the bloodstains he left behind him. He would let himself be Ludovic Caesar.
He sprinted, thirsty to begin his work. He forgot that it was daytime. He forgot that he was haggard and covered in blood. He forgot that people would see him. He only knew that, as he flew across the forest floor, somebody was going to die. He neared the town, a manic grin curving his lips. As he stumbled into the warm spring sunlight, onto his old street, he heard the sound of rattling, a key turning in a lock. Leo Pepper. Leo always rattled his jingly keychain whenever he left the house. And a woman’s voice, chatting away happily. Yes, Ludovic thought. He has Brenda with him.
Leo and Brenda were newlywed young adults who were obsessed with each other. They had tried to befriend Ludovic once, but he had always been anti-social and preferred his own company, and did not value their friendship, but did not discard it. They had been in awe of him, and often boasted, as they did when they had something desirable, of their acquaintance. Now they would regret the respect they showed him.
He slowed his pace as he neared them. Brenda and Leo did not notice him at first; they were caught up in some titbit of gossip. But wait. Was that Irene’s name? He listened avidly as he drew nearer. “… so horrible, wasn’t it?” Brenda was saying to Leo. “So young, and to them of all people… they were such a beautiful couple. And we knew them so well…” You barely knew my name, Ludovic thought. I will enjoy seeing your blood flow. “They found her body, ripped apart, in the lounge, didn’t they?” Leo enquired. “Strange, seemed to have been attacked by something… and no sign of Ludovic, he must have been kidnapped or something…”
Ludovic’s blood was starting to boil. These two idiotic people were making him relive the past, making him feel self-disgust he had not felt for six months. And he didn’t like it. Now was the time to silence them forever.
“I killed her, you know,” Ludovic began. The two spun around. Brenda screamed at the sight of him picking his way across the road, ragged and blood-stained. “I ripped her throat out, and devoured the flesh. I lapped up the blood.” Brenda and Leo were backing away, screaming. “You! You’re dead!” Howled Leo. “You killed her? Your own fiancée?” Brenda shrieked. A smile curved Ludovic’s mouth. “She was delicious. As you will be.” he said.
The couple screamed. “Cannibal! Cannibal!” “Get away!”
He smiled again, and when he spoke, his voice was sweet, yet laced with venom. “Which of you will be the first to go?” he said mockingly to Leo. “You or your darling girl?”
Leo leapt in front of Brenda. “Neither!” he bawled ridiculously. “Brenda, phone the asylum! Restrain the lunatic! In God’s name, do anything!”
Lunatic smiled. “Know your place,” he said to Brenda as he wrenched Leo’s head to one side and snapped his neck. She screamed and dropped to her knees. “Leo!” she screeched, head in hands. Two seconds later she was slumped beside her husband.
Footsteps and raised voices sounded in the next street. “Who’s screaming?” “What’s wrong?” “Is that Brenda Pepper?”
Ludovic scooped their unresponsive bodies up over his shoulders. He couldn’t stop laughing as he disappeared into the trees.
I think, Ludovic pondered as he scraped the last of the meat off Leo’s corpse, that I prefer my dinner when it is still alive. It was a day later, and since he had taken the Peppers he had been in fits of glee at his success. He would be cleverer next time, for had he been five seconds slower he would be in a disgusting asylum. He, Ludovic Caesar, would not be confined. He could wait a few days, for he didn’t want to be too hasty. He had been a fool yesterday, taking two in broad daylight. He would operate in darkness from now on.
He had not touched a woodland animal in two days, and now, now he had sampled flesh so fine, he could not swallow such filth. He would not. Whenever he was peckish he would dine off his own kind in ease.
Over the next five days, he snuck to the town at night and took humans to his clearing where nobody could hear their screams. He was clever, and though now the number of murders he had committed was so great that people were protecting themselves against him, Ludovic could take their lives still. It was one gloomy Wednesday that he let his guard slip. He was pleased, reassured that he was uncovered, and decided to risk daytime activity. He would reward himself heavily for his troubles, and would dine like a king, he decided.
So that day he made his familiar path to the edge of the forest, and slipped unnoticed into the town. Few people left their homes due to Ludovic’s grisly night-time routine, and the few that did were cautious. He waited in the alleyway where he had stolen Shelly a week ago. Soon, a group of teenagers came stuttering along, obviously drunk. Easy prey. He had killed two and had one pinned to a wall by her throat, about to tear her apart when they came. He heard someone say from behind him, “Dear God…” Ludovic spun, snarling. A group of men and women, dressed in uniform, armed with syringes and climbing out of a marked van. The asylum for the criminally insane. He roared, and released the girl he was strangling, who fell to her knees, choking. He lunged for the people, who were advancing towards him wearily, and was surprised at their agility when they dodged.
Snarling like a rabid animal, cursing like a fiend when his lunges did not connect, Ludovic resisted capture for several minutes. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the one girl who had escaped his wrath being led off by a kindly-looking woman who was soothing her. He darted to the side and snatched the teenager from her as the woman stared in surprise. He bit down into her flesh and tore out her throat. The woman retched, and the men behind Ludovic advanced towards him, cursing. One sank a full syringe into the vein in his neck, but Ludovic battered it away irritably. His hands found the woman’s throat and began to strangle the life out of her. The men cried out, and tried to sedate him with more syringes filled with a pale green serum, but Ludovic knocked them from their hands and sent them spiralling to the ground where they smashed, puddles of serum forming. When Ludovic tired, he ended it and snapped the woman’s neck. As she slumped to the ground, Ludovic spun to face the other two. He speared himself on a syringe by mistake, and ripped it from his arm just in time. He leapt for the man wielding it, and gripped him by the throat as he forced him against the wall. As he was choked slowly to death, the man raised his shaking arm and tore open Ludovic’s vein, filling it with serum. As Ludovic tried to bat the syringe from his neck, his eyes rolled and he was gone before he hit the floor.
When he came to, he was in the van and it was moving. He glimpsed the men who had captured him and tried to seize them, but found himself rooted to the spot, on a strange push-trolley. He roared with anger, and discovered the mask fitted taut against his face. He wore a white straightjacket, his arms crossed over his stomach, hands trapped behind his back. He was completely restrained.
As he roared again in his fury at being outsmarted, the man he had throttled turned and rammed yet another ghastly syringe into his flesh. Ludovic struggled against his bonds, but was powerless as the man pressed the plunger and silenced him once more.
Ludovic was free of his restraints when he revived himself. Leaping to his feet, thirsting for blood, he ran towards the glass wall… and haltered. What was he doing? Why was he in an insane asylum, punished for spilt blood, when he should be at home, enjoying another quiet evening with Irene? What had made him go so far? He had no answer for himself. He collapsed, eyes brimming. He wept then, in the corner of his cell, wept as he had wept for his father, wept as he could not weep for Irene. Wept for Shelly, for the people he had mindlessly slain without knowing so much as their names. He cried until no more tears could spill, and the world was suddenly a living hell. He stood, shakily, and forced himself to his cramped little bed, to sleep. And when the nightmares came, so did his screams, and the woman with the syringe who left him lying unconscious.
Countless days passed, and each day Ludovic sank deeper and deeper into depression. He spoke little, slept little, ate little. He gave up on life, huddling in his corner, waiting for the silent wings of Death. When he did speak, it was to Irene. Hour after hour, he would talk to her about anything that crossed his mind. He was considered less dangerous now his desire to slaughter was gone, but was treated with more caution than ever. He did not care. Irene didn’t care. She never answered him, but Ludovic was content to talk even so. He was in deeper mourning than ever, but when he talked to Irene he was almost happy.
But then he would think deeper, into the past, to the night when he had killed his father. It was after he had worked himself into a violent rage and had not been able to supress his hunger. At nineteen, he had been unreachable in his grief. Until Irene.
He had met her at university, aged twenty, only just able to face work after his father’s demise, and she was in the same course as him. After their second year she left, but she and Ludovic kept in touch, fell in love, and one day he put a ring on her finger and she pledged her life to him.
But now she was gone. Ludovic was suddenly overcome. He rocked on his heels, staring at the floor even though his mind’s eye saw Irene. The tears dripped down his nose and spattered his bare feet.
He spent the rest of the day and all the next standing there.
He couldn’t take it much longer. He cracked completely. Whispered conversation was made about his mental state. The woman who brought him meals was scared. She knew of his popular clinic as Ludovic had treated her young daughter, saving her life. Now that handsome, composed young doctor sat day after day huddled on the floor, staring into space. Irene haunted him day and night, turned his sleep into torture, ruined him body and soul.
One day, Ludovic was standing in his cell, thinking about Irene. As if he thought about anything else. He had just woken from sleep he had never meant to come with tears trickling down his cheeks. Ludovic was sick of life at this point. He longed for Irene so badly, but if he took his own life what would happen? Would she still love him? How could she, when he had devoured her with no love in his own eyes?
He wept again, only roused by the woman, Agatha, pushing his breakfast through the hatch. He realised his hunger and ate ravenously. Agatha stared cautiously at him. He had ignored his past meals. When Ludovic had finished the last dregs of his tomato and basil soup, he thrust the bowl back through the hatch. “More,” he croaked, voice hungry. Agatha stared. “More!” he yelled, pounding the floor.
Agatha rushed through to the room where the owners of the asylum were, “Ludovic Caesar wants more food, Sir Clinton.” She said. He stood up. “Well,” Morgana Birchwood said, “I think that’s wonderful! Let him have more! Oh, this is perfect, if he does not wish to die any longer, he must be regaining his sanity!”
“Or,” Sir Brompton said, “has wisened up to us,”
The room thought about this. “I still think that this is a vast improvement,” Miss Birchwood argued. “Me too, Morgana, but just remember this; he was cannibalistic, and may still be. He will never be released upon the world. He may have more food, but will never have another chance at the rest of his life.”
Another bowl of soup was brought to Ludovic, and he devoured it greedily. He had lots of weight to regain. He was going to live, be released, and he would go to Irene when his time came. He would swallow his instincts, and become an honourable member of humanity.
A month passed, and Ludovic was back to his old self. One night, when Agatha brought him his chicken con carne, he said to her, “Agatha, I believe I am ready to leave.” She said nothing, as if she was not there to witness the elders’ conversation.
“I no longer have the urge to eat people now, and though I mourn the lives I ended, especially that of my fiancée, Irene, I believe I could start a new life for myself.”
Agatha was tactful as she said, “And the nightmares, Ludovic? Do you no longer have them?”
“No.” he was surprised at the lie; it had taken several people to restrain him last night… “Well, Mr Caesar, I am afraid that you still have them. Brandon, Lolita and Jason had a hard time sedating you yesterday.” Ludovic swallowed.
“And as for you being released… I’m sorry, but this is out of the question.” Ludovic’s face changed. The shadow crossed his face, giving him that inhuman glare he had not worn for three months.
“Why not? Tell me!” he slammed his hand against the glass. Agatha shifted from one foot to the other. “Ludovic, surely you know that to release you is madness?” Ludovic froze. “You ate people! It is not safe to let you free! You will never leave here!”
She saw the look on his face. “Ludovic, I’m sorry…” It was no use. Ludovic walked over to his bed in a daze and collapsed, face in hands. Agatha tried to plead with him for several minutes, then left, knowing she would pay for crushing him like that.
In his cell, Ludovic was in turmoil. How could he spend the rest of his days in here? How could he stay here, confined within a cage, without her, without Irene? He would rather die than survive several more decades alone. Rather die…
Ludovic slipped his hand into his pocket for the one thing he was allowed to keep. He removed it, letting the fragment of mirror catch the light as he tilted it. He considered it, and then looked to the ceiling. He had not seen a sky for countless days.
Lowering his head to the glass, Ludovic saw his features cloud in determination. He thought of Irene, her sweet face, her light eyes, her joyful smile-
He brought the single fragment of mirror to his throat and flicked his wrist.
And Ludovic Caesar fell, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, dropped like a stone to the floor as he had the night he killed Irene. He hit the floor with a thump, throat slit open, the shard of blood-spattered mirror still clasped in his fingers, his face a look of childlike wonder that he would never wear again.

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10 Comments on 'In the Mirror – The Story of Ludovic Caesar'

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  • Commented on May 23, 2016 at 11:14 am

    Beautifully structured story. Your writing style is so graceful, and I never wanted to stop reading from the moment I started! :’D I do have to agree with EnZanity though, the fact he was allowed to keep that piece of glass irked me, but aside from that; detailed, original and interesting! Thank you for the read ^^

  • Commented on May 22, 2016 at 2:13 am

    Nice creepypasta, but why would they allow him to keep the glass shard? What kind of asylum allows a patient to hold a weapon? If he wanted a mirror they could have hung one away from his reach so he could not hurt himself. I really liked this story, do not get me wrong, but that ending is questionable

  • Commented on May 23, 2016 at 7:46 pm

    Hey, nice creepypasta you made there. Keep up the good work. 🙂

  • Commented on June 4, 2016 at 4:09 am

    Story has a very nice flow, nice amount of detail and development. Making a reader feel compassion for a cannibalistic monster takes skill. It bugged me he still had the glass shard, but it might have bugged me more if he spent the rest of his life confined, depressed, and terrorized by his own actions. Awesome story

  • Mim
    Commented on June 21, 2016 at 3:46 pm

    Thanks for all the positive comments, it means a lot to me! Just so you know, I rewrote and added in some parts and self-published it as a short story. With the glass bit explained!

    @Daemon, I understand what you’re saying, as I was indeed a child when this was written. If you want something more maturely handled, you are welcome to read the published ‘update’. When I copied and pasted the paragraphing was screwed up, sorry if that bothered you.

  • Commented on June 3, 2016 at 2:53 pm

    I really loved reviewing this one and I’m proud of these ratings. The character reminded me a lot of Cicero from Skyrim for some reason XD.

  • Commented on September 18, 2016 at 1:26 pm

    Mim, I was reviewing your latest Pasta, and I have to say something, it was fucking brilliant, short, but the writing is something that I envy, and it takes the crazy girlfriend thing to a whole new level. I give you immense props. Also, would you like to read my pasta? Just wondering, but I just can’t wait until yours is open to the public, wow!

  • Commented on June 3, 2016 at 5:43 pm


    Dude u must be ridiculously near-sighted if such unnoticable errors that I didn’t catch jump out at u that much.


    U could definitely pass as a famous horror writer.

  • Commented on May 31, 2016 at 3:03 pm

    Perhaps they didn’t know he had the piece of mirror, and that’s how he had it at the end?

  • Commented on May 27, 2016 at 11:45 pm

    I really don’t understand how or why everyone is liking this story… You were all over the place in your writing style, I felt like the author is a child, just bumbling about with no structure. Alot of errors in spelling, redundant words. Your story has no purpose at all, no climax. It was like reading a really long jumbled paragraph. Speaking of paragraphs, there were none as well. Sure you have the indentations, but, actual spaces in between would of been preferable. Overall I found this story senseless and pointless with far too many errors. I am surprised I even forced myself to finish reading it.

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