Dear Author, My mother looked at my eyes in the mirror – one last time in a lifetime of never meeting my gaze, never letting me look directly at her face. The snakes of her hair hung limply, unmoving. She had removed her veil for this last visit, but lay turned away. “You’re not a Gorgon, my boy. Not even half. But when I die – beware. Power doesn’t disappear, it changes and moves. Be careful.” Five years ago, and I thought by now I was safe. I thought it had passed me by. Until today when the two men I care for invited me home for the night. Until I kissed them and warm flesh turned to stone under my lips. What have I done? What am I? And how the hell can I fix this? This story was written as a part of the M/M Romance Group's "Love is Always Write" event. Group members were asked to write a story prompt inspired by a photo of their choice. Authors of the group selected a photo and prompt that spoke to them and wrote a short story. Read the story here or find it in Love Is Always Write: Volume 1.