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	<title>Two Hawks Quarterly &#187; Fiction</title>
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	<description>A Literary Uprising</description>
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		<title>Getting By</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2011/10/20/getting-by/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2011/10/20/getting-by/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 20 Oct 2011 01:38:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Current Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Los Angeles]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[breakup]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dan Coxon]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[photograph]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationship story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[wallet]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://twohawksquarterly.com/?p=4593</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Dan Coxon &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; For the first week the wallet sat next to the phone. David would eye it cautiously as he left for work each morning, as if he expected it to burst into flames, or come to life and flap clumsily across the room. All it did was slowly gather a thin film of dust. &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; When he&#8217;d seen it lying half-hidden beneath the grocery store&#8217;s magazine stand his first reaction had been to find someone to pass it to, a simple transfer of responsibility. As he&#8217;d stared vacantly at the bulging square of leather, though, he&#8217;d caught a glimpse of his reflection in the plastic sheen of the counter, and he&#8217;d balked. The last two years had been unkind to his waistline and his hairline alike. The checkout girl had turned her eyes away from him, her expression returning to a bored, blank slate, and he had little doubt that its contents would end up divided among her friends in a strip-lit back room. &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; It was only as he bent stiffly to pick it up, his back straining to complete this simple maneuver, that the realization hit him. He had seen this particular wallet before. It took [...]]]></description>
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		<title>The Wolf’s Story</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2011/10/20/the-wolf%e2%80%99s-story/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2011/10/20/the-wolf%e2%80%99s-story/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 20 Oct 2011 01:36:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Current Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch Literary Journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kacee Belcher]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Little Red Riding Hood]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[wolf]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://twohawksquarterly.com/?p=4613</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Kacee Belcher&#160; &#160; &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; After the wolf cub slipped from his mother into the den with his brothers and sisters, he hunched down in terror as he lay on the cold ground, his legs not yet working.&#160;His eyes, still closed, felt heavy with the placental fluid that had mixed with the dirt that surrounded the pups.&#160;The cub froze until he felt something rubbing against him hard enough to roll him over right into the wall of the den.&#160;The cub stayed against the wall as much as he could while his vision and hearing developed, only joining the other cubs and his mother when he needed to eat, about four times a day.&#160; &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; At six weeks old, the cub was able to walk and had full use of his senses.&#160;It was around this same time that his mother&#8217;s milk dried up, causing the young wolf to begin to explore outside the den.&#160;In order to eat, other members of the pack would regurgitate their food for the cubs.&#160;He had a hard time switching over from the milk to the semi-solid food.&#160;His brothers and sisters appeared to have no problem with the transition. &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; &#8220;Look at him!&#160;He&#8217;s gagging again,&#8221; one of his [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Hit and Stay</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2011/10/20/hit-and-stay/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2011/10/20/hit-and-stay/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 20 Oct 2011 01:36:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Current Issue]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[accident]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[adultery]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Los Angeles]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[beagle]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hit and Stay]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Los Angeles]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[marriage]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mathieu Cailler]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[winter]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://twohawksquarterly.com/?p=4681</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Mathieu Cailler &#160; &#160; &#160; &#160; &#160; &#160;Penn continued to drive through the night. Snow and gales of wind assailed his SUV as he barreled towards home, his foot steady on the gas, his mitts positioned firmly at ten and two. Heat billowed from the vents on the dashboard and moved loose strands of hair on his face. Penn didn&#8217;t want to replay the scenario &#8211; the quiet hotel room, the closed drapes, the underwear on the floor, the moaning, the taste of her lips &#8211; but the SUV&#8217;s quiet cabin was a hotbed for reflection. &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; His headlights brushed a green highway sign, indicating that there were eighty-nine miles left on his journey home. With the winter weather, it might take Penn three hours, but that was all right. How would he look at Kimberly after what he&#8217;d done? Don&#8217;t marry young, people had told him a few years ago when he&#8217;d passed around the idea of proposing. You haven&#8217;t tested the waters. Clich&#233; after clich&#233; came at him, and while the marriage advice was stale and up there with enjoy each day like it&#8217;s your last and don&#8217;t let anyone tell you something&#8217;s impossible, it wasn&#8217;t amiss. &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; [...]]]></description>
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		<item>
		<title>Saturday Nights in Seoul by Alexis Stratton</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/09/20/saturday-nights-in-seoul-by-alexis-stratton/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/09/20/saturday-nights-in-seoul-by-alexis-stratton/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Sep 2010 23:34:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fall]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Alexis Stratton]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch Literary Journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Los Angeles]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Literary Journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks Quarterly]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://twohawksquarterly.com/?p=4236</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8220;Do you have a boyfriend?&#8221; &#8220;It&#39;s okay,&#8221; I said, calming down their laughter. &#8220;No, no boyfriend.&#8221; &#8220;First love?&#8221; I turned to the chalkboard, glanced up at the ceiling, thinking of something to say. &#8220;Well, there was a boy I loved in college.&#8221; I sighed and spun back around to face them. &#8220;We were best friends, but one day, we had to say goodbye.&#8221; &#8220;Well, he was from another country. And he had to go back.&#8221; &#8220;So sad, teacher.&#8221; The girl who asked the question nodded as well, looked down at the paper on her desk. She was sitting at the bar, alone. I thought maybe she was an American&#8212;a Korean-American. Even at places like Casa Cabana, Koreans don&#39;t sit alone. &#8220;Hayden. Hayden Perry.&#8221; &#8220;It&#39;s a family name.&#8221; &#8220;My name is Minji,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Han Minji.&#8221; When Korean model and star Kim Ji-hoo came out in 2008, netizens flocked to his website and blog, denouncing him and harassing him. His agency refused to renew his contract; TV shows canceled appearances. The 23-year-old hanged himself in his home in Seoul in 2008&#8212;one of four Korean stars to commit suicide in one month. His suicide note said he was lonely and in a [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Granite by Zdravka Evtimova</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/06/04/granite-by-zdravka-evtimova/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/06/04/granite-by-zdravka-evtimova/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 04 Jun 2010 10:30:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Summer]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://twohawksquarterly.com/?p=3798</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Shon didn&#8217;t have enough money. All his friends had forgotten him. He couldn&#8217;t pay his sex tax and that meant that he could no longer be a man. He&#8217;d be processed into a stone, and he knew he&#8217;d be deaf and blind dust. Each particle of the dust he would turn into would be listening to her steps, Eya. How could he forget her? He&#8217;d been a stone several times for her. Her family would never agree to pay his sex tax. They didn&#8217;t want him around; they were heaps of brown stones around her and he had to climb and crawl to surmount them. He had to endure in order to reach her. They were endless hard sharp crags closing in on him, encircling Eya. When finally he managed to pay his tax her father told him she had been processed into sand or a heap of stones. Shon went looking for her. How could he be sure she was the gray rock jutting like a knife into the sky? He believed he&#8217;d know, he&#8217;d been dust, lowly powder without form of its own, and he&#8217;d been a rock, so he knew: a rock would recognize if another rock [...]]]></description>
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