Wait JUST ONE MINUTE!

Hola mi amigos!

Some of you in the 'Cyber Loop' might have heard I'm raising cash to go to CANNES this May!

My online campaign runs out later today, so here's my last petition to you good people of the interwebs - PLEASE HELP!

Part of what I'll be doing there (as part of a VERY prestigious internship) is filming some more of my Indie Minute Videos on movies SO new, no one else will have seen them yet!

What's 'Indie Minute?' you ask? Well - here's a little Sample!

INDIE MINUTE - Nicky's Family

Anyhoo - I just thought to mix things up a little this week, I'd show you some of my video stuff too - so - um - there! (yeah...)

Anyway, check back, subscribe to my vids and if you get the chance, I'd really appreciate a Buck or Two before my campaign runs out!

Thanks a million - I mean Thanks Six Thousand!

Lots of Loves -

Hillary J.

Fresh Flash Fiction - Rockslide

I wrote this 'shawty' in class today. Technically, it's NOT flash fiction. It's a personal essay in 250 words or less :) Enjoy!




She was ‘big-boned.’

That’s how we said it in the 80’s when we wanted to be kind – before ‘thick’ came into vogue.

But she was one of my two best friends. We sang Annie medleys on the benches between class. And Jacob called her fat.

Jacob called her a pig. Jacob called her a cow.

She was 5 feet tall in fourth grade and yes, a little hefty with breasts already swelling where most of us still looked like boys.

And Jacob made mooing sounds while she belted ‘Tomorrow’ during snack recess.

So one damp day after an autumn drizzle, I challenged him to climb to the top of the rockslide on the Southwest hill. It wasn’t off limits, but teachers rarely watched because children rarely played there. And this wasn’t just any game.

Like Giselle I lit to the top.

“Come on. You’re not gonna let a girl beat you, are you?” I gleefully taunted.

He didn’t study ballet five nights a week. He couldn’t dribble like me on the soccer field. He didn’t hike hills daily with Melissa Tucker's Boy Scout brother. And he didn’t make it to the top of the rockslide.

Each time he failed, I repeated my successful ascent and taunted him more – until the bell rang, and in defeat, he went back to class where the teacher sent him home to change out of soggy, muddy clothes.

He didn’t call her “fat” – or speak another word to either of us - ever again.