Jim E.Beer
Bio
I was raised outside of Ancaster, Ont. I write about what I know and what I've survived. I'm not good at writing fiction, I hope I'm better at autobiography. I welcome constructive criticism, almost as much as compliments. So let's hear it!
Stories (16/0)
Through the woods
Saturday, September 28th, 1985... Walking home from town, drunk, late at night, was as common place for Mike VanSickle, as was hitch hiking into town to party with his friends in the first place. Usually he'd walk the distance along the main road and stick his thumb out to any car coming along. Unfortunately, at 3am. on a Saturday night, cars were few and far between. More often than not, he'd have to walk the seven miles on the dark unlit country road, until he reached foot sore and exhausted, at his parent's driveway. Tonight was different though, because the late summer humidity had condensed into a thick, impenetrable fog. Mike knew from experience that trying to thumb down a car in this kind of fog was practically impossible. The cars would blind him with their high beams and the drivers wouldn't even see him walking backwards along the shoulder with his thumb out until the last second. He'd almost been run down a few times and knew for a fact that he'd also scared the shit out of more than one late night driver, as he materialized out of the gloom, in their headlights at the foot of a hill. So tonight he'd decided to take the railroad tracks into town.
By Jim E.Beer20 days ago in Horror
Untitled
Prologue Saturday, September 28th, 1985... Walking home from town, drunk, late at night, was as common place for Mike Vansickle, as was hitch hiking into town to party with his friends in the first place. Usually he'd walk the distance along the main road and stick his thumb out to any car coming along. Unfortunately, at 3am. on a Saturday night, cars were few and far between. More often than not, he'd have to walk the seven miles on the dark unlit country road, until he reached foot sore and exhausted, at his parent's driveway. Tonight was different though, because the late summer humidity had condensed into a thick, impenetrable fog. Mike knew from experience that trying to thumb down a car in this kind of fog was practically impossible. The cars would blind him with their high beams and the drivers wouldn't even see him walking backwards along the shoulder with his thumb out until the last second. He'd almost been run down a few times and knew for a fact that he'd also scared the shit out of more than one late night driver, as he materialized out of the gloom, in their headlights at the foot of a hill. So tonight he'd decided to take the railroad tracks into town.
By Jim E.Beer27 days ago in Horror
Excerpt
I need to say firstly, that this is just an excerpt from something else I've been fooling around with. By no means is it a complete story. Secondly, it has very little to do with Jim's woods. Especially because this is fiction, where the stories of 'Jim's woods' are autobiographical in nature. I wanted to see what it looks like out here/there and also to see what kind of reaction I get, if any. Thanks for taking a look. James E.B.
By Jim E.Beer2 months ago in Horror
Frisbee off the roof!
Port Arthur, Thunder Bay, Ontario. Late October, 1987. 2nd Month, First Semester/First Year Forestry Technology. When I studied Forestry Technology, at Lakehead University, in Thunder Bay, I made a few friends. Mosty of our class was friendly with one another, there were only a handful of classmates that were quiet and kept to themselves.
By Jim E.Beer11 months ago in Confessions
Nam
Nam Summer of 1982, Jerseyville, Ontario. Prosser's Pond. My brother Jason and I, being the same age and all, had also been best friends from as far back as when we were only four years old. This meant too, that throughout school we shared the same friends and certainly the ones in Jerseyville, where we were ALL friends...for the most part. The core of Jerseyville friends was a solid one and there's nothing I STILL wouldn't do for ANY of my friends from the village... 'cept maybe one person. We did plenty of things, all of us together, but Jason and I also did things together as brothers. We fished together, hiked together, adventured together... We did a LOT of fishing together. Ever since we'd moved to Jerseyville from Burris street in Hamilton, we'd been steadily finding new places to try our luck. Our favorite 'go to', would have been 'Prosser's Pond'...'Prosser's Pond' was a Bass hole Deluxe. Full of Sunfish, Large mouth Bass and a handful of other fishy friends...the odd killer Catfish, a few Perch. The Bass in the pond were so greedy by midsummer, that Jason and I could pop a Dandelion head on our hook, flick it out 10ft and land a Largemouth almost every time...digging up a container of worms from the garden just made it silly. We had a riot, fishing at Prosser's, for many years. Prosser himself, was one John Prosser Robinson. A very old farmer who owned some fields in Jerseyville and brought produce down to Hamilton market. He grew lots of green beans, cucumbers, peas I think...He hired only girls from Jerseyville to work his fields . Just teenagers, "Stupid girls." He'd call them. Right to their face. I just remember some of these girls from the area, washing bushel after bushel full of green beans every summer evening, at the head of the tractor path back to the pond. They'd have metal tubs full of water, that they pumped from the hand well situated beside the low lying barn. Hand washing the sandy soil from the beans. That hand pump would pour with cold well water if you pumped it hard enough and long enough to flush the rust from it's pipes. One person would pump it, while the other leaned on the spout, drinking fresh, cold water directly from the flow.
By Jim E.Beer12 months ago in Confessions
Fishing
Jim’s Woods – Fishing. Fishing was a big part of my childhood. Not because I needed to catch fish for food. Not even because I liked catching them to eat them at all, but just because it was fun. It was fun and it gave me a reason to get outside and interact with nature. Even when we lived in the city, I took every opportunity to go fishing that arose, as few as those opportunities were.
By Jim E.Beer2 years ago in Wander
Up the tracks and back the tracks and SF's
Jim’s Woods – Up the tracks and back the tracks and SF’s. Since we now lived in the country, I'd prefer to just wander about, or sit and listen to all the different bird songs and calls. The ‘chirr’ from dozens of crickets all at once and far-off cows lowing. The haunting sound of a train whistle, miles away in the distance. I'd often wander down the tracks, inhaling the evening smells of fresh mown hay, distant cow manure and the spicy odors of wild herbs and wild flowers growing alongside the tracks in the ditch. It was dreamy, it felt like a dream...
By Jim E.Beer2 years ago in Wander
Disco Boy
Jim’s Woods Summer 1978 – Dunmark Park, Jerseyville/Alberton Area. Disco Boy. In case you hadn’t caught it in my last tale, I used to be into disco. I was ten years old and the movie 'Saturday Night Fever' had left a big impression on me. Huh? What? I'm not the only one? Phew, good okay, now I don't feel so embarrassed. Anyway, one day my Pop had come through Jerseyville to pick me up, so that we could spend time together. It always felt surreptitious to me, when my Pop would pull into our driveway with his Volkswagon van. I still love the sound of those engines, when you grow up with them, it is a very familiar and heart warming sound. My Pop, Randy, drove nothing but VW beetles or vans since I was little, until he moved to Thunder Bay, then he switched to a Lada, cuz they could handle the winters.
By Jim E.Beer2 years ago in Confessions
Hitch Hiking
Hitchhiking: Part 2. Summer 1983 From 2625 Jerseyville road west, to C.H. Bray elementary school, Ancaster On. Yes, by the following summer, hitch hiking along Jerseyville road, was well established by ‘me’ and myself alone. I never, ever, saw anyone else hitch hiking on the road. Saw a few people walking, or riding bikes though. One of the few people I’d often see walking along the road was Richard Klimowski. He was the guy that if you’d honk at him driving by, he’d stop walking, grin and point at you as you’d drive past. His finger following your car. Always made me laugh as a passenger...still does, just thinking about it! He romantically, brought my mother a hand picked bouquet of flowers one early summer’s eve...sweet, but he knew damn well my mother was married.
By Jim E.Beer2 years ago in Wander
