Lakeshore Park, Lake Blvd at Parkshore Dr, Newark, CA 94560
I grew up not that far from here but didn’t know about this park till recently. It’s a pretty lagoon area with a fair amount of water fowl (geese, duck), a variety of trees (including some in the water), islands, and a flat asphalt path along the water’s edge.
The amenities are limited to a parking lot and a few benches. The path has very little shade and a whole lot of bird shit. Watch where you walk.
Dogs are allowed but must be on a leash. No swimming. I saw people fishing here the two times I’ve come here. The surrounding homes are quite nice. The area feels safe as the path is a popular walking spot. The path is 1.79 miles and takes about 30 minutes depending on how fast you walk.
4 out of 5 stars
By Lolia S.
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the warren
price x reader | 895 words
had the overwhelming urge to write creepy!price. this is the result. not closely edited, apologies.
CW: blood (mentioned), hunting (mentioned/implied), theft, stalking
Bare footprints, neat impressions set into the loam ringing the lake. They veered left to the woods, to the direction of the climb leading to meadows.
Where'd you run now?
The signs of her trail are near invisible in the night - disturbed foliage and snapped twigs - but not to him. Crouching at the edge where the prints disappear into the underbrush, he sees dark droplets of blood, wet, painting leaf and root. He wipes one off of a stone, brings it to his mouth, and runs the pad of his finger over his gums and tongue. Salt and metal, the very things she tried to use to keep him out, keep him away.
The very things he had developed a taste for.
John admires her spirit, even with his plan to snuff out that independence. Her frenzied escape only heightened his anticipation for when he'd catch her.
Run, rabbit, run.
~~ Three months earlier ~~
John knew the day he spied her trespassing at the hutch that her hands were clean. Soft and unsullied. Not a speck of dirt under her fingernails. Polite and easy with her apologies, lips parting to show a pink tongue and good teeth.
She saw the cat, followed it over the unmarked property line, and then spotted the colony in its enclosure.
"You like animals?"
"Yes, who doesn't?"
"Come see the kittens, then."
She trailed after him, around the side of the shophouse and back to the business side. He held his tongue when she observed none of the lots on the road bracketing the bay were fenced.
Fences were unnecessary this far out. Everything, everyone, knew their place. Knew where they were not allowed to tread without invitation. Everyone except her, apparently.
A newcomer to this neck of the woods.
She crouched, peered into the plastic, straw-filled tub on the porch, and watched the week-old creatures half-blindly search for their mother. The heat lamp was a functional substitute while the queen was out filling her belly.
"So, this is your shop?" She brushed herself off when she stood, eyeing the store's interior through the front windows.
"Mhm."
"Are you closed?"
"For lunch, as of five minutes ago."
"Oh."
He sighed. "But I can delay my meal. C'mon."
"Thank you, I promise I won't take long."
~~
She takes ten minutes. John leans against the back counter, steel thermos down to the dregs of the morning's coffee. The basket in the crook of her arm carries a week's worth of canned and dry goods. She presents it with a small smile and digs into a pocket for her cardholder.
He rings her up, poking through the haul. In addition to the sundry of foodstuff, there are basic toiletries, insect repellent, a lighter, and a pack of twelve-hour candles. She adds a pair of cheap red sunglasses from the revolving display. They do not make it into the final total.
"Can I ask what brings an Englishman here?" She asks after handing over a wad of cash, setting her wallet down to take the tag off of the sunglasses.
Like clockwork. Always the same question with every new face.
"Retirement," He cards through the bills and makes change. "And you? Visiting?"
"I'm renting for the summer."
He smirks and closes the cash drawer. Holding out what she's owed over a manicured hand, he tilts his head slightly. "Would that be the old Warren place? Or the Lakeshore Arms?" He drops the money.
A few coins slip through the cracks of her fingers, clattering sharply against the formica, some ricocheting to the floor at her sandaled feet.
"Limited housing supply here, least longer term," John explains, making no move to assist other than lazily pushing a quarter back across the counter.
She scrambles to collect the scattered tender, resurfacing from the other side of the counter with a sheepish look beneath her brow, clearly flustered. "The Warren place."
"Hm. Need a bag?"
"No, thanks," She says, smiling tight when she pulls two canvas bags from the sling over her chest. She drops the items into each bag inelegantly. Cans settle atop the loaf of white bread, and the bug spray slots snugly next to the toothpaste.
Never bagged her own groceries before, I'll bet.
She grabs her wallet. "Are there…any other stores nearby?"
"Next place is two towns over. About an hour and a ten-minute drive, forty-five minutes if you speed," John leans back, arms crossing. I assure you, though, the store's got everything you need right here. And if it doesn't…All you need to do is ask."
It's heavy-handed. He knows. But it's better to plant the seed now and let it take root.
"I'll keep that in mind," She sets the sunglasses atop her head and turns to leave, only to spot the short stack of bagged deer corn near the door. One hand on the door, she takes a closer look. "Aw, I didn't know you could feed the deer like this."
His mouth slowly curls. "It's bait, sweetheart."
The instant drop in her expression sends a wicked thrill down his spine.
When she leaves, he watches her hurry down the road through the glass. He flips the sign on the door again: Out to lunch.
John fishes her ID card out of his pocket, murmurs her name, and looks back at her retreating form. She'll come looking for it.
You're a long way from home, rabbit.
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i just had an idea. yknow how at some national parks and whatnot they have little signs telling you to stay hydrated and stuff? and they sometimes have the park's mascot on them? firestar park mascot
Oh that WOULD be super cute, who would the mascot be? Graystripe, the first Clan cat they encountered? Firestar, one of the most popular? A WindClan cat, one of the easiest to observe?
They probably have various phrases, maybe even feature different cats;
Firestar has a sign on the lakeshore telling you how to recognize illegal fox snares, and to report them to a certain number if you see them
A RiverClan cat, maybe Duckfur or Sedgecreek, have an infographic on the launch dock about their rafts, and how you should give them a berth of at least 10 feet if you happen to see them.
Various signs warn about not feeding or interacting with the wildlife, explaining how it's bad for them and how they aren't friendly like domestic cats.
After the debacle with the sitka plantation getting flooded, there's warning signs about it now being an off-limits swamp area, instructing you to follow the trail or risk falling in mud.
There should be a little nature center nearby that sells the official WC minis as souvenirs, like the merch at a good zoo's giftshop.
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