The Ghost Lake's Rule: No Smiths, No Exceptions - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
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I work as a ferry operator at a tourist destination, specializing in taking visitors to the small island in the center of the Lake Lanier.
Before every trip, I make my routine announcement: "Is there anyone on board with the surname Smith? Anyone with the surname Smith cannot board this boat. If your last name is Smith, please get off now!"
The tourists don't really understand my routine question, but they don't seem to mind either.
That is, until today, when one visitor complained: "What kind of bullshit rule is that? Why can't people named Smith get on the boat? That's straight-up discrimination!"
He has no idea…
If anyone with the surname Smith is on this boat, everyone aboard today will DIE.
My face darkened as I walked up to the guy who'd spoken. "Let me see your ID."
The speaker was a young man with a cocky look about him—the kind of face that screamed trouble.
Seeing I was just some girl, his attitude got even more obnoxious. "You're just some boat driver. What gives you the right to see my ID?"
"It's routine screening. Just checking if your last name is Smith." My expression remained stone-cold as I held out my hand.
Yet the guy's attitude got even nastier. "What kind of backwards rule is this? Why can't people named Smith get on the boat? I'm gonna post this on TikTok and expose you guys."
Other clueless passengers started chiming in too: "Yeah, we all bought tickets to get to the island. Why won't you sell tickets to people named Smith?"
I ignored them all, staring straight at the guy. "ID. Hand it over."
The guy whipped out his phone and started recording. "Everyone check this out! This tourist spot discriminates against people named Smith—they won't let anyone with that last name on the boat!"
He thought filming me would intimidate me?
But I wasn't budging an inch.
Marcus, who worked the boat with me, saw things getting heated and tried to step in.
"Sir, please stop recording. This rule really can't be changed... You're just gonna mess things up for future tourists."
The guy wasn't buying it and shouted back: "You're threatening to shut down the attraction? I don't believe for a second you'd close such a money-maker!"
Seeing the guy was being completely unreasonable, a middle-aged man at the back of the boat spoke up: "Kid, you better believe it. You can look this stuff up online. I'm local—been to Blossom Isle several times. Way back, the island wasn't even open to tourists. When they finally opened it, they had just this one requirement: no one with the surname Smith could board. Before, when Smith-surnamed tourists got refused and posted videos online, internet users got pissed and came here to cause trouble. The attraction just straight-up closed Blossom Isle. It was only reopened later because tourists kept demanding it."
"Yeah, when I was planning my trip, I saw posts about this whole thing. It's just that Blossom Isle is so incredibly beautiful—like something out of a fairy tale—that people don't mind this weird rule."
A young woman backed up what the middle-aged man said, and everyone nodded, showing they knew about this situation.
Seeing everyone's reaction, the guy realized his video threat was useless and awkwardly put his phone away.
But his attitude was still just as obnoxious: "What a ridiculous rule. What, does someone named Smith own this place? Can't even get on a boat?"
I extended my hand further, my tone still ice-cold. "ID."
"Didn't you already check when I bought my ticket? My name's not Smith, for crying out loud! Just drive the damn boat already and stop wasting my time."
"No ID, no boat ride."
"You're really pushing it now, aren't you!" The guy shot up, looking like he was about to hit me.
Marcus quickly blocked him. "Sir, please calm down. She's the only person who can operate the boat to Blossom Isle. If she says no boat ride, then nobody gets a boat ride. Just chill out and show her your ID, okay?"
The people around us started agreeing: "It's just an ID check—takes two seconds. Don't mess up our island trip."
"Exactly..."
Seeing the situation, the guy angrily pulled out his ID and shoved it in my face. "Here!"
I took the ID and verified it.
The guy's name was Dex Callahan—not surnamed Smith, and the photo matched his face.
I handed the ID back to him and walked to the bow.
"We're departing."
Before every trip, I make my routine announcement: "Is there anyone on board with the surname Smith? Anyone with the surname Smith cannot board this boat. If your last name is Smith, please get off now!"
The tourists don't really understand my routine question, but they don't seem to mind either.
That is, until today, when one visitor complained: "What kind of bullshit rule is that? Why can't people named Smith get on the boat? That's straight-up discrimination!"
He has no idea…
If anyone with the surname Smith is on this boat, everyone aboard today will DIE.
My face darkened as I walked up to the guy who'd spoken. "Let me see your ID."
The speaker was a young man with a cocky look about him—the kind of face that screamed trouble.
Seeing I was just some girl, his attitude got even more obnoxious. "You're just some boat driver. What gives you the right to see my ID?"
"It's routine screening. Just checking if your last name is Smith." My expression remained stone-cold as I held out my hand.
Yet the guy's attitude got even nastier. "What kind of backwards rule is this? Why can't people named Smith get on the boat? I'm gonna post this on TikTok and expose you guys."
Other clueless passengers started chiming in too: "Yeah, we all bought tickets to get to the island. Why won't you sell tickets to people named Smith?"
I ignored them all, staring straight at the guy. "ID. Hand it over."
The guy whipped out his phone and started recording. "Everyone check this out! This tourist spot discriminates against people named Smith—they won't let anyone with that last name on the boat!"
He thought filming me would intimidate me?
But I wasn't budging an inch.
Marcus, who worked the boat with me, saw things getting heated and tried to step in.
"Sir, please stop recording. This rule really can't be changed... You're just gonna mess things up for future tourists."
The guy wasn't buying it and shouted back: "You're threatening to shut down the attraction? I don't believe for a second you'd close such a money-maker!"
Seeing the guy was being completely unreasonable, a middle-aged man at the back of the boat spoke up: "Kid, you better believe it. You can look this stuff up online. I'm local—been to Blossom Isle several times. Way back, the island wasn't even open to tourists. When they finally opened it, they had just this one requirement: no one with the surname Smith could board. Before, when Smith-surnamed tourists got refused and posted videos online, internet users got pissed and came here to cause trouble. The attraction just straight-up closed Blossom Isle. It was only reopened later because tourists kept demanding it."
"Yeah, when I was planning my trip, I saw posts about this whole thing. It's just that Blossom Isle is so incredibly beautiful—like something out of a fairy tale—that people don't mind this weird rule."
A young woman backed up what the middle-aged man said, and everyone nodded, showing they knew about this situation.
Seeing everyone's reaction, the guy realized his video threat was useless and awkwardly put his phone away.
But his attitude was still just as obnoxious: "What a ridiculous rule. What, does someone named Smith own this place? Can't even get on a boat?"
I extended my hand further, my tone still ice-cold. "ID."
"Didn't you already check when I bought my ticket? My name's not Smith, for crying out loud! Just drive the damn boat already and stop wasting my time."
"No ID, no boat ride."
"You're really pushing it now, aren't you!" The guy shot up, looking like he was about to hit me.
Marcus quickly blocked him. "Sir, please calm down. She's the only person who can operate the boat to Blossom Isle. If she says no boat ride, then nobody gets a boat ride. Just chill out and show her your ID, okay?"
The people around us started agreeing: "It's just an ID check—takes two seconds. Don't mess up our island trip."
"Exactly..."
Seeing the situation, the guy angrily pulled out his ID and shoved it in my face. "Here!"
I took the ID and verified it.
The guy's name was Dex Callahan—not surnamed Smith, and the photo matched his face.
I handed the ID back to him and walked to the bow.
"We're departing."
End of The Ghost Lake's Rule: No Smiths, No Exceptions Chapter 1. Continue reading Chapter 2 or return to The Ghost Lake's Rule: No Smiths, No Exceptions book page.