Back
The Black Ghost of Normandy ◯
scifi

The Black Ghost of Normandy

by XXL boligrafo

Book 1 of THe Black Ghost of Normandy

74,941 words · 300 min read

"To prove a ghost was real, a ruined reporter has to become as unfindable as the man he's hunting, before the machine that erased a soldier erases him too."

Enjoyed this? Tip the author — it goes straight to them.

$5.24 of this purchase (87.5%) goes directly to XXL boligrafo.

About this book

Jonathan Reyes was a journalist once, before a single unverified story ended his career and left him grinding out clickbait for pennies a word. Then a forgotten blog hands him a name: James Monroe Davis, a Black counter-sniper of the segregated 366th Infantry, a man who could vanish in an open field and clear enemy positions no one else could reach, a man the U.S. government swears never existed. The deeper Jonathan digs, through a dying veteran's stories, a widow's single blurred photograph, an enemy marksman's diary, and a service number issued in 1943 that is somehow still active in 2026, the more he suspects the impossible: that Davis was real, that he was erased on purpose, and that he may still be out there, old beyond reckoning, still doing the work, still leaving no trace but a single cut leaf on the bodies he leaves behind. But every question Jonathan asks puts another witness in danger, and he isn't the only one pulling the thread, a British intelligence officer an ocean away has found the money that funds a ghost. The Black Ghost of Normandy is a literary thriller about memory and erasure, about a country's genius for un-seeing the people it uses, and about the unbearable space between a truth you know and a truth you can prove.
Content warnings
  • · Graphic violence
  • · Strong language / profanity
Trailer
Sample · opening pages
Free — no signup required
The headline they gave Jonathan Reyes to write was 12 Forgotten Black Heroes Who Deserve a Movie (#7 Will Shock You), and he'd been staring at the number seven for the better part of an hour because he could not decide who deserved to shock people that morning. This was the work now, and it was not journalism. It was content, a word that had been beaten so flat it could hold anything you poured into it, which was precisely the point. He wrote to a template every time: a hook, a list, an affiliate link, and a sidebar of ads that quietly tracked wherever his cursor drifted. The pay came by the thousand words, and the words didn't have to be true so much as clickable, which he'd learned the hard way were sometimes opposites, right around the time the alimony started. He had owned a name once. Not a big one, a regional one, the kind that earned a nod at the right bar and a seat on a panel nobody watched. Then he'd run a story he hadn't nailed down, built on a source who wept on cue and documents he'd wanted too badly to be real, and the correction had run longer than the piece itself. In this business a retraction was a death you were made to attend over and over, at your own desk, for the rest of your life. So: number seven. He already had eleven. Bass Reeves, because everyone did Bass Reeves. Cathay Williams, who'd enlisted as a man. Robert Smalls, who had stolen a Confederate steamer, sailed it out to the Union blockade, and later gone to Congress, which was a better third act than most films managed. Real people, all of them, astonishing and under-filmed, and he could have filled a hundred slots without repeating himself. There had been a version of Jonathan, years gone now, who would have found that fact moving rather than merely useful. For number seven he went looking for something stranger, something with a little myth on it, because the algorithm loved myth. Myth made people argue in the comments, and arguing was engagement, and engagement was the only god the mill still worshipped. He typed Black soldier legend WWII into the search bar and let himself sink.
About the author
XXL boligrafo
XXL boligrafo
@writingzombie

"I'm an avid reader building a platform we can all actually enjoy. A place made for the way people really read and write, not the way platforms usually force them to. Right now I'm eighteen feet deep in Part II of the Chronicles of Bass Reeves, and not planning to come up for air anytime soon. My work lives where history meets the impossible: I take the real texture of the past, the dust, the law, the men who carried both and thread it through fantasy and thriller sequences until you're not

Reader reviews

No reviews yet. Readers who own this book can be the first.