Like I stated before, that he was writing a book while he was taking time in jail.....guess what? Finally it's out.
http://www.deatharoundthecorner.com/
DEATH AROUND THE CORNER
A Novel By C-Murder
“If I cry, his blood will be my tears.”
The next day, Daquan awoke with a throbbing headache, and he couldn’t unknot his stomach. Even the smell of Grandma Mama’s gumbo didn’t give him an appetite for anything other than blood.
He showered and dressed quickly, then tip toed out the door, because he didn’t want to see Grandma Mama’s face, knowing what he had in his heart. Daquan went straight over to Nut’s and found him sitting on the front stoop, smoking a cigarette. They nodded a silent greeting, then Daquan picked up Nut’s Camels and lit one up.
“How we gonna do this?” Nut asked solemnly, like there was no question it was getting done.
Daquan blew a stream of smoke out, and replied, “Get us a fiend’s car, you know, grab them thangs and lay on the n***uh till we can creep ’im.”
Nut looked over at him. “You know where he stay?”
Daquan shook his head, “But we know where he be. Trust me, he won’t be too hard to find.”
Nut nodded in agreement and thunked his cigarette to the pavement. He got up and went in the crib, then returned a few minutes later, shirt bulging with the print of two gats, a nine and a .38. He handed Daquan the nine, which he tucked in his jean shorts.
“Let’s go see if we can get Ol’ School car.” Daquan suggested.
It didn’t take much convincing to get the old rusty Oldsmobile from the dope fiend called Ol’ School, especially after Nut offered him a hundred dollars for the whole day. Ol’ School had heard about how Black had openly disrespected Nut and Quan and his big cousin Jerome. By the look on their face and the bulge in their waist, he knew what they intended to do. He hated to see boys so young get caught up in the game that had drug him down, but he knew he was powerless to stop them, so he just told them, “Ya’ll watch yo’self, ya heah?”
Daquan got behind the wheel and started the fifteen-year-old engine—older than he was himself—then slammed the rusty door with a loud squeak.
For the rest of the day, they stalked Black from spot to spot. They first noticed him getting lunch from Mama’s kitchen. They kept their distance, never losing sight of him. The later it grew, the more anxious they became, and all Daquan could think of was what he had told his sister Diana, “If I cry, his blood will be my tears.” Daquan was living for the moment those words came true.
Black moved through his day, totally oblivious to who or what was in his midst. He knew Jerome was heavy, but Black felt safe because Jerome and the go hard n***uhs that rode with him were behind bars. In his mind, if Jerome had to send little n***uhs to get his paper, then he definitely didn’t have anything to worry about.
He didn’t know how wrong he was.
As the evening moved on, Daquan and Nut had followed Black to liquor stores, to gambling spots, to the Magnolia and back to Black’s dope spot; but each time, there was always a gang of people around. They finally caught a break when Black pulled up on Apple Street and blew the horn. It was dark by now, but Daquan could see the person coming out was a female. She sauntered over to Black’s Caddy, got in, then they pulled off. Nut cocked his gun and hissed, “I don’t give a f**k where he goin’. This time I’m smokin’ him.”
“I’m wit’ you. whody,” Daquan assured him.
They followed Black to the Rosham Red Motel and allowed him to get a room and go inside. Once he was in, they pulled close to the rear of the hotel and got out, looking around.
“So what, we just knock on the do’? What if she answer?” Nut asked, puffing on a cigarette.
“Naw Nut, we gonna make the n***uh come out to us to get it,” Daquan smirked.
“How?”
Daquan looked around the parking lot, until he saw a nice softball-sized piece of concrete, then went and retrieved it. “With this.”
Nut looked at him with confusion.
“One of us gotta be in the car, while the other one bust his car window then slide up under it. As soon as he come out, pull off so he’ll think the n***uhs got scared or somehin’. Then blast his ass, ya hear me?” Daquan explained, already knowing he’d be the one under the car.
“You drive,” Nut replied, gripping the gat like the grudge that was in his heart.
“Muhf**ka, you drive better than me,” Daquan lied. He wanted to pull the trigger as bad as Nut. “And if shit get hot, I’ma need you behind the wheel.”
Nut thought about it momentarily, but shook it off. “Man f**k that. I wanna burn his ass!”
Daquan sighed hard. “Nut, just drive the f**kin’ car, aiight? I got this. I’ma handle it for both of us. Plus, you fatter than me, you might can’t even fit under theah.”
“Man, I…”
Daquan cut him off firmly. “Nut, we wastin’ time. Damn, n***uh gonna be done finished.” he huffed and walked away.
Nut paused for a moment, then went and got the car. Daquan crept up behind the Caddy and pulled out his nine. When Nut backed up behind him, he cocked back the rock, took a deep breath, and smashed the driver’s side window completely; making Black’s alarm go crazy. He quickly dropped and rolled under the car, feeling the heat of the transmission on his face.
“What the f**k?! Hey!” Black came out, shouting, as Nut skidded off around the building. Black was clad only in boxers, hard dick poking a tent in the material.
The sound of his own breathing was heavy in Daquan’s ears, and it felt like his heartbeat was beating in the fingers that he had poised on the trigger.
“Punk muhf**kas!”
“Baby, what happened??”
“Take yo’ ass inside!” Black demanded.
Daquan could hear Black’s bare feet hitting the pavement, coming closer and closer, until his toes were directly beside Daquan’s shoulder. Daquan closed his eyes for a second, then reopened them as he slid his torso from under the car, raised the gun, and fired twice into Black’s stomach as he leaned in the window to see if anything had been taken.
The girl, wrapped in a dingy white sheet, was only a few feet from Black when the shots cracked the silence, and she let out a piercing scream, seeing Black stagger back. Daquan came out from under the car and fired again, hitting Black in the chest, when he noticed Black had a revolver in his hand, one he never got to use.
As Black fell back on the concrete, Daquan stood over him and hissed, “Charge this to the game, n***uh,” then fired twice into Black’s skull, opening it up like a cracked egg.
The girl was frozen in horror, but her scream had brought a few people to the windows of rooms. Daquan didn’t think twice, but he regretted all three shots he pumped into her head, from almost point-blank range. By the time her body hit the ground, he had dashed into the safety of the darkness and jumped into the car with Nut.
For more information, visit www.deatharoundthecorner.com.
- allhiphop.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES
People always ask me what made me want to become an author. First of all I was behind bars facing a life sentence so I didn’t know what the future held. But I knew one thing: I had to get on my grind. I had to get my hustle on. Plus I like to express myself and put my words out there. Since I couldn’t do it in music, I said let me do it with a book. I had been doing a lot of studying and reading a lot of books. A lot of people don’t know I was an honor student in school. I read about 500 books since I’ve been locked up. So I felt like it was time for me to get started, to become an author.
The first thing I did was I started reading a lot. Sometimes I read a book in one day. So I started getting real interested in everything about books. And I just started feeling the flow and how different authors express themselves in a book. I learned a lot by just hands-on experience. Whatever I’m doing, I learn quick. So that was the first process, just reading and getting interested.
Then I’m like All right, let me just try writing. But I’m my biggest critic. So then I said, I need some info on this. I need a book that can teach you how to write a book and write a novel, and all about publishing. I wanna know everything about the game, ya heard me? So I got all that information through the library. So then I’m sitting down, reading it all and getting the game in my head. One of my favorite authors, Dean Koontz, even wrote a book on how to write a novel. His was crucial cause I liked how he put his words. But I still wanted the urban crowd. So it’s me mixed with Koontz—that’s how I feel. And that’s how it all started.
Writing Death Around The Corner from prison took me two years. I wrote everything out by hand in notebooks and then mailed them out to be typed up on a computer. It could have been done before that, but sometimes there’s so much happening on the tier and so much going on in your case and your personal life that you just have to chill. And then Katrina hit—the storm. I sent out a lot of chapters that were lost when all the mail got shut down. So once we came back from Katrina, and the mail started rolling, I called and said, Look for the mail! And the Post office said Call this number and go on this website, cause it’s all just sitting in crates out in the sun. So four months later I got all them chapters back. Then I just finished the last of the chapters right then and there. And that was it.
I chose the title Death Around The Corner because every day I was locked up I kept hearing about people getting killed—young dudes. Three murders one day, four murders, five murders. There was just a lot of brothers getting killed. So I said it looks like everybody has to watch their back. It’s serious out there. Death is so close—right around the corner. Everybody can relate to it, from my hood to your hood. Anywhere. So that was the theme of the whole book.
Daquan starts out how we all start out—innocent. Just a little boy happy for the little things in life: going to school, playing in the grass, having fun on the see-saws at the park. Then at five years old, he has his first sight of tragedy, and it all goes downhill from there. This is a story for all those people that society gives up on. There’s millions and millions of Daquans out there. You can just drive through the hood to see a snotty nose with a Pamper, no parents at home, no parks to play in, abandoned. There’s millions and millions of Daquans in the wiorld. Not just black, but white and everything else, South America, Asia, Africa.
Once you read the book you will understand where I’m coming from. It’s just the life of a young black man growing up in the hood with the odds against him. So anybody can get it. Death is always right around the corner. And with all my books that I write, I’m gonna make sure they have a crucial, crucial twist that nobody would think about. Cause I be thinkin’ about some other things sometimes. You’ll just have to keep reading to learn more about that.
And if you love this book, get ready for Tru Publishing cause we got a lot more heat coming for ya. So peep game.
Peace
http://www.deatharoundthecorner.com/
DEATH AROUND THE CORNER
A Novel By C-Murder
“If I cry, his blood will be my tears.”
The next day, Daquan awoke with a throbbing headache, and he couldn’t unknot his stomach. Even the smell of Grandma Mama’s gumbo didn’t give him an appetite for anything other than blood.
He showered and dressed quickly, then tip toed out the door, because he didn’t want to see Grandma Mama’s face, knowing what he had in his heart. Daquan went straight over to Nut’s and found him sitting on the front stoop, smoking a cigarette. They nodded a silent greeting, then Daquan picked up Nut’s Camels and lit one up.
“How we gonna do this?” Nut asked solemnly, like there was no question it was getting done.
Daquan blew a stream of smoke out, and replied, “Get us a fiend’s car, you know, grab them thangs and lay on the n***uh till we can creep ’im.”
Nut looked over at him. “You know where he stay?”
Daquan shook his head, “But we know where he be. Trust me, he won’t be too hard to find.”
Nut nodded in agreement and thunked his cigarette to the pavement. He got up and went in the crib, then returned a few minutes later, shirt bulging with the print of two gats, a nine and a .38. He handed Daquan the nine, which he tucked in his jean shorts.
“Let’s go see if we can get Ol’ School car.” Daquan suggested.
It didn’t take much convincing to get the old rusty Oldsmobile from the dope fiend called Ol’ School, especially after Nut offered him a hundred dollars for the whole day. Ol’ School had heard about how Black had openly disrespected Nut and Quan and his big cousin Jerome. By the look on their face and the bulge in their waist, he knew what they intended to do. He hated to see boys so young get caught up in the game that had drug him down, but he knew he was powerless to stop them, so he just told them, “Ya’ll watch yo’self, ya heah?”
Daquan got behind the wheel and started the fifteen-year-old engine—older than he was himself—then slammed the rusty door with a loud squeak.
For the rest of the day, they stalked Black from spot to spot. They first noticed him getting lunch from Mama’s kitchen. They kept their distance, never losing sight of him. The later it grew, the more anxious they became, and all Daquan could think of was what he had told his sister Diana, “If I cry, his blood will be my tears.” Daquan was living for the moment those words came true.
Black moved through his day, totally oblivious to who or what was in his midst. He knew Jerome was heavy, but Black felt safe because Jerome and the go hard n***uhs that rode with him were behind bars. In his mind, if Jerome had to send little n***uhs to get his paper, then he definitely didn’t have anything to worry about.
He didn’t know how wrong he was.
As the evening moved on, Daquan and Nut had followed Black to liquor stores, to gambling spots, to the Magnolia and back to Black’s dope spot; but each time, there was always a gang of people around. They finally caught a break when Black pulled up on Apple Street and blew the horn. It was dark by now, but Daquan could see the person coming out was a female. She sauntered over to Black’s Caddy, got in, then they pulled off. Nut cocked his gun and hissed, “I don’t give a f**k where he goin’. This time I’m smokin’ him.”
“I’m wit’ you. whody,” Daquan assured him.
They followed Black to the Rosham Red Motel and allowed him to get a room and go inside. Once he was in, they pulled close to the rear of the hotel and got out, looking around.
“So what, we just knock on the do’? What if she answer?” Nut asked, puffing on a cigarette.
“Naw Nut, we gonna make the n***uh come out to us to get it,” Daquan smirked.
“How?”
Daquan looked around the parking lot, until he saw a nice softball-sized piece of concrete, then went and retrieved it. “With this.”
Nut looked at him with confusion.
“One of us gotta be in the car, while the other one bust his car window then slide up under it. As soon as he come out, pull off so he’ll think the n***uhs got scared or somehin’. Then blast his ass, ya hear me?” Daquan explained, already knowing he’d be the one under the car.
“You drive,” Nut replied, gripping the gat like the grudge that was in his heart.
“Muhf**ka, you drive better than me,” Daquan lied. He wanted to pull the trigger as bad as Nut. “And if shit get hot, I’ma need you behind the wheel.”
Nut thought about it momentarily, but shook it off. “Man f**k that. I wanna burn his ass!”
Daquan sighed hard. “Nut, just drive the f**kin’ car, aiight? I got this. I’ma handle it for both of us. Plus, you fatter than me, you might can’t even fit under theah.”
“Man, I…”
Daquan cut him off firmly. “Nut, we wastin’ time. Damn, n***uh gonna be done finished.” he huffed and walked away.
Nut paused for a moment, then went and got the car. Daquan crept up behind the Caddy and pulled out his nine. When Nut backed up behind him, he cocked back the rock, took a deep breath, and smashed the driver’s side window completely; making Black’s alarm go crazy. He quickly dropped and rolled under the car, feeling the heat of the transmission on his face.
“What the f**k?! Hey!” Black came out, shouting, as Nut skidded off around the building. Black was clad only in boxers, hard dick poking a tent in the material.
The sound of his own breathing was heavy in Daquan’s ears, and it felt like his heartbeat was beating in the fingers that he had poised on the trigger.
“Punk muhf**kas!”
“Baby, what happened??”
“Take yo’ ass inside!” Black demanded.
Daquan could hear Black’s bare feet hitting the pavement, coming closer and closer, until his toes were directly beside Daquan’s shoulder. Daquan closed his eyes for a second, then reopened them as he slid his torso from under the car, raised the gun, and fired twice into Black’s stomach as he leaned in the window to see if anything had been taken.
The girl, wrapped in a dingy white sheet, was only a few feet from Black when the shots cracked the silence, and she let out a piercing scream, seeing Black stagger back. Daquan came out from under the car and fired again, hitting Black in the chest, when he noticed Black had a revolver in his hand, one he never got to use.
As Black fell back on the concrete, Daquan stood over him and hissed, “Charge this to the game, n***uh,” then fired twice into Black’s skull, opening it up like a cracked egg.
The girl was frozen in horror, but her scream had brought a few people to the windows of rooms. Daquan didn’t think twice, but he regretted all three shots he pumped into her head, from almost point-blank range. By the time her body hit the ground, he had dashed into the safety of the darkness and jumped into the car with Nut.
For more information, visit www.deatharoundthecorner.com.
- allhiphop.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES
People always ask me what made me want to become an author. First of all I was behind bars facing a life sentence so I didn’t know what the future held. But I knew one thing: I had to get on my grind. I had to get my hustle on. Plus I like to express myself and put my words out there. Since I couldn’t do it in music, I said let me do it with a book. I had been doing a lot of studying and reading a lot of books. A lot of people don’t know I was an honor student in school. I read about 500 books since I’ve been locked up. So I felt like it was time for me to get started, to become an author.
The first thing I did was I started reading a lot. Sometimes I read a book in one day. So I started getting real interested in everything about books. And I just started feeling the flow and how different authors express themselves in a book. I learned a lot by just hands-on experience. Whatever I’m doing, I learn quick. So that was the first process, just reading and getting interested.
Then I’m like All right, let me just try writing. But I’m my biggest critic. So then I said, I need some info on this. I need a book that can teach you how to write a book and write a novel, and all about publishing. I wanna know everything about the game, ya heard me? So I got all that information through the library. So then I’m sitting down, reading it all and getting the game in my head. One of my favorite authors, Dean Koontz, even wrote a book on how to write a novel. His was crucial cause I liked how he put his words. But I still wanted the urban crowd. So it’s me mixed with Koontz—that’s how I feel. And that’s how it all started.
Writing Death Around The Corner from prison took me two years. I wrote everything out by hand in notebooks and then mailed them out to be typed up on a computer. It could have been done before that, but sometimes there’s so much happening on the tier and so much going on in your case and your personal life that you just have to chill. And then Katrina hit—the storm. I sent out a lot of chapters that were lost when all the mail got shut down. So once we came back from Katrina, and the mail started rolling, I called and said, Look for the mail! And the Post office said Call this number and go on this website, cause it’s all just sitting in crates out in the sun. So four months later I got all them chapters back. Then I just finished the last of the chapters right then and there. And that was it.
I chose the title Death Around The Corner because every day I was locked up I kept hearing about people getting killed—young dudes. Three murders one day, four murders, five murders. There was just a lot of brothers getting killed. So I said it looks like everybody has to watch their back. It’s serious out there. Death is so close—right around the corner. Everybody can relate to it, from my hood to your hood. Anywhere. So that was the theme of the whole book.
Daquan starts out how we all start out—innocent. Just a little boy happy for the little things in life: going to school, playing in the grass, having fun on the see-saws at the park. Then at five years old, he has his first sight of tragedy, and it all goes downhill from there. This is a story for all those people that society gives up on. There’s millions and millions of Daquans out there. You can just drive through the hood to see a snotty nose with a Pamper, no parents at home, no parks to play in, abandoned. There’s millions and millions of Daquans in the wiorld. Not just black, but white and everything else, South America, Asia, Africa.
Once you read the book you will understand where I’m coming from. It’s just the life of a young black man growing up in the hood with the odds against him. So anybody can get it. Death is always right around the corner. And with all my books that I write, I’m gonna make sure they have a crucial, crucial twist that nobody would think about. Cause I be thinkin’ about some other things sometimes. You’ll just have to keep reading to learn more about that.
And if you love this book, get ready for Tru Publishing cause we got a lot more heat coming for ya. So peep game.
Peace
