D. A. Ratliff
Bio
A Southerner with saltwater in her veins, Deborah lives in the Florida sun and writes murder mysteries. She is published in several anthologies and her first novel, Crescent City Lies, is scheduled for release in 2024.
Stories (73/0)
Never the Same
Never the Same D. R. Ratliff Content warning: Violence, implied rape I stared at the rocking chair on the porch and wondered if things would ever be the same again. I used to love to come here on holidays when Granny and Grandpa were alive. My brothers and I played football on the lush lawn, waiting for Thanksgiving dinner or outside, showing off our new toys at Christmas. But we’d grown up and had families of our own, and our father and grandparents died years ago and our mother four months ago. No one had been here in a long time—until today.
By D. A. Ratliff9 months ago in Fiction
- Top Story - August 2023
The Veil Top Story - August 2023
The Veil D. A. Ratliff The droning hum from the car’s tires rolling across the asphalt soothed her nerves rather than inflamed them. Sage Ryan had made it as far as Redding, and in one more hour, she would be in the Northern California mountains. He couldn’t find her there—she hoped.
By D. A. Ratliff10 months ago in Fiction
The Chocolate Chip Cookie Caper
The Chocolate Chip Cookie Caper D. A. Ratliff As tales go, this one will not likely remain a memory for anyone other than me and my friends, my dog Charlie and the vet, my sister, our parents, the neighbors, and the police and fire department of Timber Lane, LA. It all started innocently enough, but then it all went wrong.
By D. A. Ratliff11 months ago in Fiction
The Influencer
The Influencer D. A. Ratliff A Detective Elijah Boone Mystery The Mini-Cooper scooted to a halt in front of the two-story Victorian house in the heart of the Garden District. Vivian McCrea gripped the steering wheel and repeated her daily mantra upon arriving. “You got this. You got this. You got this.”
By D. A. Ratliff11 months ago in Fiction
The Fountain
The Fountain D. A. Ratliff I slipped into the abandoned garden, wary of every sound drifting out of the darkness. I breathed in humid air saturated with the aroma of decayed vegetation and the sickly-sweet scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. Closing the rusted wrought iron gate behind me, I walked down the stone path.
By D. A. Ratliff11 months ago in Fiction
Of Dogs and Brides and Hurricanes
Of Dogs and Brides and Hurricanes D. A. Ratliff As a child, this soggy alcove under the mangroves where the sea crept in at high tide had been my favorite hiding place. My younger brother Lucas and I spent hours playing hide and go-seek, and he never found my private hideout. I hoped he didn’t find me today.
By D. A. Ratliff11 months ago in Fiction
The Heist of His Century
The Heist of His Century D. A. Ratliff It proved all too easy. Not that the planning was easy. Oh no, that took months of meticulous preparation to reach this moment. Granted, it took longer than it should have, but recovering from being beaten by a drug-crazed lunatic husband cost me some time.
By D. A. Ratliff12 months ago in Fiction
Old Bill
Old Bill D. A. Ratliff Johnny Tiger slowly paddled his canoe through the thick cypress trees, relishing the solitude. Solitude if he didn’t count the chatter of egrets and herons disturbed by his presence. He didn’t want to do what he agreed to do, but Miami-Dade Animal Control wanted Old Bill found, and they paid well for his services.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Fields of Gold
Fields of Gold D. A. Ratliff Spoleto was over. Seventeen days of the festival and months and months of planning prior to the event had taken their toll. My body ached as if it was a piston that, after pounding furiously for eons, had broken, leaving limbs unable to function. That’s exhaustion.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction