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 the winter of 2025.
Achievements (1)
Stories (102)
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Belong To the Night
Belong to the Night D. A. Ratliff Restlessness evokes strange feelings in a person. There is a nagging little itch one is never able to scratch. An uneasiness as though something sinister lurked around the corner. Light from the city coming to life at night crept into the loft, casting shadows on the walls, as if the darkness was searching for me. That itch and unease had irritated me all day, and my fight-or-flight response triggered as I felt the night close in. I had to get out of the loft.
By D. A. Ratliff5 months ago in Fiction
A Choice. Top Story - July 2025.
The Choice D. A. Ratliff What do you write on a blank page? Let’s face it, words mean something. Isolated words provide little meaning. They must intertwine to impart thoughts, hopes, wisdom, and sometimes convey emotions, ranging from the darkest pain to the highest joy.
By D. A. Ratliff6 months ago in Fiction
The Importance of Wildflowers
The Importance of Wildflowers D. A. Ratliff As I awakened, consciousness slowly returned, yet I lingered in a dream as it drifted away. I had no trouble remembering the dream, which had been the same since childhood. I stood on a narrow wooden bridge, flat land covered with scrub brush extending as far as I could see, and wildflowers scattered everywhere.
By D. A. Ratliff9 months ago in Fiction
The Plank. Top Story - April 2025.
The Plank D. A. Ratliff A Detective Elijah Boone Mystery The resounding thud of the car door slamming in the dead of night satisfied him. He leaned against the front right fender, lit a cigarette, and waited. It was five minutes until midnight, and he was about to come into a lot of money. He blew out a smoke ring and watched it float toward the streetlight, which cast a brighter light than he liked for such meetings. He wasn’t too worried. Lakeshore Drive was so deserted at night that not even the cops drove through. The location offered what he needed—privacy.
By D. A. Ratliff9 months ago in Fiction
The Assignment. Top Story - February 2025.
The Assignment D. A. Ratliff I woke up in Paris, not knowing if this would be the best or worst day of my life. Dawn lit the city sky outside the hotel room where I had spent the last three days posing as a wealthy vineyard heiress from Reims. There was a plot to kidnap the young heiress, Lucie Boudoin, and I had taken her place as bait. For my first assignment, being bait was stressful, but I had to admit it was a bit of an adrenaline rush.
By D. A. Ratliff11 months ago in Fiction
A Waft of Memories. Runner-Up in A Taste of Home Challenge.
A Waft of Memories D. A. Ratliff A waft of ginger greeted me as I entered my neighborhood bakery. A batch of freshly baked ginger cookies sat on the counter, waiting to be placed in the case. The spicy aroma lured me inside, and I ordered a dozen cookies before they left the baking tray. After making my purchases, I returned to my car and grabbed a cookie out of the bag.
By D. A. Ratliff11 months ago in Feast
The Drip. Top Story - February 2025.
The Drip D. A. Ratliff As the new experimental medicine flowed into me, I wondered if it would be enough or too much. My doctors were optimistic, but I had gotten to know them better than I ever wanted to and learned they were kind, compassionate, and prone to optimism. I suppose they had to be positive in the face of failure, or they couldn’t go on, and their patients wouldn’t either. So, I lay here in this stark room, the love of my life sitting next to me, dressed in sterile clothing, because if I got an infection, I would surely die. So, I lie here, listening to the drip, drip, drip of chemicals flowing into my body. Those drips became a metronome, and music flowed through my soul.
By D. A. Ratliff11 months ago in Fiction
A Tale of Stamps
A Tale of Stamps D. A. Ratliff A Detective Elijah Boone Mystery The letters, stamped and postmarked and bearing no address, arrived in a large manila envelope addressed to me. Detective Elijah Boone, New Orleans Police Department. I stared at the letters where I had dropped them on the desk, wondering what unaddressed envelopes could mean.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Snowy Night
Snowy Night D. A. Ratliff I stood on the street corner, enjoying the falling snow and how it muffled the sounds of the city. I checked the time. It was eight pm, which gave me time to grab dinner before Uber arrived at nine to take me to LaGuardia. The red eye to Los Angeles took off at eleven-twenty, and I’d better be on it, or I’d be in trouble. My mother had commanded me to come home for the holidays. It had been five years since I had gone, so I guess it’s time.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
