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)
Filter by community
The Tree . Top Story - December 2024.
The Tree D. A. Ratliff The snow looked fresh and pristine, and I hoped this would be fun. I had my doubts. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get me to agree to trudge through the deep Colorado snow to find a Christmas tree.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Over the River
Over the River D. A. Ratliff Cameron and I belted out the old folk song, “Over the River and Through the Woods,” as we traveled to my parents’ house with Peaches, the Golden Retriever howling along. It was a good thing we were driving to North Carolina so no one could hear us as we weren’t the best singers.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Nana's Song
Nana’s Song D. A. Ratliff As I saw the thin ray of sunlight on the sofa, I heard an old song, “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying,” playing in my head. Overwhelming memories flooded my thoughts of a morning years ago when I walked into this room, the sun glinting on the crewel-embordered silk pillows and couch.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Thorn
Thorn D. A. Ratliff Marnie hesitated on the path, wondering if she was walking into an Agatha Christie novel. The quaintness of the cottage at the end of the flower-laden walkway was overwhelming. She sucked in a deep breath and, pulling her luggage behind her, continued to the doorway.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Something Wicked
Something Wicked D. A. Ratliff Something sinister happened here. Once home to nobility, the old manor hall had closed its doors to the world forty years ago and, forgotten by the surrounding community, faded into memory. Only a shadow of recognition as passersby barely registered the rusted iron gate. Then I found the diary in my dead uncle’s library, and I knew. Sinister lived there.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Pumpkinus. Top Story - November 2024.
Pumpkinus D. A. Ratliff Professor Rath gathered his students before the schoolhouse, his excitement as palpable as the apprehension he witnessed in their young eyes. His favorite event of the year was the night the children met the wizard of Halloween.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
Mr. Price’s Dinner Table
Mr. Price’s Dinner Table D. A. Ratliff As those of you who have followed me know, I am a Southerner and quite proud of my roots. Growing up in South Carolina, I was fortunate to have parents who saw no color differences in their fellow humans. People from all levels of society and cultures visited our home.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Writers
Game of Chance
Game of Chance D. A. Ratliff A Miles Murphy Noir Mystery I cruised north on the coastal highway, leaving the cesspool otherwise known as Los Angeles behind. I’d been looking for a reason to take my brand-new 1949 Ford Custom Deluxe for a spin. She was a beaut—navy blue with gray interior and a Flathead V-8 engine. I could keep up with the hot-rodders in this baby, which was helpful in my line of work. My job? I’m a private eye.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
A Quiet Stroll
A Quiet Stroll D. A. Ratliff I peeked out the lacy curtains covering the parlor window, watching Bishop Strong walk toward his waiting car. Good riddance. I didn’t think I could bear another minute with that stuffy, pompous man. I also didn’t think I could stand another moment with the hideous lacy curtains. I am a man of simplicity, and frilly things annoy me. I chuckled. Perhaps I am as pompous as the good bishop.
By D. A. Ratliffabout a year ago in Fiction
