The 300

Stories at 300 words length


Quite Frisky One Morning

As soon as our eyes met I knew what Love was. He was already standing on the street, five doors down, leaning on a lamppost when I turned the corner.

Awa the Noo

Dear John,

CM Keir

...she squeezed her head closer to the pane, trying to tell if she could see her visitor. But nothing. Nothing and noone to be discerned in the raging black.

First Place

I had to wipe a baby’s bum the first time today. It was my first baby too. My first girlfriend gave birth to this beautiful boy. First time we’d made love had done it too.

The Island

Old gold and brown trout shout and slumber in the village burn beneath the lumber of the infrequent frantic and inarticulate lorries and vans the farmers barge by on the bridge above.

The Island


I begin to tidy. And where does one begin to tidy first?


Ah, did I say, “son”? – ‘The…Arkwrights’…son’?

Poor Joe

Drab Joe’s tumult began each day at four past six in the morning with a walk of Rocker to the beat of his heels and the pace of the bird-song.


A man fell over, in the park, behind the bus station. A woman screamed and the sound set off a flock of pigeons that flew in ever decreasing circles...