Hot Potato 2 ! Short Story Collaboration #3 -Shannon Pardoe

7 Apr

Hot Potato

Welcome to Hot Potato!

6 writers over 12 weeks, writing 1 short story

 The Potatoes: 

Steve Harris, Michael Schmidt, Shannon Pardoe, Samuel Grainger, Josh Kremer, Jessica Cooke


Today’s third fortnightly instalment, features writer Shannon Pardoe who is picking up the story where Michael left off.  You can find the first section of our short story here and the second section here if you missed it..


Winston watched in silent indignation as a dusty haze swept across the horizon bringing with it memories of long summer days and burning skies. Ever since the Event these memories had become his constant companion, playing out in his mind like the old movies he used to watch back at the drive-in theatre. Had she known even then?

Since the moon’s destruction things had fallen into chaos, the seasons had become erratic and with no anchor the raging seas had calmed to a gentle ripple. For those, like himself, who stood in defiance of whatever darkness lay beyond the planet the world had become a dangerous place, far worse than anyone imagined. The floating debris offered little protection from the asteroids that fell from space, crashing into the planet and leaving craters and burning cities in their wake.

But it wasn’t the destruction he feared the most. It was the silence, the emptiness left behind from those who had fled, they had run from the unknown and into the arms of death. Like Sarah and the rest of them he has stayed, too afraid to take the plunge into darkness opting instead to face whatever evil lurked between the stars. Even as a child, before grasping the enormity of what was happening, he had sensed that something was watching them, waiting. There was no way of knowing when it would happen but part of him knew it wouldn’t be long till he found out. Until then he had only one task, one goal that would tip the scale in Earth’s favour – Sarah. As shards of light drifted across the remains of his old home he could hear her voice.

“Winston, do you remember the promise we made to each other when the shuttles left Earth?”

Of course, how could he forget.

“You promised that no matter what we would stay together.”

He sighed, even here on the rocky outcrop he called home, far above the desolate streets of L.A she had found him. It was because of her that he had made it this far, the pixie like voice driving him onward, but she was only a voice. Even though he could no longer remember her face something deep inside his chest told him somehow she was still alive, waiting for him to find her.

The last words she had spoken haunted his every moment. He had to do it, he had to go on. 

Shannon’s text has been passed to the fourth potato Samuel Grainger. Sam is now writing the fourth section which takes us further into the ‘middle’ of the story. Each potato is free to take the narrative wherever they like.

The next instalment of the short story will be on Wednesday 23rd April. Do come back and see where Sam takes us next! The writers are collectively and progressively taking up the structure of beginning, middle and end.


 You can find more out about Shannon  here:

You can read part of Shannon’s novel  here, and a short story of hers here

 As ever, thank you for your interest.








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