It was a rare game they were about to play. This particular brand of fun only happened when Dominic’s temper was so dark that he punctuated each word when he spoke with a sharp, almost-hissing sound.

Jennifer didn’t like this game. It wasn't fun--this is dangerous, Jennifer. Tell him that it's dangerous, too dangerous--but she was as silent as Dominic. All she had said earlier was some off-hand, jokey comment about a country singer that Dominic liked, and Jennifer's opinion had set him off to hissing and silence.

The game was called Mock Execution, and, as far as Jennifer could tell, Dominic made it up himself. Dominic would spot a pedestrian and then he would drive his sedan as close as possible to the pedestrian, and then Dominic would pretend to try and run them over. Pretend, right? Pretend, Jennifer thought, watching Dominic's thin face in the burgeoning pre-dawn light.

Once Dominic saw the naked and terrified responses of the pedestrians he was trying--pretending--to run over, he would jerk the wheel, and then the car would right itself in the lane with a squeal, and then Dominic’s game was done.

The last time they played Mock Execution was four months ago, when Dominic agreed to finally meet Jennifer’s best friend, Scott, who she met at school. Scott was a classmate she'd known for over three years. Dominic had been nearly silent throughout the whole dinner, looking at his phone, drinking hard liquor, and occasionally laughing at nothing. After they all left the restaurant, Dominic watched Scott walk away to his car, leaving Jennifer standing there on the sidewalk without unlocking the sedan. Dominic told Jennifer as they drove away that Scott wasn't actually Jennifer’s best friend, as women simply couldn't have male best friends because Scott was more than likely just looking to get into her pants. When Jennifer snorted and laughed-- “you’re funny, Dominic! Of course Scott's my best friend!” she responded, thinking he was making a joke. Dominic went even more silent than at the restaurant. He pressed his lips together and had started looking for pedestrians.

This time was no different. Still, silent, with angry heat crackling off of his skin in waves, Dominic drove the speed limit, but pressed his lips together, scanning for pedestrians. The sedan’s clock read 5:13 AM, so there were few people awake and outside yet. Jennifer hoped that they wouldn't find a pedestrian. Then they crested the hill on the way home and Dominic spotted a jogger. The jogger wore neon green and yellow running shorts and a neon blue top, her braid swinging with the pounding of her feet on the uneven dirt road she ran on. She was wearing headphones, focused on her run. Jennifer pressed her hands together on the inside of her thighs. Please don’t see us, please don't turn your head and see us, Jennifer thought. Dominic switched lanes, still going the speed limit, and eased the sedan right behind the jogger, taking up the bike lane.

Once Dominic eased the sedan slowly into the jogger’s line of sight, his lips slackened into a small, tight smile.

Five, six seconds passed, and finally the jogger saw the car. She startled hard, her whole body jerked to the right in surprise. Jennifer watched the jogger lose her footing. Dominic had stopped the car to watch, too. They watched the bright purple shoes get caught, tangled, her left foot tripping her right foot. The jogger hit a deep hole in the unpaved path, and neither Dominic nor Jennifer heard the sound of the jogger’s skull crack as it collided with the exposed and unused rusty water runoff pipe sticking up from the ground. They watched as the jogger’s body twitched once, twice, and then went still. Blood was all over the pipe and the ground.

The pair remained silent, watching, only for a moment. Dominic jerked the wheel, put the sedan in drive. The game was over.

over the past decade, i’ve written several stories for my short story anthology violent impulses. although not currently available to the public, violent impulses has allowed me to find inspiration and source material from anything in my reality, provided the outcome is violent and impulsive.

i outlined the initial beats of the story while i was on a jog in a geographic area similar to the one in a rare game.

there was a jagged, broken pipe jutting up from the ground, waiting to catch a biker or jogger unaware, and the strongest thought i had the moment i jogged by that pipe was: what if someone scared someone else and they lost their footing and killed themselves on that pipe?

one hundred thousand years ago, i set out to get my first bachelor’s degree in, what i thought then, broadcast journalism with an emphasis on sports broadcasting. that was way, way back in 2007 (christ, i’m old).

i didn’t end up getting that degree, but i’ve always been extremely curious about and focused on audio as a part of the human landscape of experience, whether that experience is pleasure or pain.

i submitted a rare game as a written story to Madison College’s Yahara Journal in 2021, and, once they decided to publish the story, the editor asked if i would like to contribute an .mp3 of the spoken word version of the story, as well. of course i said yes! normally, i don’t care to hear myself read my own work, but i like the trembles and tenor of my voice. i hope you all enjoy hearing it as much as i enjoyed recording it