Fall is definitely here. No, the weather’s not a lot cooler. The leaves aren’t really colored yet. And I haven’t brewed spiced cider. But it’s fall because we had college fellowship at our house last night. About a quarter of our church attendance is college students, and once a month they come to our house for food (lots of food), prayer, and murder. Prayer and murder seem antithetical, but we make it work.
We’ve played lots of games, but the favorite is always Mafia. Maybe it’s the fun of killing as a Mafioso or being killed as a citizen of Dead Town or being executed by your fellow townfolk, but mostly I think it’s the creative narration of murder. The role of the narrator is not only to run the game, but to entertain the masses. Last night we had C4-filled walls exploding with the flip of a light switch. Poisoned cafeteria food. Camera flashed to death. And speaking of cameras, John took way too many incriminating photos of the Mafioso so they strangled him with his own camera strap.
Is it any wonder I decided to write a murder mystery?