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...ng, swooping creatures seem to be the reason.
The car doesn’t start again, and I have to twist the key for seconds that crunch into minutes while I scream and shout and my face gets redder and redder. One of my pupils, Colin, with his attractive mother, walks past my car and waves. I look foolish. The car grunts into life and I nearly run them over.
“Sorry!” I mouth but they look petrified and hurry away.
The magpie is still on its throne of branches, observing me like I am a juicy worm. I am not a worm. I inch forward, looking left and right to make sure there is no traffic. Both sides are clear so I pull out. Dents and noise pop and bang as a mixture of metal and flesh topple over the bonnet. I have run over a cyclist. My car was going so slowly, he can’t be dead. Surely. The magpie caws and flutters away in the evening chill, leaving the scene of the crime. I am shaking all over. The cyclist groggily gets to his feet. He looks #!^!ed off.

Is it supernatural?mature

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