The Munro Academy Poltergeist

If our box is on a slide and not moving then we can draw the forces on that. There is a gravitational force acting vertically on the box here, and the box does not fall through the slide so we know the slide is applying an opposite reaction force perpendicular whoever is making that knocking sound will cease to the surface. And since our box I said stop that knocking is not sliding down the slide I do not want to hear it Miss Cartwright there must be a frictional force parallel to the surface here, and the combined vertical components of these two reactive forces STOP THAT KNOCKING!

Mr Fitzroy was a popular teacher, cheerful and generous with his time. And when prevailed upon to teach physics rather than his more usual mathematics could often be cajoled into breaking up the lesson by delivering a short humorous lecture on the superiority of the latter (a pure flight of intellectual ingenuity) to the former (the prosaic study of the humdrum workings of the world). If, however, when he took over the physics class, he also took over room 3B, there was a danger that his students might fall foul of his refusal to countenance the existence of the poltergeist. It was a popular legend that he had once failed an entire class an important test because of incessant knocking.

In this attitude he stood toward the extreme sceptical end of opinion among the staff. Miss James, the usual custodian of 3B, preferred to dismiss the knocking sounds as problems with the pipes, but could be prevailed upon to admit that the science block was in fact heated by a hot air system. Mister Singh, the chemistry teacher who most commonly occupied 2C, referred to the poltergeist jocularly as Peter or Petronella or Pavel or Penelope whenever the knocking became impossible to ignore, and told his students that a little knocking was harmless enough. There were some who openly believed in the haunting. One of the art teachers had once stood in 3C and attempted some form of 'automatic sketching' – with no great results. At least two who occupied the main building refused to cross the threshold of the science block.

Mrs Harris, the deputy head, would not be drawn on the subject but nevertheless declined to schedule lessons in 3C, even if it involved a complex juggle between the science block and the rest of the school. The cleaners had it on clear understanding that they would clean the third floor of the science block first thing, not to be delayed for any reason, and would not return to it afterwards. Mr Stefanek, the head janitor, would hear no talk of ghosts, but had some years ago ceased to use 3C as storage due to the high number of unexplained breakages and, coincidentally or otherwise, preferred to lock up the science block first of an evening.

Among the students scepticism was very much the exception. A lore of their own was passed down from year group to year group and it was widely understood as fact that the walls of 3C had once run with blood, that a previous chemistry teacher who occupied it had retired with nervous exhaustion, and that the haunting began after a boy was killed in a chemistry experiment gone wrong when the block was new in the year 2000. None of which, of course, was true. Their beliefs evolved as new generations took them over but one aspect remained steadfastly constant: all significant events were said to occur before even the oldest of Year 13 were present at the school.

Such was the situation when Mr Fitzroy spent a night in the science block.

He had only intended to work a little late. He had noticed that Miss James' Year 11 class, which he had taken over in her absence, were discombobulated by losing their teacher so close to their mocks, and in particular were struggling with Friction, Weight and Mass. He remembered that the school had, in the past, been able to perform the experiment where a coin and a feather were simultaneously dropped through a vacuum chamber, which was always a favourite among students, and thought that, as a Friday treat, he would repeat it. The other Physics teachers informed him that the equipment was still around but had ceased to function - the chamber would no longer hold a vacuum, but they did not think there was anything tremendously wrong with it and it should be repairable. Mr Fitzroy ran out to a plumbers supply shop during his lunch hour for some silicon grease while Mr Stefanek located the equipment and, after the end of lessons, he set it up in 3B and tried to get it working.

The cleaners interrupted him first. Two women who appeared not just surprised, but actually horrified that he was still there.

"Olá," he said. "Tudo bem?"

The women looked at him blankly and he was struck by the embarrassing realisation that he was not actually one hundred percent certain they were Portuguese. He had just assumed it.

"Você é português?" he said, falteringly. It was a few years since he had last been to the Algarve and his grasp of the language would not confidently stretch much further than uma cerveja por favor.

One of the women looked up at him and nodded shyly before turning immediately back to her work. They seemed to think he were somehow dangerous, or perhaps profoundly unlucky, and gave him a wide birth as they ran their floor cleaner and duster around the room.

At five o'clock, after the cleaners had done with the building, Mr Stefanek arrived to lock up. By this time Mr Fitzroy had the vacuum chamber fully assembled on his desk and was at his laptop, searching online for how to fix it.

"Not working?" the janitor asked.

"It all seems to be present and correct," Mr Fitzroy said. "And yet it does not hold a vacuum. I've cleaned and greased all the seals and I just can't see where it's leaking."

Mr Stefanek sucked his teeth and looked the equipment over. "If you had a source of smoke," he said. "You might be able to see where it enters."

"I had thought of that," said Mr Fitzroy, who was not unknown to enjoy the occasional confiscated cigarette when he had had a trying day. "I was worried I'd set off the smoke alarms."

"Use the fume cupboard in one of the chemistry labs."

Mr Fitzroy slapped the table in the exact way he did when a student gave the answer he was hoping for. "That is a very good idea. Are they all locked up?"

Mr Stefanek sucked his teeth again. "I could unlock one," he said.

"I think when I find the leak it should be quick to fix. It says here duct tape will do the job well enough."

Mr Stefanek took his bunch of keys, which hung from his belt on a retractable chain, and carefully extricated the ring for the science block. "Use the cupboard in 2C," he said. "I will be in the main building till six."

Mr Fitzroy took the keys and leafed through them, all neatly labelled, and found the one for 2C. "I should be done by then," he said and put the keys in the pocket of his bag.

"I could stay later but my wife prepares dinner. You can lock up and return the keys in the morning if..." He sucked his teeth a third time and looked out the window. "It's getting dark," he mentioned.

A look passed between the two men, neither of whom was willing to admit to any reason why a person should not remain in the science block after dark.

"I should be done by then," Mr Fitzroy repeated.

Sadly, this is the last anyone sees of Mr Fitzroy alive.

At 5:45pm Mr Fitzroy posts on three internet forums, two specialist science teacher chat forums and one more general engineering help forum. All three posts are nearly identical. He outlines his problem, explains that he needs it working for tomorrow morning, carefully details the efforts he has already made, including the smoke test conducted in a fume cupboard, and asks if anyone has any ideas. For fifteen minutes he receives nothing but a few encouraging words and then, just before 6pm, an American science teacher with the username Sam55 responds.

Sounds like you've done a thorough job of checking the tubes, chamber, and connections but have you tested the pump? I've had situations where vacuum pumps appear to work but are not pulling with any force. Do you have a vacuum gauge?

Mr Fitzroy responds immediately thanking the user and after a further ten minutes announces that he has found the gauge that belongs to the pump and:

Eureka! You are right and the pump is barely pulling at all. I had almost begun to believe in the ghost! (the students insist there is one in the chem lab). Any ideas if this can be fixed by an amateur? It must be well out of any warranty.

Sam55 responds: Happy to help. There are a few things you can do. Post a picture of the pump and I can talk you through it. LOL Ghost of the chem lab :) Love it!

Mr Fitzroy posts a photograph of the pump and for about twenty minutes the two men trade messages concerning the maintenance. Checking the mechanism moves freely, checking valves are working and unblocked, checking the inlet is not fouled, and finally checking the oil. Sam55 has Mr Fitzroy drain a little of the oil into a clear cup to see if it is cloudy. This Mr Fitzroy does and posts a second picture.

Yep, more like orange juice than apple juice I'd say.

Sam55 agrees that the oil needs changing and Mr Fitzroy replies that he will check in the store cupboard to see if there is any spare. While he is gone a third user posts.

I think I can see your ghost.

Evidently there were a few bored science teachers, in America and the UK both, following the discussion, for three of them take up this thread. One posts a zoomed in detail of the beaker into which Mr Fitzroy drained the oil. In it, very indistinct, appears to be the reflection of a woman in a green dress.

When, after a full twenty minutes, Mr Fitzroy returns, he announces his presence with just one word: Back.

Three minutes later he posts again:

Sorry, nearly decided to just pack up and go there. Had a bit of a fright looking for the oil. Could have sworn I heard footsteps following me all the way down and then, when I was in the storeroom, could hear fast breathing right up close to my ear. Gave me the willies. Must be some resonance in the hot air heating system. Found the oil though. Will get this done and then a glass of wine with dinner tonight I think :)

Sam55 posts what must have been, judging by how quickly he responds, some pre-prepared instructions on changing the oil. Afterwards he adds afraid you do need to wait for it to drip out – can be slow.

At this point many of the other users are, as you might imagine, much more interested in the ghost and prevail upon Mr Fitzroy to explain the reflection in the beaker. He does not respond for about five minutes, presumably busy carrying out Sam55's instructions.

Oil is draining now. A fellow could go mad in here. When I turned around my coat and bag had moved to the back of the room. Definitely didn't put them there myself. Pretty sure it is my coat you see in the beaker by the way.

After this the multiple threads of conversation become too complex to follow. The comments from Mr Fitzroy though read as follows:

This stuff is like glue. Taking forever to drain. Must be absolutely filthy!

Lots of noise from upstairs. Better check before I go. Which would be worse to find, ghost or intruder? :)

No coat is not green but probably just trick of the light. Possibly because dirty oil so yellow? Swear someone keeps moving my bag though.

I think they're whispering through the heating vents so it sounds very close and trying to scare me. I must be firm.

Heh @Sam55, how long should this take?

Okay, I think someone is definitely in here. Glimpsed someone through the door but when I ran out into the corridor they were gone. One of the year 13 girls maybe.

That is the last message Mr Fitzroy left on the forum. Seven minutes later he left a message on Mr Stefanek's phone. Mr Stefanek was, unfortunately, on a call to his wife while driving home at the time. Mr Fitzroy sounds out of breath.

"Hi John, it's me Pat Fitzroy. Look, someone's playing silly buggers here. They've locked your keys in 3C. I can see them in the door. I don't know how I'm going to get out - I may have to break the window. Call me back quick okay or... or you can just bill me."

When Mr Stefanek finally received the message he tried three times to return the call before returning to the school. On the way he called the police twice. The first to simply ask that they attend, a request which was denied. The second to state that he had listened again to teacher's message and believed there were intruders in the building. He waited half an hour for them to turn up before entering the science block with the spare keys.

They found Mr Fitzroy in the empty 3C classroom slumped against the wall. The window on the door had been broken, presumably by Mr Fitzroy, apparently with the vacuum pump which lay in a small oily puddle on the corridor floor. The door was locked and the keys were still in the lock on the inside. From the state of his clothes Mr Fitzroy appeared to have been pulled bodily through the broken window. He had fingernail scratches on his hands as if fhe had been defending himself from an attack. There was a great gouge across his cheek that had bled profusely. His head had been knocked repeatedly against the wall until his skull had fractured.

Knock. Knock. Knock.