An Experimental Haunting
Created | Updated Jun 1, 2007
Around the University of Hull all was quiet. The students had long since gone back to their lodgings while the lecturers relaxed either at home or in one of the many pubs which were dotted around Cottingham and Beverley Road.
Academia was now closed for the night.
Not many people hovered around, the night was cold, there was a chance of snow falling. As cold wind blew in from the north which whipped around the quadrangles and gardens which made out the campus. All seemed to be prepared for the long cold night ahead.
One light burnt brightly through the darkness though, just one.
In the bowels of the lavatories Professor John Street sat at a table. The starched white lab coat which he wore hung off his shoulders like a piece of stiff card. Under it he whore a brown sports jacket and a pair of brown cords. Street never dressed any differently, even as a student his clothing seemed to be perpetual.
On the wooden topped table in front of him where scattered a collection of A4 sheets, all test results from metal analyses of different kinds. Much was done by the staff of this research laboratory. The university was engaged in vital mineral research and its extraction from raw materials with the minimum of processing. Theories would be drafted, debated and finally experimented with. The process was long and labours, the results were also scrutinised in the smallest detail.
Along with these several more interesting jobs would pass through the department. The local police authority for instance would use their facilities for forensic testing and call the senior staff in as expert witnesses.
At present a job had come in from within the university itself. The archaeology department had unearthed a collection of ‘artefacts’. That was all he was ever told. The task entrusted into his hands was to date the finds using scientific means.
The professors who where experts in the field had let nothing slip in way of a clue to the dates of origin, though Street knew they would no doubt be running a book on his results. He had to remain impartial for that very reason.
In a vice which was bolted to a table at his rear was clamped a sword. The weapon was approximately four feet in length, base to tip. The handle and hilt were in considerable good shape for an object of some age. Corrosion had taken its toll on the piece, once he imagined it would have shone in the sunlight during the heat of battle, now it was brown and brittle.
Two samples of the sword where now contained in the innards of one of the many pieces of equipment. It was going through the process of a mild heat treatment which was all part of the age defining process.
Street was well used too the strange cacophony of noises in the lab. Machinery hummed, the lights also hummed, but at a lower frequency. The air conditioning unit buzzed while the plumbing clanked.
Now though he heard a different kind of noise, so strange a thing was the noise that he looked up from his work.
A low frequency hum ran through his body, he felt it from the tip of his head to his toes. Behind him he could hear something vibrating and the strangest thing was the feeling that someone was in the room behind him, watching what he was doing.
An involuntary shiver ran down his neck, putting his pen down on top of the sheets of paper he looked around. To his amazement he watched as a translucent figure of a man walked, no not walked, but floated across the room. Finally it vanished through the wall to his left.
For several minutes he sat on the stool unable to move, though it was not fear which had struck him dumb, but the thirst for information. What had just happened, what had he just witnessed?
He was a scientist and no believer in ghosts, but then he couldn’t deny what he had just seen.
Action was needed.
Jumping up from the chair he quickly looked around the room. He wanted to recreate the exact conditions of when he had seen the vision. It was at this point that he noticed the sword in the vice was vibrating. Putting his hand on it the vibration stopped.
It took him ten minutes too make his notes, all had to be accounted for, which lights were turned on, which machines were in operation and what state of their cycles they were at. All had to be accounted for.
The following day was bright and cold, though to Professor Street he cared little about the weather. He hurried through the grounds of the University eager to start the days work. The little man hurried so much that he forgot to eat the apple which he held in his hand, breakfast would have to wait.
One more thing had to be checked before he could re-enact the events of the previous night. Putting his apple down he read the paper readout from one of the pieces of equipment.
Iron, the sword was mainly made up of iron. That would explain the vibration. Irons natural oscillation frequency was the same as the heat treatment equipment, so that’s what made the sword vibrate. Now what about the ghost?
The experiment was now ready too run. The conditions created in the lab were accurate to the previous evening. He sat on the stool and waited.
For twenty minutes, nothing happened. No movement what so ever from the sword and no ghost.
Then at twenty six minutes and three seconds into the experiment the weapon still in the vice started to vibrate. Street sat and waited, the familiar tingle was running through his body, but where was the ghost, no sign of it. Then he realised that last night he had been crouching over his notes o the desk and saw the ghost when he half turned his body. So he mirrored his movements of the previous night.
From his writing position he turned away from his work, just like the night before. On this occasion though no ghostly image was apparent. As he let out a sigh his head position moved a fraction of a degree, but this movement had the desired effect. The ghost appeared, walked across the room and through the wall, just as before. “Perfect,” he said to himself.
He noticed that in one of the light fittings situated in the ceiling a fluorescent tube was flickering. He stood on a chair and removed it, could it be?
The experiment took another twelve hours to recreate due to the cycle of several of the pieces of equipment running their course. Now he would try again, on this occasion he had the strongest feeling that no phantom would appear and he knew why.
‘Your eyes can play all manner of tricks on you’ he had been told by a friend of his, and he should know, he was an optician. For you’re eyes to create an illusion though an outside influence has to be engaged, in this case the faulty strip light.
The experiment began. His state of mind was perfect to susceptibility, he was very tired. This, pet project was running along side his already busy schedule.
Like a train pulling in on time the sword started to vibrate then slowly he turned around, nothing. His mind went back to the last experiment, so he slowly moved his head in various direction and angles, still nothing.
He smiled to himself, he knew he was right. The process though had to be repeated, this would give him enough proof to write up his findings. All had to be reset once again.
It was the early hours of the morning when he was ready to begin again. He promised hi8mself that he would get some sleep after this final attempt then write up his findings in the morning.
So it began, déjà vu. Everything exactly as it was previously, the equipment, the vice, the ghost?
He sighted a huge sigh of relief. He had discovered the truth behind ghost sightings. They were all mere illusions coursed by either natural or artificial frequencies.
Would this discovery make him famous?
The following day was a busy one. The work had mounted up, he knew that his report of supernatural phenomena would have to wait until the evening, much to his disappointment.
The day passed slowly, the more he did the slower the clock seemed to move. The constant stream of visitors didn’t help the course as they came in waiting their test results or questioning information provided by previous results.
Finally at eight thirty he closed the door for the final time. Sitting down at the very same table he opened his pad and began to write his report.
Everything had to be included, times, date, equipment, even the weather and atmospheric conditions had to be taken into account. All this was explained in great detail before any mention of the experiment itself was mentioned.
By the time ten thirty arrived he could hardly keep his eyes open. The pen fell from his hand on more then one occasion, but now he had reached the end of his report, the conclusion. This passage he was about to write could make his name famous, his name could go down in scientific history.
As he wrote the word ‘conclusion’ and underlined it he became aware of a shiver running from his head to his toes, just like the sensation he had felt during his experiments.
That was peculiar, no equipment was switched on, the faulty strip light had been removed.
He shivered and carried on writing. So deep in thought was his concentration that he wasn’t aware of the sword osculating. Now the artefact resided on one of the benches and not in the vice. It only did so for a moment, a hand wrapped itself around the handle.
Street saw its tip appear through the front of his chest as crimson blood showered onto his report.
Just before he passed out he managed to turn and see the translucent figure of a man disappearing through the wall.
Academia was now closed for the night.
Not many people hovered around, the night was cold, there was a chance of snow falling. As cold wind blew in from the north which whipped around the quadrangles and gardens which made out the campus. All seemed to be prepared for the long cold night ahead.
One light burnt brightly through the darkness though, just one.
In the bowels of the lavatories Professor John Street sat at a table. The starched white lab coat which he wore hung off his shoulders like a piece of stiff card. Under it he whore a brown sports jacket and a pair of brown cords. Street never dressed any differently, even as a student his clothing seemed to be perpetual.
On the wooden topped table in front of him where scattered a collection of A4 sheets, all test results from metal analyses of different kinds. Much was done by the staff of this research laboratory. The university was engaged in vital mineral research and its extraction from raw materials with the minimum of processing. Theories would be drafted, debated and finally experimented with. The process was long and labours, the results were also scrutinised in the smallest detail.
Along with these several more interesting jobs would pass through the department. The local police authority for instance would use their facilities for forensic testing and call the senior staff in as expert witnesses.
At present a job had come in from within the university itself. The archaeology department had unearthed a collection of ‘artefacts’. That was all he was ever told. The task entrusted into his hands was to date the finds using scientific means.
The professors who where experts in the field had let nothing slip in way of a clue to the dates of origin, though Street knew they would no doubt be running a book on his results. He had to remain impartial for that very reason.
In a vice which was bolted to a table at his rear was clamped a sword. The weapon was approximately four feet in length, base to tip. The handle and hilt were in considerable good shape for an object of some age. Corrosion had taken its toll on the piece, once he imagined it would have shone in the sunlight during the heat of battle, now it was brown and brittle.
Two samples of the sword where now contained in the innards of one of the many pieces of equipment. It was going through the process of a mild heat treatment which was all part of the age defining process.
Street was well used too the strange cacophony of noises in the lab. Machinery hummed, the lights also hummed, but at a lower frequency. The air conditioning unit buzzed while the plumbing clanked.
Now though he heard a different kind of noise, so strange a thing was the noise that he looked up from his work.
A low frequency hum ran through his body, he felt it from the tip of his head to his toes. Behind him he could hear something vibrating and the strangest thing was the feeling that someone was in the room behind him, watching what he was doing.
An involuntary shiver ran down his neck, putting his pen down on top of the sheets of paper he looked around. To his amazement he watched as a translucent figure of a man walked, no not walked, but floated across the room. Finally it vanished through the wall to his left.
For several minutes he sat on the stool unable to move, though it was not fear which had struck him dumb, but the thirst for information. What had just happened, what had he just witnessed?
He was a scientist and no believer in ghosts, but then he couldn’t deny what he had just seen.
Action was needed.
Jumping up from the chair he quickly looked around the room. He wanted to recreate the exact conditions of when he had seen the vision. It was at this point that he noticed the sword in the vice was vibrating. Putting his hand on it the vibration stopped.
It took him ten minutes too make his notes, all had to be accounted for, which lights were turned on, which machines were in operation and what state of their cycles they were at. All had to be accounted for.
The following day was bright and cold, though to Professor Street he cared little about the weather. He hurried through the grounds of the University eager to start the days work. The little man hurried so much that he forgot to eat the apple which he held in his hand, breakfast would have to wait.
One more thing had to be checked before he could re-enact the events of the previous night. Putting his apple down he read the paper readout from one of the pieces of equipment.
Iron, the sword was mainly made up of iron. That would explain the vibration. Irons natural oscillation frequency was the same as the heat treatment equipment, so that’s what made the sword vibrate. Now what about the ghost?
The experiment was now ready too run. The conditions created in the lab were accurate to the previous evening. He sat on the stool and waited.
For twenty minutes, nothing happened. No movement what so ever from the sword and no ghost.
Then at twenty six minutes and three seconds into the experiment the weapon still in the vice started to vibrate. Street sat and waited, the familiar tingle was running through his body, but where was the ghost, no sign of it. Then he realised that last night he had been crouching over his notes o the desk and saw the ghost when he half turned his body. So he mirrored his movements of the previous night.
From his writing position he turned away from his work, just like the night before. On this occasion though no ghostly image was apparent. As he let out a sigh his head position moved a fraction of a degree, but this movement had the desired effect. The ghost appeared, walked across the room and through the wall, just as before. “Perfect,” he said to himself.
He noticed that in one of the light fittings situated in the ceiling a fluorescent tube was flickering. He stood on a chair and removed it, could it be?
The experiment took another twelve hours to recreate due to the cycle of several of the pieces of equipment running their course. Now he would try again, on this occasion he had the strongest feeling that no phantom would appear and he knew why.
‘Your eyes can play all manner of tricks on you’ he had been told by a friend of his, and he should know, he was an optician. For you’re eyes to create an illusion though an outside influence has to be engaged, in this case the faulty strip light.
The experiment began. His state of mind was perfect to susceptibility, he was very tired. This, pet project was running along side his already busy schedule.
Like a train pulling in on time the sword started to vibrate then slowly he turned around, nothing. His mind went back to the last experiment, so he slowly moved his head in various direction and angles, still nothing.
He smiled to himself, he knew he was right. The process though had to be repeated, this would give him enough proof to write up his findings. All had to be reset once again.
It was the early hours of the morning when he was ready to begin again. He promised hi8mself that he would get some sleep after this final attempt then write up his findings in the morning.
So it began, déjà vu. Everything exactly as it was previously, the equipment, the vice, the ghost?
He sighted a huge sigh of relief. He had discovered the truth behind ghost sightings. They were all mere illusions coursed by either natural or artificial frequencies.
Would this discovery make him famous?
The following day was a busy one. The work had mounted up, he knew that his report of supernatural phenomena would have to wait until the evening, much to his disappointment.
The day passed slowly, the more he did the slower the clock seemed to move. The constant stream of visitors didn’t help the course as they came in waiting their test results or questioning information provided by previous results.
Finally at eight thirty he closed the door for the final time. Sitting down at the very same table he opened his pad and began to write his report.
Everything had to be included, times, date, equipment, even the weather and atmospheric conditions had to be taken into account. All this was explained in great detail before any mention of the experiment itself was mentioned.
By the time ten thirty arrived he could hardly keep his eyes open. The pen fell from his hand on more then one occasion, but now he had reached the end of his report, the conclusion. This passage he was about to write could make his name famous, his name could go down in scientific history.
As he wrote the word ‘conclusion’ and underlined it he became aware of a shiver running from his head to his toes, just like the sensation he had felt during his experiments.
That was peculiar, no equipment was switched on, the faulty strip light had been removed.
He shivered and carried on writing. So deep in thought was his concentration that he wasn’t aware of the sword osculating. Now the artefact resided on one of the benches and not in the vice. It only did so for a moment, a hand wrapped itself around the handle.
Street saw its tip appear through the front of his chest as crimson blood showered onto his report.
Just before he passed out he managed to turn and see the translucent figure of a man disappearing through the wall.
