Full Body Chills - Vertigo

Episode Date: October 10, 2025

A story about a man caught between a ladder, a crow, and a broken collarbone.VertigoWritten by Nina Schmidt.Thanks to our sponsor, HBO Max. You can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.com.Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an Audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hi, listeners. I have a story I want to tell you. There was this doctor over at St. Agri's who would kill his patients. Oh yes, it was madness. Aren't you afraid the light take might get you? I'm sorry, I didn't listen to you. That adrenaline. That adrenaline.

I want more of it. I snapped. Totally lost it. He had no idea what was on those tapes. It was like a song. It was Ollie and the Outcast. So gather around. And listen.

Close. I didn't bother to check for typos as I finally sent the email I'd been working on. I pushed back my chair and stood, stretching my arms above my head and rolling my stiff neck. When I made the transition from crew to admin at Summit Builders, I had wondered if I'd have to invest in more office-appropriate attire. But when I arrived wearing the same Carhart uniform I'd always worn, I was pleasantly greeted by a bunch of guys sporting the same get-up. Like me, they'd mostly come from the crew,

not because they wanted a desk job, but because their bodies had been broken by years of physical labor. Well, I guess I was a little different. I hadn't had a choice. There had been a fall. Then a modest settlement and a shiny new desk job along with a fresh scar in my collarbone

and a latent fear of fall. heights. My fractured clavicle had never quite healed. It remained as an aching reminder that I had given up physical labor a few years too late for my aging body to ever be the same. I must say, though, it was nice having no form in keeping tabs on you. I smiled. Time for a leisurely bathroom break. I grabbed my phone off my desk and slid. Let it into my back pocket. Boss makes a dollar, I make a dime. That's why I scroll on company time.

As I walked towards the bathroom, I squinted over the cubicle partitions and at my co-worker's screens. Email, spreadsheet, solitaire, compliance form, email. It was slow at the office today. Our big coastal project near the north side of town had been put on pause due to, environmental concerns, something about an estuary and the threat to local species. I winced as I remember the incident with a soil compactor a few weeks back. My buddy still joke about it. The sound of the baby birds as their nest was caught underneath.

Working in construction, I tried not to think too hard about that. The bird population didn't need protecting. Crows were practically a pest that were so pervasive. At any given time, I could turn around and see a dozen of them. They'd hang out my window on the telephone wire, like jurors on a bench that were about to declare us guilty. I cared about the environment more than most people I knew. I just didn't think it was the end of the world to add a couple more apartments to it.

And if I didn't do it, someone else would. And I'd be out of work. I pushed the thought from my mind as I entered the bathroom. I didn't take work home or to the John. But, of course, just as I sat down, a chat popped up from my boss. Can't get this PDF to download. Need your help. I shut my eyes and shook my head, letting out a long exhale. I didn't bother to wash my hands, just gave myself a cursory once over in the mirror,

and my good arm a quick flex. I'd lost muscle recovering from the accident. It was showing. Better than being uneven, I guess. Without thinking, I reached for the door that led back to the hall. But as I stepped through, I reeled backwards.

My eyes unable to make sense of what was before me. Instead of the dirty gray carpet, my feet stumbled onto a silver. great. I spun backwards in search of the door but saw only air. A crow soared effortlessly in the distance. A crow? Where the hell was I? I looked around, desperately trying to make sense of my surroundings. A small platform underneath me. A lattice of steel bars stretching out to either side, a man-sized hole three feet to my left. It began to dawn on me. I was on top of an industrial crane, and not just any crane. I was on top of the 40-story tower crane at 865 Union,

the summit builder's job near the coast. Suddenly, lightheaded, I teetered as my knees gave out, falling forward, but saved by freezing metal pole. I weezed as it hit my chest, my collarbone stinging from the impact, my phone slipping from my grip as I tried to steady. No, no, no. I watched as it fell and over end down hundreds of feet until it became too small to see, exploding into a thousand pieces somewhere on the pavement below.

I scrambled backwards, gasping suddenly aware of how little separated me, From the same fate, my breath caught in my throat, my mind sputtered. I crossed over to the opening and the platform and stared down. The cage-like tube extended downwards like an optical illusion, a rusty red ladder poking through the middle. My shoulder ached at the thought. My face began to crumple as I absorbed the one-two punch of what I was seen. I'm not really here.

I repeated it to myself like an incantation. I'm not really here. The vividness of this hallucination was a problem I'd have to deal with later. I squeezed my lid shut with determination. Right now, I had to focus unwilling myself back to reality. I was going to open my eyes, and I would be standing in the hallway outside the bathroom. I took one deep breath, then another. My heart rate began to slow as my shoulders relaxed.

A cool draft tore through my hair, drying the sweat, beaded on my forehead and calming my nerves. Wait, no. I was supposed to be back inside the office in a climate-controlled corridor. I knew before I'd opened my eyes that, What I would see would confirm my fears. Okay. Think.

I could wait for the crew to come back from their lunch and hope someone would notice me up here. That was going to be a doozy to explain, but I couldn't think about that now. Suddenly, that company-wide memo crossed my mind. It was sent earlier this month regarding the Northside coastal high-rise. From the Office of Watershed Conservation,

due to environmental concerns, a threat to the estuary's native bird populations, a 6-5 union project on indefinite pause. There would be no Carhart Calvary coming to save me. But still, it was almost noon on a Tuesday, and I was 40 stories above one of the most desirable zip codes on the outskirts of the city. There had to be someone around paying attention, right? I stepped gingerly towards the edge of the platform.

The drop to the pavement below was dizzying. Hello? I called. The quiver of my voice revealed something I'd rather not admit. I was starting to panic. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder this time. Hello? My plea was swallowed whole by the vast emptiness.

The welded beams growled. As a blast of icy air caused the entire structure to bend like a reed on wind. My heart pounded harder. I waved my arms above my head as best I could. My compromise collarbone protested with a bolt of pain, but I ignored it. Help! Please! I'm up here! Nothing. The cars on the street below inched along like colorful grains of rice.

Pedestrians crawled along the sidewalks, oblivious to my impossible circumstance. I clenched and unclenched my clammy palms as the fear expanded, filling my chest and cutting off my breath like an inflating balloon. Suddenly, my panic was interrupted by a sharp scream. The sound split through my ears, pinning all my thoughts. I squinted upwards, my eyes landing on that. small shape overhead, that same black void against the radiant gray of the overcast sky. The crow spiraled down in three easy, slow circles and landed on the far side of the platform.

Its talons clicking gently against the metal. It adjusted its wings and cocked its head, its beady eyes never leaving my face. It took a few. threatening steps forward. Silence bloomed between us. The sentience in those eyes felt almost human. I recoiled as it continued to stare, assessing or testing. Shoot! I swatted my hand towards it and it flapped away.

I shivered, whether from unease or my lack of protection from the cold wind. and I didn't know. No sooner had I turned away than I was startled by a few light taps and a rustle from directly behind me. I whipped around. Perched on the railing was the same damn crow, standing and staring at me with that intelligent, hungry gaze.

As I examined the bird in more detail, I began to notice that something was wrong. Its inky feathers were dull and missing in chunks, its eyes unnaturally sunken into its small head. It had that same look I saw on client's faces when a project was finishing up later over budget, waiting and not patiently for something it felt it was owed. I swatted my hand at it again, but this time it didn't move. Get out of here. I didn't react. Just stared.

Fine. Have it your way. Turning my back to the bird, I stared at the ladder that hung in the platform's opening. The chipped paint glinting in the sun like a beaten down fire truck. No. I rolled my eyes. Ridiculous. I sat down and inhaled the chill air deep into my lungs.

I would think of something. I waited. But nothing came. No one could see me up here, and no one would ever think to look. The project was on an indefinite pause. That could mean weeks, if not months. How long could I last up here? I did the math in my head.

From what I'd read, most people could only last a couple of days without water. But that might be enough for someone to notice. A bitter breeze ripples. across my thin t-shirt. I trembled. Oh, no. My heart sank into my stomach like I swallowed an ice cube hole.

It wasn't hunger or thirst that I needed to worry about. In a few hours, the temperature would start dropping, and it wouldn't stop until the dipped well below freezing. I was on a mesh metal platform, exposed to the elements with no protection. I put the pieces together slowly, my mind resisting the realization.

The biting breath of the season whistled up through the grate, making the crane's framework sway like a rocking boat. I didn't have days. I had hours. I would barely have time to miss a meal before the cold would kill me. I looked over the railing to the distant ground below. I could just end it. Take one step and let the crows feast on what's left in the dirt.

I shook my head sharply, trying to drive away the grisly train of thought. Even still, the after image lingered. My remains spread in the dirt like a child's forsaken ice cream cone, shiny black crows picking at my entrails. like ants at a picnic. I struggled to make sense of my options. I couldn't wait it out that much I was sure of. I wasn't going to jump.

Not yet, at least. I didn't give up that easily. But then, what? I could feel the latter staring at me, but I refused to turn. I had one good arm, and one that relied on a hopelessly compromised clavicle, trying to climb down 40 stories, holding fast to bare pipes that were the kind of cold that burned.

I could hardly see a difference between that and suicide. Once more, I felt very small, very, very high up. Dread began filling my ears, roaring like an oncoming train. A voice commanded me from the... behind. Climb? Looking back, I can't explain what happened next. My legs began to move of their own accord.

The corroded beams shaking with each step as I made my way towards the opening. As I slowly leaned over it, a column of wind rushed towards me, blowing my hair back and bringing tears to my eyes. I swayed unsteadily. The distant ground seemed to recede and ebb like a tide, gently and insistently pulling me towards the concrete expanse. I lowered one leg through the cavity. I couldn't even pause to think.

My foot found the first rung. My body had just begun to follow when my workboats slipped. Instinctively, I braced my shoulders against the sides of the hole. My collarbone howled with it. anguish, the kind that was not just an alert, but a warning. My legs flailed wildly as I dangled over the abyss, suspended just by my shaking arms. I reached my foot in front of me, feeling desperately for a solid surface as my shoulders began to burn, nearing failure.

With the last bit of effort I could ring from my throbbing muscles, I swung my legs forward. At that same moment, I felt something. give in my collarbone. I yelped as I fell through the hole, squeezing my eyes shut to prepare for the oncoming freefall. Instead, my foot reconnected with the first rung, the weight of my landing sending a jolt through my body. I stood panting as my heart thundered in my chest.

My clavicle sang with agony. My arm now a dead weight at my side. As I reeled for air, I glanced. stop sensing eyes on me. The crow stood on the platform less than a yard away, watching. There was something wrong with this animal, I was sure now. And it wasn't just that it looked starved. No.

There was something in its eyes that said more than that. It looked. I tried to find the word. That was hunger there, yes, but also. also resentment. I winced as my collarbone began to stiffen, and I was struck with a memory of my last day on the crew. The first thing I remembered was the air being forced from my lungs as I hit the ground.

There was a loud pop and a white-hot pain. And then I remembered laughing as the guys gently mocked me, loading me into my buddy's pickup. I kept it together all the way to the hospital, despite the bumpy ride that seemed to tour every single pothole. It wasn't until I was on a gurney and the adrenaline had started to wear away, that the pain became unbearable. I remembered cold sweat and the nausea,

then the relief of the pain meds. I didn't have any meds up here. There wasn't a hospital bed to recline on either. I had maybe an hour before I was going to be, an overwhelming misery. Before I could talk myself out of it, I was climbing down. The freezing ladder bit

at my one good hand as I awkwardly wriggled from brung to rung. With each step, I looked down to find sure footing, knowing that if I slip now, there would be nothing to catch me. With every glance, my heart leapt into my throat. My body began to tremble with cold, and shock. Every nerve screened the danger of my situation, adrenaline crackling across my skin

like electricity. Then, from behind me, I turned my head just as the crow sailed past, circling the crane. The impulsive movement made my shoulder squeal. The bird's easy flight taunted me i belong here it seemed to say and you do not it circled me waiting like a vulture that had found carrion i just wasn't dead yet the menacing silence that landed gracefully behind me on the main body of the crane this time i wouldn't turn around I dreaded the eager craving I would see in those spangly eyes. I stared forward and continued. I tried to focus on something, anything else,

desperate to keep my mind off of the pains in my shoulder that were now radiating through my fingertips. I dedicated all my attention to my other arm, weak with exhaustion. My fingers were now chilled to numbness. I paused for the big, briefest moment to flex my hand, helping to drive some warmth into it, and looked out towards the horizon. The wetlands stretched out to the east, hemmed in by the encroaching city like an outdated, mossy, shag carpet. It was hard to imagine that this flat, muddy place was teeming

with life. One lonely heron revealed itself, taking flight from the tall grass in the distance. I tried to imagine looking out at this view from inside one of the luxury apartments that sooner or later would overgrow this land. I pictured the plush, white couches and sterile walls. It was the kind of project I would have been proud to work on in my early days at summit builders. Estuary views on the outskirts of the city.

But nothing looked like much from this high up, really. The structure swayed, and I felt like I was an ant clinging to one of the rippling reeds in the grassland below. Heart pounding. I continued climbing down. Slowly, but surely, I was making progress. Please just hold the pain off for a little bit longer. Please let my good arm carry me through this. The skin on my neck began to break. prickle, but not with cold. No, it was something else, something more. I sensed a pair of eyes

boring to the back of my skull. I was being followed. I fixed my gaze in front of me, determined not to give in, but I could feel the crow fixing its beak towards the back of my head. I didn't know what would happen if I turned around and I didn't want to find out. But slowly, against my will and my judgment, my head began to turn, as though an invisible claw had grabbed me by the chin. My collarbone wailed as my head was wrenched around. The crow blinked at me. It's glare, predacious, and full of scrutiny. I stared, unable to look away. Its silky black body perched like a storm cloud, an eclipse on the bright blue sky.

My grip on reality began to loosen, along with the grip on the ladder. Its shadow grew and covered me, filling my vision until it had nearly swallowed me whole. A cough filled my ears, reverberating through my skull until it was just an increasingly distant rattle. It was when I felt the wind tearing through my hair that I realized I was falling. I tried to scream, but the air was ripped from my open mouth before I could make a sound.

I writhed desperately, my instinct of scramble for survival superseding my conscious understanding that there was nothing I could do. My body rolled in the air, and for an instant I was on my back, with my arms and my legs floating weightlessly above me. In the distant sky, an inky apparition tumbled and wheeled, triumphant. How long could I fall? For a moment, I wondered if I would be suspended in this purgatory forever, falling ceaselessly towards nothing.

Then, with an explosion of pain, I hit the ground. Suddenly, I was on my hands and knees on a familiar gray carpet, gasping. Something was vibrating in my pocket. I reached in my body's conditioned response, and I pulled out my phone. A message from my boss lit up the screen. Need help with this PDF ASAP. Mechanically, I stood up and started towards his office.

I am back at my desk now. I've been sitting here gawking at this spreadsheet for the past couple of hours. I can't process what happened to me. I'm beginning to question my sanity. I don't know who to talk to. There's not a person in my life who wouldn't look at me differently if I tried to explain to them what I just experienced. So, here I am,

turning to the strangers of the Internet for comfort or guidance or a referral for a good psychiatrist. The harder I try to push it from my mind, the more insistently the experience comes back. I've been trying to go back to work and let myself be lulled by the normalcy. But there's this, noise, coming from my office window.

It's grating at me, making me clench my jaw and tense my sore shoulders and twinging clavicle. It's quiet, but impossible to ignore. From the bottom of my bag, I dug up an old pair of industrial-grade earplugs I used to wear on job sites. They're rated for 30 decibels, but they're not doing a damn thing to blow. lock it out. There's no hurry to the sound, just a constant, insistent dissonance. I can't see the creature knocking at my window, but I know if I could, I would see beady black eyes in a shiny, sable head pecking, scratching, clawing to get in. Full Body Chills is an audio Chuck production.

This episode was written by Nina Schmidt and read by Christopher Swindle. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. I think Chuck would approve. Thank you.