ClancyPasta | Internet Horror Stories
Sep 19, 2026 · 13 min · 7 segments
"...they were gone..." CLANCYPASTA PRESENTS ► "The Crab Traps of Goodwin's Island" written by Sammy Hutchison (SammyFilming), narrated by ClancyPasta Here are ways to support the podcast if you…
growing up in chop tank proper you hear the evil tales of goodwin's island men with hooks through their necks ladies appearing through the mud that suck the life of a man out through their nostrils children that eat human flesh and so the stories go i always found them a little far-fetched if i'm frank with you campfire fodder and hooey to scare children, but grown men would stray their fishing boats far from that shore because of those tails,
preferring to take their chances
on less fruitful waters just so they wouldn't be eaten by a kraken shaped like a clam,
or what have you.
I plopped my crab pots off the shore with pride, and wouldn't you know it, I darn cleaned up like a donkey on a straw sundae.
My traps burst with crabs like I had never seen it.
The traders at the market were befuddled.
I repeat, befuddled.
You hoodwinking S.O.B., yelled Darnell.
Hoodwinking? You hold your tongue, you fat load, I said.
To be fair, I had a larger stomach than Darnell, but it felt appropriate.
Well, if you ain't stealing these from other people's pots, where in the Sam Hill are you trapping such a load? Any crabber man worth his salt wouldn't tell a Gabby Cathy like you a thing.
He scoffed at me, but that was true.
A crabber man does not divulge a hotspot, because next thing you know, it's run over, even with the lore of Goodwin's Island.
But...
Wouldn't you know it, when I went out to my crab pots the next day, they were gone.
Every single one.
Someone had followed me out the day prior, I just knew it.
Although why they would take the traps and not drop their own, or just steal my crabs, I could not figure out.
I went back to my pier and wrangled some more metal cages and buoys and bait, and I laid them down again, right along Goodwin's Island.
The next day, gone.
I hightailed it to the market again and grilled Darnell and the other traders.
To say they were jovial and condescending in my accusations of trap theft would be a kindness.
But I had a plan.
I was out of money and traps, but I had some buoys, so I tethered some strings to rocks and attached them to the buoys so they'd sit just as they would with traps, and I'd camp out on the island and snag the thief.
growing up in chop tank proper you hear the evil tales of goodwin's island men with hooks through their necks ladies appearing through the mud that suck the life of a man out through their nostrils children that eat human flesh and so the stories go i always found them a little far-fetched if i'm frank with you campfire fodder and hooey to scare children, but grown men would stray their fishing boats far from that shore because of those tails,
preferring to take their chances
on less fruitful waters just so they wouldn't be eaten by a kraken shaped like a clam,
or what have you.
I plopped my crab pots off the shore with pride, and wouldn't you know it, I darn cleaned up like a donkey on a straw sundae.
My traps burst with crabs like I had never seen it.
The traders at the market were befuddled.
I repeat, befuddled.
You hoodwinking S.O.B., yelled Darnell.
Hoodwinking? You hold your tongue, you fat load, I said.
To be fair, I had a larger stomach than Darnell, but it felt appropriate.
Well, if you ain't stealing these from other people's pots, where in the Sam Hill are you trapping such a load? Any crabber man worth his salt wouldn't tell a Gabby Cathy like you a thing.
He scoffed at me, but that was true.
A crabber man does not divulge a hotspot, because next thing you know, it's run over, even with the lore of Goodwin's Island.
But...
Wouldn't you know it, when I went out to my crab pots the next day, they were gone.
Every single one.
Someone had followed me out the day prior, I just knew it.
Although why they would take the traps and not drop their own, or just steal my crabs, I could not figure out.
I went back to my pier and wrangled some more metal cages and buoys and bait, and I laid them down again, right along Goodwin's Island.
The next day, gone.
I hightailed it to the market again and grilled Darnell and the other traders.
To say they were jovial and condescending in my accusations of trap theft would be a kindness.
But I had a plan.
I was out of money and traps, but I had some buoys, so I tethered some strings to rocks and attached them to the buoys so they'd sit just as they would with traps, and I'd camp out on the island and snag the thief.
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