NEWS! NEWS! NEWS! Wild, Wonderful 'n Wacky was chosen as one of six finalists in the American Bookfest Best Book Awards for 2018 in the anthology category! We are so PROUD!!!!!
About the book:
Just like the people of the state, the stories found in Wild, Wonderful ‘n Wacky, South Cackalacky are original and spirited. These true accounts about life in South Carolina are personal stories written from the heart by the people who live here. They comprise a testament to the state slogan “Smiling faces and Beautiful places” and create a collective, personalized account of who were and who we are—strong individualists who have lived, loved, laughed, and cried together.
Read all about us—right here. Be amazed. Wonder at it all—life in our beautiful state, South Cackalacky.
**Please scroll down to read quotes from the stories.
Videos about some of the stories:
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What advance readers are saying:
“We have all been in the company of cafe coffeedrinkers when someone tells a story, and it reminds someone else of something else, and that story is added to the heap, and another is told, then another, until the moment and the mood leaves us with a good and pleasing sensation. To me, these occasions are “Tellings.” They happen in hundreds of thousands of places every day in every place on Earth where people gather. And so it is with this ambitious anthology, Wild, Wonderful ‘n Wacky, South Cackalacky: True Stories about Life in South Carolina, fashioned by Sandy Richardson and Susan Doherty Osteen. The writers range in experience and in style, from simple memoir to creative hyperbole, but each offering is engaging and memorable. Read them with a cup of coffee, or a libation of your choice. You will swear you're in a familiar cafe with some talkative friends and being there, in that moment, is the only thing that matters.”
-Terry Kay, a 2006 inductee into the Georgia Writers Hall of Fame, is the author of 17 published works, including The King Who Made Paper Flowers, Song of the Vagabond Bird, The Greats of Cuttercane, Bogmeadow’s Wish, The Book of Marie, To Dance with the White Dog, The Valley of Light, Taking Lottie Home, The Kidnapping of Aaron Greene, Shadow Song, The Runaway, Dark Thirty, After Eli, and The Year the Lights Came On, as well as a book of essays, Special K: The Wisdom of Terry Kay, and two children's books, The Seventh Mirror and To Whom the Angel Spoke.
http://www.terrykay.com
www.amazon.com/Terry-Kay/e/B001HCZA0U
*****
“Hold on tight as you take this ride through South Carolina, past and present. These writers find stories everywhere--from personal and family memories to the waiting room of a doctor's office. Whether it is a wild tale of a drunken date gone wrong to a warm memory of snapping speckled butter beans with grandma—disrupted by the intrusion of ghost story—you’ll find yourself eagerly turning the pages for more.”
-Kathryn Smith of Anderson is the author of The Gatekeeper: Missy LeHand, FDR and the Untold Story of the Partnership that Defined a Presidency and is co-author, with Kelly Durham, of Shirley Temple Is Missing. For information on her books, go to
www.kathrynsmithwords.com
www.amazon.com/Kathryn-Smith/e/B001IU4VGA
*****
“Like Blues, Jazz, and Rock & Roll, great storytelling was born in the South. A region impoverished for most of its existence, the South has always been rich in creativity, individualism, and humor. In South Carolina, the gift of spinning a yarn has long been viewed as a gift on par with beauty, as it is the raconteur—not the belle of the ball—that draws the most attention. Within the pages of Wild, Wonderful
‘n Wacky, South Cackalacky, you’ll find the soul of South Carolina storytellers. No, not writers in the style of Faulkner or the prose of Conroy—these are the stories told on a veranda, or a picnic table, or on the front porch of a country store. Enjoy. I surely did.”
-Prioleau Alexander, Author, Dispatches Along the Way and You Want Fries With That?
www.amazon.com/Prioleau-Alexander/e/B001JS4Q5C
*****
“These stories of family, old traditions and wild adventures illustrate the history of South Carolina and its people in a way that is real, visceral and, at times, laugh out loud funny. You’ll see yourself, your friends and your relatives in these tall
tales of childhood, growing up and growing old.”
-Karen Dybis, author of The Witch of Delray and Better Made in Michigan
www.amazon.com/Karen-Dybis/e/B00NLY4LRA
Regionalism has been the hallmark of Southern Literature since the beginning. WILD, WONDERFUL 'n WACKY SOUTH CACKALACKY captures this delightfully; it is an outstanding reflection of local stories that characterizes South Carolina for outsiders.The writers have used settings to frame their stories to capture the South in its naked honesty: the lore, the magic, the mystery, the beauty. From the witch doctor to the wart remover, from the baloney sandwiches to smell of cured tobacco, from the haints of Daufuskie to a man called pearl, from a 70 year old band's creation to the state's dance, The Shag, the reader is drawn into the writer's narrative. "W W 'n W S C" is a read that fully entertains. J. Grady Locklear
The title & cover art were intriguing, and our family tree has roots in Peach &Pecan trees, so this book was a treat! Enjoyed the balance of humor, nostalgia, and the rich, sometimes quirky, language of South Carolina. You won’t be disappointed with this southern treasure! A. Kelly
Just buy this book. Trust me on this. You will not be disappointed. A delightful and uplifting collection of true short stories, which impress upon the reader that while our regional perspectives may be different, we are more alike than not. The experiences, beautifully crafted with the flavor of the South, are not at all unique to the South so will resonate with the reader no matter where you were raised. The stories are well written by authors you may not have heard of and even some first time authors. Some stories are gentile and nostalgic, while others are thought provoking and compelling. Still others are funny and just rather odd and creepy such as a Tom Thumb wedding where children are made to act out a marriage ceremony while the whole town looks on and participates. The entire book is a real page-turner; I could not put it down once I started. It has all the expected southern imagery such as possums, cornbread and Baptists, peppered with colorful southern vernacular but without the harmful and negative stereotypes of southern history culture that we unfortunately have seen on TV and in movies. This is truly a timeless, gentle feel good romp through South Carolina, mainly but not entirely during the second half of the 1900s. You will want to read these stories over and over. You will want to read these stories aloud to your friends and family. You will want to buy this book for yourself and others. Trust me on this. Carole C. Shealy
Review of Wild, Wonderful ‘n Wacky South Cackalacky: by Judy Millspaugh Anderson, M.D. (co-author of Kissing the Underbelly, XLibris, 2011.) I suspect many South Carolinians will buy this book because of the promise of a nostalgia “fix”, and they will not be disappointed. They are sure to find something they can relate to. The material in this anthology will remind them of things they experienced as they were growing up, or perhaps things their parents and grandparents told them about growing up in “South Cackalacky” in previous eras.
For me though, as a transplant from the far North, (where I was in turn a transplant from the Midwest) it was a window into my new adoptive culture. Everybody in the country learns the basics of regional differences. The West had “Indian wars”. California had the Gold Rush. New York had Ellis Island, with Italian, Irish and Jewish immigrants. OK, ho, hum. We’ve heard all of that. And the South had slavery, and then we had the Civil War, and they lost, right? But what does that tell me about the people I meet who were born several generations after all that? Not much. What went on between the Civil War and the present day? What sort of things shaped the lives of all the people I meet in my new home?
This book tells me. It presents the story of the South in the Twentieth Century, with detail and texture that will not be found in history books. I had read about the Orangeburg Massacre, but discovering that my friend Annette Reynolds had been there gave it a whole new dimension, and knowing that she’d been there added to my understanding of my friend.
Another friend, Barbara Covington, gave me a glimpse into what it feels like to swing on a porch glider on a languid Southern summer evening, which is as different from a bitter cold and icy Wisconsin winter as any childhood could be.
Similarly, those contributing authors that are not included among the friends I have found since moving here nevertheless add to my understanding of this culture that I joined late in life. This book is a glimpse into a rich and vibrant culture, and tells me far more about South Carolina and its people than any history book ever could.
I thoroughly recommend this book for native South Carolinians and for transplanted Yankees as well. You will want to read it more than once.
(I was provided an advance reader’s copy of this book. I received no payment or benefit for providing an honest review.)
This book is a treat - every bit as delicious as a banana popsicle on a hot summer afternoon. It made me want to put on my seersucker shortie pajamas and sleep on the porch! The writing is fabulous. Each and every writer skillfully captures and entertains you with their treasure of stories that told of a way of life that no longer is. Growing up in South Carolina during that period of time was not just a place that you happened to be at that point in your life. It was a culture that contained a spirit that penetrated deep into your soul and molded and shaped you into what you would later become. It was a slower, gentler, kinder time, a time of compassion, a time of deep love, dedication and commitment to family and friends. Yes, we are wacky here in South Carolina. Who else could have thought of the possum trot and the chitlin' strut. Our lives were filled with lots of silliness, laughter and an appreciation of the moment and the little things. This book should remind us and encourage us all to strive to have a bit more of that today. So, go fix that glass of sweet tea, sit down and read this book. Take a nostalgic trip down memory lane or catch a glimpse of what it was really like growing up in South Carolina "back then". You will be glad that you did. Oh, and bless your heart ya'll.
--Lynn Alessandro
Want to put down that cell phone, turn off the TV, and disconnect for a while from that constant barrage of all-so-important newsflashes that keeps us so frantic? Are you old enough to remember a time before? Do you remember the simple pleasure of sitting around the dinner table or relaxing on the back porch, listening to your grandparents and aunts and uncles reminiscing? Do you remember the thrill of their stories coming to life in your imagination?
If so, grab a copy of Wild, Wonderful 'n Wacky, South Cackalacky and journey with the authors as they share their memories with you. The title of the book says it all, and it will not disappoint!
--Claudette Barrington
“I was provided an advance reader’s copy of this book. I received no payment or benefit for providing an honest review.”
Really enjoyed the collection of stories. A great summer read! I would definitely recommend it. So well written. Martha Heckman
Wild, Wonderful n Wacky South Cackalacky is a fantastic read, full of regional tales that will make you wish you could explore all corners of our beautiful, history-laden South Carolina! Susan Osteen’s story, “Ghosts on Golf Carts” is a page-turner, forcing you to search trip advisor for travel plans to Daufuskie Island to experience the haints yourself. The contributors to this collection of stories are fantastic, knowledgeable, fun, and scintillating. Open up the book to discover the true oddities, mysteries, and joys of our South Carolina culture! Bronwyn M.
What an enjoyable read. Short stories that take you back to the good ole days through the minds of "when one was young"! The best part of this book is that one can read one story and leave the book to return to read the next one. One story will not be enough though as it will bring the picture of the time and day in which it is written to make you want to read another and another! Pictures always invoke the suggestion of the place being shared but this is not necessary for each read. "I was provided an advance reading copy of this book. I received no payment or benefit for providing an honest review." Kelly M.
I received an advanced reader's copy of this book. I received no payment or benefit for providing an honest review.
Caveats aside, this is a terrific book. The nostalgia for old South Carolina is especially vivid, with wonderful details about the food, toys, and pastimes of childhood. I could feel the heat and humidity on every page . Lynda D.
Wild, Wonderful 'n Wacky South Cackalacky is a delightful collection of short stories that portrays a true sense of what life is like living in the wonderful state of South Carolina. It is a fun read, packed full of adventures with southern flavor. I highly recommend this book! m. coulter
This is a wonderful collection of stories that paint a vivid picture of South Carolina life in bygone days. I could relate to them even though I grew up in a different part of the country. Some are humorous. Some are poignant. All are worth reading! G. Gates
Wild, Wonderful n’ Wacky, South Cackalacky dishes out a veritable feast of tales about days- mostly gone by-in South Carolina. Its wide ranging menu features everything from hunting, football and ghosts to family, religion and race-not to mention the surprise inclusion of circumcision.
Many of the stories are strong in terms of craft. All have a decided flavor of authenticity, and many are infused with inimitable Southern humor.
Perhaps the best part for the reader is the opportunity to savor sentences ripe with possibility, such as, “What smell? I don’t smell anything but blood, I said with a giggle.” L. Batarseh
What a delightful read! These stories give the reader a back porch view of what growing up in the Deep South in the fifties and sixties is all about. Tree swings, root doctors, skinny dipping, bean shelling, haints, and racial tension all make their appearances as these true Southerns navigate their way through the tricky business of becoming adults in a culture that is steeped in tradition and history. The characters talk openly and honestly with the reader about the gifts that the generations before them hand down to them. And about their coming to terms with what those gifts will mean to them, and to the generations after. by Elizabeth R.
Quotes from the stories:
(See author bios under SSPA Authors tab)
(See author bios under SSPA Authors tab)
"A Carpetbagger's Tale" by Pat Willer: "My God, Betty. You people even wear pearls to bed,” I gasped. ***** As a precaution, we both moved to the far side of the aisle, the metal cart between us and the strangely pink, oozy flesh color emanating from inside the glass. They looked like large, distended, chopped off thumbs, harvested from giants. I swear I saw them move. The label read: Herb’s Pickled Pigs Feet Our Feet Can’t Be Beat We fled with our cart through the checkout line and raced to our car. |
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"An Ordinary Life in Extraordinary Times"
by Annette Reynolds
And then, Larry and I watched as shots were fired, and fellow students fell to the ground. I heard a big boom after my friends fell, then several pops, and people yelling, “Stay down!”
From behind me, Larry screamed, “Run, Annette.”
*****
On the day that I arrived at Limestone College, all I saw was a sea of white faces. They all looked the same, and I could not distinguish individuals.
"An Ordinary Life in Extraordinary Times"
by Annette Reynolds
And then, Larry and I watched as shots were fired, and fellow students fell to the ground. I heard a big boom after my friends fell, then several pops, and people yelling, “Stay down!”
From behind me, Larry screamed, “Run, Annette.”
*****
On the day that I arrived at Limestone College, all I saw was a sea of white faces. They all looked the same, and I could not distinguish individuals.
"Joe’s Hole"
by Sammy Rhodes
Those same members went by nicknames, as unique and unusual as the men themselves. Names like: Blackie, Muddy, Skunk, Goosefoot, Slim, Cuz, Red, Spoony, Unc, Bubba Jim, Edibo, Pot,....
*****
In my mind, every twig or leaf that I touched below the water’s surface was a moccasin striking my naked little pecker making it swell up twice the size of me, or an alligator or turtle biting it completely off.
by Sammy Rhodes
Those same members went by nicknames, as unique and unusual as the men themselves. Names like: Blackie, Muddy, Skunk, Goosefoot, Slim, Cuz, Red, Spoony, Unc, Bubba Jim, Edibo, Pot,....
*****
In my mind, every twig or leaf that I touched below the water’s surface was a moccasin striking my naked little pecker making it swell up twice the size of me, or an alligator or turtle biting it completely off.
"Swamp Biscuits"
by Margaret Jean Bell
“Bless your heart. Don’t those look just good enough to eat?”
Her syrupy smile interrupted me mid-reach with the same
effect as a slap across my knuckles.
*****
As one inmate joked, “Think of this cheese as processed polyester, and you won’t be disappointed.” He laughed at his own joke and added, “I didn’t do so well as a car thief, but I’m a hell of a food critic.”
"The House Painter" by Brenda Remmes "There are priests who deal with exorcisms. Maybe she should contact one of them?” ***** “Smudging with white sage that you’ve lit to create smoke in every room will do it. Perhaps a circle of sea salt around the house if that didn’t work.” Two sisters offered to come over during the next full moon to help out. |
"Earmouths"
by Ryan Crawford
You get really honest with folks, and they’ll
turn on you every time.
*****
The expanding noise lacks the inherent rhythm
of nature. And yet, when I’m up there, I find a peace
I’ve been unable to find anywhere else.
"Waiting for Norman Rockwell"
by Gloria Dahl
Gideon asks nothing of anyone. He just sits and watches the highway, as though he
waits for something. He never appears to talk at length with anyone at the store. And
yet, the times I see him, he speaks to me without saying a word.
*****
He was a portrait waiting to be painted and placed within a frame. Waiting to be noticed.
"A Tent Meeting"
by Sherry Fasano
Shy, soft spring morphed into hot, steamy summer, requiring dawn until dusk labor,
and by summers end the body was exhausted, the soul weary.
"Carolina Afternoons"
A busy morning—we began right after breakfast moving root-bound plants that wintered in the flower house to long wooden tables in the backyard. As Nanny loaded a rusty wagon as full as it could get for one trip after another, I plundered underneath shelves through lamb shaped planters and pastel vases tangled in spider webs.
"Summer in the Sandhills"
Grandmama doled out a quarter to each of us to spend while she and Aunt Celia searched for hair-pins and cold cream. My cousins and I perused the toy aisle and fingered the cheap plastic toys until we all decided on the same thing. Most often, we chose miniature troll dolls with long rainbow colored hair, or small metal cars and trucks to add to our sand village.
"The School Chair Incident"
by Brian Cope
Paddling only to avoid downed logs or to navigate the sharp turns, we drifted with the current, tossing small spinning lures with ultralight rods and reels, catching redbreast, the brightly-colored panfish closely related to bluegill.
*****
The cypress trees lining the blackwater swamp were just beginning to bud,
sucking just enough water off the stream to make it fishable from our small
boats. He pointed toward shore where just off the water in the rich, black mud,
we spotted a large beaver standing upright, doing its best to hide behind a
small sapling that barely covered the animal’s face. A foot or more of the
beaver’s body protruded from both sides of the tree. But convinced it was
out of our sight, it peeked its head around and then quickly pulled it behind
the sapling again for fear of us spotting it.
"Sock Dancin' "
by Sandy Richardson
For several years, that candy was the only treat the children got, and Sammy Lee's music and dancing brought the people of the town a brief and welcome respite from the harshness of their lives.
"Believe"
Back then, eye-rolling had not been thought of as a way to express feelings; instead, we grew adept at arching one eyebrow, an expression inspired by the big-screen movie actresses at the time. Scarlett, herself, was particularly good at the expression.
"A Bushel and a Peck " by Kathryn Etters Lovatt Raw speckled beans glisten like semi-precious stones. They brandish the purples of amethyst, from pale lavender to veins shocked with port wine. They shine like opals, translucent gems traced with fire. From experience, I know this to be true, and I know that before their full array can be properly admired, a veritable heap of them must be shelled. ***** Time and again, she scared me speechless with body parts in cellars, whispers in the night, a dead woman tapping at the window. I can only suppose my mother allowed me to hear about people being buried alive because she wanted to hear about people being buried alive. In any case, these anecdotes could be depended upon to quicken the pace of our shelling. ***** My aunt—she of weak wrist and a Friday standing appointment with Audrey, queen bee of hair-dos and manicures in our small realm—usually showed up. We were begrudgingly glad to see her. |
"Tom Thumb"
by David F. McInnis, Sr.
Mr. Hugh Gregory, the owner of the warehouse, was a central figure in our town, and I was in love with his daughter, Sugarlump, whose real name was Elizabeth, the apple of her daddy’s
eye.
*****
Outside in my yard, Hugh Gregory, Jr., waited with his goat “One Eye.” The goat was called One Eye because he had a black circle around one of his eyes
"The Tonsillectomy"
Sometime during my fourth year, my mother broke the news that I was going to undergo a very exciting experience. My tonsils and adenoids would be removed to prevent the sore throats and sinus problems that had plagued my young life. But she neglected to mention I was also to be circumcised at the same time.
*****
The doctor advised my mother to sit me out in the yard with no clothes on below my waist and to place my wounded member directly in the sun. This would allow me to soak up the healing ultra violet light rays of the sun.
by David F. McInnis, Sr.
Mr. Hugh Gregory, the owner of the warehouse, was a central figure in our town, and I was in love with his daughter, Sugarlump, whose real name was Elizabeth, the apple of her daddy’s
eye.
*****
Outside in my yard, Hugh Gregory, Jr., waited with his goat “One Eye.” The goat was called One Eye because he had a black circle around one of his eyes
"The Tonsillectomy"
Sometime during my fourth year, my mother broke the news that I was going to undergo a very exciting experience. My tonsils and adenoids would be removed to prevent the sore throats and sinus problems that had plagued my young life. But she neglected to mention I was also to be circumcised at the same time.
*****
The doctor advised my mother to sit me out in the yard with no clothes on below my waist and to place my wounded member directly in the sun. This would allow me to soak up the healing ultra violet light rays of the sun.
"Summer Sounds"
by Barbara Covington
A foul, musty odor rose up to us when Mama opened the box. Three little biddies lay unmoving, not making a sound.
*****
This was a special place to play and sleep on hot nights. All we needed was one of
Mama's quilts for our bed, and we were set to enjoy gazing at the stars, listening to the frogs in the near-by pond, and to the loud sound of cicadas.
"The Footnotes: Story of a Beach Band"
by Johnny Hilton
And the surf, sand, and suds are a combination destined to bring on a party. It’s made many a mama worry about her daughter.
*****
With a shuffle beat and a shuffle step, and one’s free hand positioned as if holding a cold can of beer, the movements of The Shag are smooth and cool so as not to spill a drop.
by Johnny Hilton
And the surf, sand, and suds are a combination destined to bring on a party. It’s made many a mama worry about her daughter.
*****
With a shuffle beat and a shuffle step, and one’s free hand positioned as if holding a cold can of beer, the movements of The Shag are smooth and cool so as not to spill a drop.
"The Legend of a Good Man"
by L. Thomas-Cook
Gossip of what had occurred spread like mosquitoes on a rainy night. Once the white citizens of Spartanburg heard that one of their own had been violated, they took guns, axes, bats, and canes straight to the jail house.
*****
Later Gage was reported to say, “A case like this not only tries the prisoner at the bar, but it even tries the very integrity of our institutions.”
"Ghosts on Golf Carts"
by Susan Doherty Osteen
I saw a forgotten room, a meeting hall crumbling
away beneath the elements, benches torn apart by animals, or
maybe the weather, paint worn off the wall, trees moving in
through busted windows, and a dilapidated staircase rising up to darkness.
*****
Hags, or boo hags as they are often called, are much more sinister. These evil creatures are more vampire than ghost,feeding on breath instead of blood. At night they discard their skin and slip through the smallest keyhole or crack, searching for victims. Borrowing breath is called “riding,” and the hags will ride someone until dawn when they must return to their skin or be destroyed by the light
*****
As I floated to sleep, I had the sensation I could not breathe. I remember telling myself to wake up, and I was quite aware I was having a strange dream in a strange bed on a strange island. But I could never quite pull myself into wakefulness, and the sense of suffocating lasted until 9 a.m. when Donny rapped on my door.
"My Third Ear"
by Jay Wright
Okay.” The receptionist moved to another blank space, paused, raised one eyebrow and tilted her head. “Old Schoolhouse Road? I’m not familiar with that road name.”
Grandmommy leaned on the desk. “Hon, it’s not fifteen miles from right here. Remember that old Pentecostal Church that was hit by lightnin’ and burned slap down to the ground?”
“No, Ma’am.”
Grandmommy waved her hand forward, barely missing the receptionist’s cheek. “Probably ‘fore your time, Hon. Come to think of it, I believe Reagan was President. Anyhow, that’s the road we live on. Next question. ”
*****
“Are you currently using birth control pills?”
I watched as Grandmommy’s glare became a scowl, and her posture stiffened. “Hon, really. God-a-mighty. ”
"A Day's Journey"
by Martha Greenway
“Turn around and head back yonder way—like you was going back to Sumter. Watch for the Hardee’s on your right but don’t stop there…the best burgers are back off Main at the Dairy Queen. You need to turn right onto Broad Acres Road, but make sure you don’t turn before, or you’ll end up in the town cemetery.”
*****
He continued the activity night after night. Before he knew it, he had completely covered his jacket, trousers, and hat with buttons. He went on to cover a coffin, a Chevrolet Chevette, and even a toilet with buttons.
by Martha Greenway
“Turn around and head back yonder way—like you was going back to Sumter. Watch for the Hardee’s on your right but don’t stop there…the best burgers are back off Main at the Dairy Queen. You need to turn right onto Broad Acres Road, but make sure you don’t turn before, or you’ll end up in the town cemetery.”
*****
He continued the activity night after night. Before he knew it, he had completely covered his jacket, trousers, and hat with buttons. He went on to cover a coffin, a Chevrolet Chevette, and even a toilet with buttons.
"Legacy"
by Dale Barwick
By the time I came along in the early ‘60s, many things and ways of life in the South had changed, even people, but my daddy wasn't one of them.
*****
Raised during a time when women didn’t wear pants, much less camouflaged ones, it didn’t occur to him to take me hunting. Perhaps he thought a girl couldn’t keep up, would make too much noise, would become bored, or would get upset at the sight of a dead animal. But each time he flung open the kitchen door after a hunt, rubbing his cold hands together and smelling like the sweet woods, I longed to go where he had been.
What Horse?
by John Beckham
“I’m going to get out.” I said.
“Ok,” she replied, pulling over to the shoulder,
a beautiful smile on her face.
I opened the door and stumbled out. “I’m getting out…” I drawled.
“Bye!” She punched the accelerator, the car door slammed shut,
and I was staring at my girlfriend’s tail lights as she sped away.
*****
Her teeth looked like someone stuffed firecrackers in her mouth and sewed her lips shut.