Free Oral Health Tips That You Should Know

We all want a great set of gnashers. Whether it’s for helping to catch a special someone’s eye or for eating the foods we enjoy like that piece of steak smothered in something rich to quick fix honey roasted peanuts. A winning smile is as useful as it is pleasing to the eye.

Read on for small tips that will get you results and make you an instant hit with your Dentist. If you don’t have a Dentist well what are you waiting for?

Okay, so let’s begin with toothbrushing.

You’re probably thinking easy. Twice per day get a toothbrush load some toothpaste on it and brush, quick rinse and job done.

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Well not so fast… get out of the habit of rinsing your mouth after brushing your teeth. Toothpaste should not be rinsed off your teeth. Spit and skip the rinse to get the most benefit out of the fluoride especially when doing the second brush before bed (yes the second brush should be before bed if you missed that hint). The fluoride toothpaste will help reduce bacteria levels whilst you snooze.

Check your regular tube of toothpaste in your bathroom or wherever you store it. Make sure your fluoride levels start at ‘1350ppm’ for adults and children 7yrs and older (up to 1500ppm is enough fluoride). Children 3-6yrs only require a pea-sized amount of children’s 1000ppm fluoride toothpaste. Children under 3yrs only require a smear of 1000ppm fluoride toothpaste.If you’re already on a higher fluoride prescription skip this tip.

Why do you need this much fluoride?

Well fluoride is the only mineral, which is scientifically proven to prevent caries (bacterial breakdown of your teeth) that can lead to cavities (holes in your teeth) or worse tooth loss.


Pic from


Pic from

Spend at least two minutes brushing and make contact with each surface of your teeth and gently sweep the area where the gums meet the teeth too.


1. Outside (surface that faces inside of lips or cheeks)

2. Inside (surface closest to the tongue or palate, which is the roof of your mouth)

3. Bite (surface of teeth that meets opposing teeth)

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Don’t forget to gently brush the margin; the point where the gums meet your teeth (see pic 1. above) and your tongue.

Food and Drink

Oral bacteria mixed with the sugars in the food and drinks that we consume can build up there creating the white film called ‘plaque’ and if this is not brushed away it hardens. When hardened the plaque calcifies, this stubborn adhesive bacteria is called tartar and cannot be removed by regular brushing. Tartar will need a trip to the Dentist to be removed by scaling.

Twice a year scaling appointments with your Dentist or Hygienist will set you on the right track.

Also don’t forget to floss between teeth or use interdental brushes to remove trapped food as some plaque and food debris is missed when brushing. Plaque disclosing tablets found at any local pharmacy, will show you the areas where plaque has been left make friends when you brush your teeth. The former tablets will help you to improve your brushing technique.

How you eat can also help your smile.

Think of frequency.

Don’t start and stop with the sweet of choice and no saving for later or tomorrow like you might of been told when you were little. Yippee!!!

Yes eat your sweet treat or drink your carbonated fizzy beverages in one go. Preferably with your meals like lunch or dinner if you have the space in your stomach.

That way the teeth get one acidic hit and will be less like to remove a microscopic layer of your enamel. Eating too many citrus items like lemons without following with water can have the same effect over time. You might not be so quick to do this if you don’t have any pain but after 3 or 4 periods of eating or drinking per day the enamel gets demineralised. Your saliva does help to bring the PH back into a neutral range but over time the yellow dentin below begins to show through making your teeth appear more sunset yellow than the sought after pearly whites. Berries also contain vitamin C and can be swapped for some of your citrus choices.

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Wait at least 30mins after a meal to brush your teeth. This will reduce the likelihood of removing a microscopic layer of enamel and your teeth turning yellow or becoming sensitive sooner.

Food items, which help to cleanse your mouth include:








Plain yogurt

Other than the plain yogurt and sometimes pears it may be a helpful reminder to think of raw foods, which are crunchy in texture.

Drink alternatives:

Water (unflavoured)

Milk (unsweetened)

If you’re an avid tea drinker that likes your sugar, try a sweetener instead of your teaspoon or plural of sugar to give your teeth a break.

Here’s to wishing you many years with a breathtaking smile. 😉

All the best



Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2018<

Link to more oral health information

MAAAN!!! A MAN (part 2)

…but was urged by Gloria to let Omar be, which was a good decision considering Omar shortly returned with a small weirdly shaped ball in hand. The Prince enthusiastically guzzled an entire positivity potion save for a few drops, placing the empty bottle near the rocking penguins. The swirl of purple vapour from the rim of the bottle made some of the penguins tumble into a emotive dance piece and others sing to a gleeful faster pace. 

The potion didn’t appear to work on Omar, whose blank expression caused him to fade into the background of his own merry occasion. I won’t comment on whether Omar was making a universe out of a planet but I do know that though he sat in his royal chair he wasn’t at his party for long. Distant eyes and thoughts of yonder clouded him, Omar yearned for a state of uncertainty and surprise. Challenges he could practise or even be forced to train towards and the feelings that danced with accomplishment. Oh yes, Omar would have swapped a limb to escape the monotony of the royal expectations he could readily meet. It’s not known whether he sufficiently understood the transformation of what he frequently proclaimed to want but away from his parents in the confines of his room Omar would regularly mutter about his frustration with great enthusiasm. Quietly disappointed and still with his unmoved face on, Omar bounced the ball he made from the surplus of stretchy hair ties in his mother’s miscellaneous storage chest. On the third bounce the ball hit the hard edge of the nearby steps and quickly took off ping-ponging around the hall. Omar ballistically sprang from his spot too as he walked amongst the crowd in search of his creation only stopping to spin an admirer, listen to an elder or shake hands with kingdom friends.

Meanwhile, through the mixed crowd the ball zipped and zagged both under and over the heads, arms and legs of different species. Each rebound only seemed to quicken the dance of the object in flight as it spun towards the grand cake. Jumping to improve his view, whilst appearing to enjoy the skill of the royal musicians Omar followed the ball with his eyes and his feet. Right before the ball was due to rocket through the tiers of the cake, it suddenly disappeared. Omar leaned forward in disbelief, relieved for the apparent miracle but still assessing his view of the odd event and hoping to get a glimpse of his creation. Ever closer to the cake and under the ruse of immersion in the atmosphere, he had not managed to locate the ball. Omar wearily sulked back to his royal chair with disappointment. It took Omar quite some time to make the lively ball, though he lost it in less time than a blink of…seconds.

The thundering clang!!! and grind of heavy metal joints marked the opening of the grand hall doors, from the distance of his seat Omar made out the shadow of a small hunched figure that transitioned into a larger slip of a person the closer they came. The royal guests gasped and parted instinctively to make way for the limping ol…other. As the white cloak came down off the figure’s head and granted the hall good view, the cloak flashed the coat of a big cat then turned black. I wondered whether it was a reversible coat…I mean Omar wondered of course. The room was flabbergasted by the presence of Moilinere with his awful walk and creaky horse voice, no one would have suspected that someone of five hundred and eighty years so he claimed could look so…so…visibly sprightly. Although it should also be told that before this moment no one had ever bothered to converse with the man in the white cloak, which was now made black for the occasion. The people of Jicotea were afraid of Moilinere since his appearance in the kingdom but not because of his previous posture and not so much the scratchy voice he usually kept but because he defied all boundaries of understanding regarding the relationship between white garments and mud on such herbaceous land. To them only masterful sorcery could explain how Moilinere managed to remain so impeccably clean in all the boiling, blistering and balmy climates the kingdom offered. As Moilinere casually strode ever closer to the Prince the crowd grew unanimously silent and the royal band noisily cut their play, vibrating pans still shook in an attempt to slow ding… ding… ding. Awkward. Gloria tidily drifted to the seat on the left of her son and George still part of the crowd extended a powerful hand that equally blocked and braced Moilinere’s chest. 

‘That is far enough. What brings you here?’ George queried, his smooth vibrato echoed causing the glass objects in the room to shake and a tiny sliver of the antique chandelier to crack then descend to the floor. The nearby crowd jumped or flinched but mostly pretended not to notice anything it was not a new experience with their King and their cleaning team speedily disappeared as fast as they had appeared.

‘I am here for the Prince.’ A trail of opened mouths like domestic fish against a tank met the reply from Moilinere, the room waited for king George’s response as he dropped his hand. 

‘I believe you may have missed the error with your plan.’ George calmly stepped back and walked to his chair right of Omar whilst gesturing to his rows of muscle that surfaced from within the crowd and others from everywhere but nowhere detectable. He too was cautious of Moilinere. The Moilinere appeared unfazed by the presence of the royal guards and revealed a flat but golden key in his outstretched left hand. He spoke only for the Prince and made no eye contact with anyone else,

‘I heard what you asked but could not bring it, four five nine one do not forget to flip it.’ The Moilinere fell silent after this utterance and remained in the same position until the Prince left his chair and took the card like golden key. He briefly inspected it once in his possession and when he looked up Moilinere was halfway across the hall. Omar called to him ‘Thank you’ and questioned what the key would open but Moinlinere only repeated his instructuons and left. Omar frowned mystified by the encounter, he was covertly comforted to look around and see that others including his parents where just as puzzled or weary by the Moilinere’s visit. The penguins shrugged and the tigers sunk to a lying position few paws covered their eyes (they also mentions that they would eat me if I included this part but I will take this risk to deliver the real story). The Prince regained the seat between his parents and his Father summoned the royal musicians to resume playing. Initial movements were tentative but eventually the attendees were ebullient and joyous again. 

It was late at night when Omar was roused by the intermittent flash of light in his room, he covered his head with his royal sheets in quick protest to rising from his bed. However, he was no match for the heat conducted by his blankets and soon found it quite a feat to feel like he was still breathing. Omar relented and lowered the sheets from over his head and was blasted with the glare of light, he could have sworn that the source was brighter this time. Finally, sitting up in bed he noticed that the bright disturbance was coming from the same spot where he left the key from Moilinere. Omar attempted to dispose of key many times during his birthday jollification but largely to no avail, the Prince was forced to keep the key. Irrespective of how he tried to rid himself of the key, it would always return to him. He gently placed the key on the soil of a plant but it when he stood, the key was right there stuck to his fingers. Gloria asked her son whether he was feeling okay as Omar held a peculiar expression, sweat beads formed on his temples. Omar nodded and mimed that he was hot and needed a drink, which his Mother personally brought to him. He thanked his Mother, took a sip claiming to feel miraculously better. With the Queen satisfied with her son’s reasoning,  she gave him space to enjoy himself and rejoined her husband who was making some interesting moves. A relieved Omar dropped the key into the drink and poured it down the room’s connection to the drainage system, upon discarding the cup he noted that the key was now fixed to the back of his hand. He danced through the mass of people with his hands up in the air feigning that he was completely invested in the music and contributing to the dance floor. The Prince drew closer to his destination still pulsing his hands in the air and busting moves, as others joined him and imitated his shapes. 

Directly below the source of his intention, Omar held his hands up towards the suction port of the air conditioning system and the key flew away. This elicited a sigh of relief from him, only for the key to swiftly reappear on the tip of his nose. Omar quickly removed it hoping no one would notice and made his way to the other side of the hall, where he pushed open a window and pelted it outside. He watched with exuberant anticipation willing that to be the last action required, the key glided away then plummeted. The Prince was elated he really believed that the key had met its match, until an attendee complimented him on his artistic key shaped hair tie. Omar yanked the key from his hair and dropped it begrudgingly into his pocket, it remained there until the end of the night and the last guest had left. I know this because I saw Omar repeatedly checked this throughout the night. Initially he placed a hand inside his pocket but when the key stuck to his fingers and revealed its presence during a handshake with spiritual leader, he apologised profusely and resorted to tapping his pocket instead. 

In the comfort of his room, Omar removed his blankets then his sheets and got out of bed. Pulling his nearby robe on, the key glowed brighter and brighter. The room was flooded with a squint inducing fluorescent rush. The Prince instinctively shielded his eyes to get closer to the key and with each step forward he was rewarded, as the key reduced its visual onslaught. Brief summary of the next scene; I have absolutely no reason that might explain why the Prince decided he needed to check what would happen if he walked back to bed again…twice sigh. When Omar finally grew bored of the back and forth illumination game with the key he marched over and picked it up, a strong gust of wind whipped around the Prince whoosh!!! The key proceeded to pull him with the strength of a hurricane out of his own bedroom window. I was grabbed mid air and placed inside the Prince’s robe pocket and during my first peek (that would last until we landed back on the ground) I saw the key’s light melt through the glass and make a boy sized hole that we could fit through. The same hole instantly repaired as if what I witnessed was merely imagined once we were clear of it, outside. Flying through the air, much like a bird only several beasts faster. 

As we landed, I poked my head out of the robe pocket and saw that the key was guiding the Prince towards a dusty brown chest. The aged chest caused a murky grey cloud of dust to embrace the air and him to splutter on inhalation. I might have missed something else as I waited for the Prince to remove his shielding hand, when he finally did I quickly took another furtive look. The key tapped on the lock of the chest then secured itself to Omar’s fingers, he used the key to unlock the chest. It rattled mid air zipping round in circles and twists then hummed, coughing out colourful gases that sounded like expelled wind but thankfully without the unpleasant smell. The brown chest transformed into a steam elevator. A single short ring!!! produced an advance technology panel that was at least a century ahead of the elevator. The futuristic access pad showed no clear numbers but when Omar pressed a square on the pad a number appeared on the screen, the Prince figured out that the numbers were scrambled and did not ascend as would be expected. I half assumed it was a memory game until I noticed that Omar was stroking his finger tips across the access pad, the numbers had to be felt not read…my, my, my what a clever guy. The Prince entered 459 1 but it was denied probably because of the space between the last numbers right so he removed the offending numbers and tried again. He typed 4591 on his second go but this code was also denied so with last chance Omar closed his eyes for a few seconds and mumbled,

‘Something, something, something 4591 do not forget to…’ Just as I was about to get weirded out, his eyes flickered open with the look of realisation, the I have the answer and silly me look. The Prince entered 1954 this time and the elevator doors drew open, he curiously entered the elevator and the doors shut scarily close behind him. Any slower and it seemed likely that Omar would have become as thin and flat as the golden key. The noise made Omar jump but he quickly recovered to give the impression that he was unbothered, whilst he checked that I was okay. The elevator travelled slowly, ever so gradual that if it wasn’t for the eventual ding! marking each floor I would not have known that it was moving at all. By the third floor the Prince’s enthusiasm waned almost completely to be replaced by impatient tapping, lying down, and inevitable slumber. We woke to a strange voice; simultaneously echoey and close as if made from inside the elevator but when we glanced around no one was found. It pleased Omar to see the elevator’s seventh button lit up, it indicated that we had passed that floor. The Prince identified the voice,

‘Moilinere!!!…Where are you?’ He persisted to give the elevator another once over before the voice resumed. 

‘Yes it is me but do not look for me, I will not take this journey with you. Prince Omar Fane of Jicotea you have asked for challenge and adventure so I have granted your heart’s desire, as my gift to you on your birthday.’ The Prince nodded pleased with his present and there was a remarkable yet slight tremor in the right corner of his lips but no smile became of it. 

‘Should you meet this occasion you shall be a great ruler but…’ The Moilinere faltered and the pause made the Prince quite concerned. An expression that I had never witnessed before crept across his face then bloomed. 

‘But what?!!’ Omar was very lively with his hand movements; they told of support for the sense of urgency in his speech. The Moilinere’s second period before speaking made the atmosphere worrisome for the Prince.

‘You must throw yourself into this task for should you fail to help the opportunity of change before you, then you will be unable to return to Jicotea.’ The Moilinere cleared his throat as Omar replied,

‘What do you mean unable to return…as in like never? I didn’t ask for this. Moilinere!!! This isn’t what I asked for…Moilinere what have you done?…Answer me!!!’ Omar futilely demanded…

Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017 All rights reserved.

Image by bridgemanart

If you missed part 1

The Daily Post Prompt – Pursue

All the best

Teherah xXx


It’s custom to bow when in the presence of the Fane family. Sorry, hold on just a second…the Fane family came from an illustrious royal lineage of kings, queens, emperors and caciques in fact no longer than that if you could just close your eyes and wander further…yes that’s better. Do you see that family huddled so peacefully, serenely immersed in the sounds of their surroundings? Okay stop you’re going to trip and get us caught, come back now before they see us and please try not to stare so much. 

We’ll just blow those thoughts away and focus on the family tree before us. Right where was I?!! Yes, the Fane family still ruled the land of Jicotea as the borders changed, the landscape transformed and new developments emerged. Picture a civilisation quite similar to yours but slightly more rural and spiritual; fortunate with the smells of moist earth, sweet ripening produce and the echoes of sheep between the mountains. I kid you not, apologies that’s a goat joke but you know what I mean. Herds and herds of livestock…no just sheep. Noisy, bleating puffs of mischief. Why sheep you ask? Well, what else would you supply to kingdom built on its experimentation and reputation for turning out the warmest winter wears: home, sport and arctic fashions. Jicotea also churned out the most succulent lamb stew, the meat just falls off the bone ever so delicately like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. You have to be quick with every bite to—OUCH!!! Clive hates it when I talk about meat…it’s probably because he’s a turtle. 

Okay back to the story and yes I will make haste, by the looks of it you don’t have time for any other distractions. I present to you the Fanes…Queen Gloria Fane so quiet, so sweet, so smiley and so stealthily neat. Her attributes balanced by that of King George Fane, historians what do you say a nice solid name eh? Hmm…never mind, George wasn’t always angry and nor was he that messy but we could be proud he was a fair leader just… EXTREMELY LOUD! Insert a few more exclamation marks and then times that by ten or perhaps alternatively you could envision how you would sound talking into a megaphone every time you spoke. He bellowed but interestingly he’s wasn’t burly. Now if you could quickly cast your eyes to the centre of the picture follow my pointer…yes there you can see quite a handsome young chap between them. I agree he does look quite miserable but I promise it’s nothing to do with his parents, unlike the children on a planet we know. Don’t say anything just wink if you got it. 
Sorry, I’ll just get back to the story now. Omar Fane. Though he was talented, intelligent and somewhat pleasant to look at (if you like human faces that is) he had lost his smile. Alas, every royally commissioned portrait was plagued with his devastating array of embarrassing expressions and abandoned to this library by aggrieved artists promising to never paint for the royal family again. I can still hear the terror of the many snapped easels, torn canvases and wasted paint pots the solid paints were cut like cheese and discarded so local children could make stilt shoes out of the materials in preparation for the seasonal festivals. 

With his thirteenth birthday passing Omar, still had not smiled since his fourth birthday. Yes, rustle I have proof hold on…bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang! Have a look, closer see here’s Omar at four years old. I agree, he looks…cute for a human and what I have laid before you are the nine portraits after his fourth birthday. What do we have here? Let’s peruse further: snot, something like a wolf howl, apparent fury, tears, frown, a frightening scowl, embarrassment, distracted stare and this year’s indifference, forlorn or maybe despair for all that is obvious he wasn’t a happy bunny. Although, I must admit I have never been able to tell by their expression alone whether a bunny was indeed happy. For his thirteenth birthday his parents sort to rectify this hiccup in historical art, by throwing Omar a party. They invited esteemed guests and subjects from kingdoms both awkwardly near (we won’t get into politics) as well as those from kingdoms excessively far (yes possibly in need of a medic and nourishment upon arrival). 

Now picture the fancy royal celebration, marking Omar’s new year of existence and the joyous procession of glad attendees presenting their best offerings to the prince. All hoping to be the one to coax a smile to the prince’s mouth. The lesser known painters of Jicotea were all at the ready paint brushes or charcoal in hand, canvases propped or held and ready for action but no smile came. Just to elaborate on the seriousness of their predicament let’s run through the gifts that Omar received but hardly even blinked. Silence. Followed by a polite ‘Thank you’ from the prince, as the royal band repeatedly cut the music so that his every royal ‘Thank you’ could be heard. I have to say that it was quite humorous at the beginning of the routine but by the twentieth gift there were doubles, triples and quadruples of presents already witnessed so I grew bored and sampled the food instead. Omar received: one gold carrying elephant, two diamond earrings, three silk robes, four positivity potions, five marriage proposals, six pyramids (that he would have to visit to ensure his faced was carved in likeness), seven private planes each with a new pilot, eight warrior horses, nine get out of war free cards, ten tigers for his land borders, eleven private submarines, twelve rockstar penguins, thirteen gold woven royal suits and fourteen blue doves for good luck. Did I say twenty, maybe I might have missed a few but c’mon I was pretty close considering that was all from memory. Hey! It’s not about us pay attention to the story…George and Gloria were concerned when no sooner had the enormously extravagant birthday cake been cut Omar slipped away from his own party. George shouted…okay called to his son….

Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017

Art by Julian Caldow

If you want more there’s part 2

All the best 

Teherah xXx


(Lip pic from

Zip It Challenge 

I typically share fiction nowadays but I thought it might be fun to share a new personal challenge. It’s one thing to offer advice but it’s another to actually use it so I will work towards the change I want to see in myself. I want to as they say “be about it” and well, I agree if I’m going to tell everyone that they can become whatever they want then surely I should challenge myself to be more proactive and mindful…

Reading self help books?…NO, been there done that.

Exercising more?…NO, again I kind of do a sustainable amount already. 🤣

Changing my diet? Umm, yeah how about… NO!

I will be focusing on my communication specifically the content of my conversations. In short I have officially banned myself from complaining. 

Yep, you’ve heard me correctly. As much as I would love to reference some current  political and social issues as a reason why a good old moan sometimes takes over, I will be retraining my brain to deal with everyday stressors as a task to immediately resolve. I hope to eventually become largely unmoved by the nonsense of everyday events. This does not by any means suggest that I will be emotionally unaffected by events but that by the month mark of zipping it I want to be less susceptive to heightening negative experiences and simultaneously more aware of positive aspects in my surroundings. 

Why am I doing this?

Well because before most changes in life there is always that moment of awareness and clarity. Then it is left up to the person to decide whether they will tolerate and continue or rewrite the script. In my case I became very sensitive to the toxic ramblings of a colleague. This guy was always complaining and bemoaning something. It’s easy to say “ignore” but when there is not one day where you can avoid this person, dissuade or interject in a way that cuts him off it gets slightly complicated. What I really wanted to say was…

Pic from

However, after a second thought…or maybe the third I realised that the real issue wasn’t so much the obvious habit of the guy (that constantly wanted me to listen to:

  • The many ways in which this world was so unfair to him.
  • The numerous reasons why our colleague should not have been promoted before him and the obvious reason why our colleague was promoted.
  • Whether I wanted his job and was I sure that I didn’t want it. Then of course I could have his job because he would be leaving soon. Two months later he’s hasn’t left. 

….sigh it’s sad because on the rare occasions when he’s not making those comments he’s good company.  🤦🏾‍♀️
No, as trying as it was to work so closely with this guy it was the day that I found myself complaining to a relative that provided the catalyst for change. Nearing the end of a conversation about something trivial that wouldn’t mark the end of the world, I suddenly heard my work colleague leave my lips. Upon realising that I was unnecessarily ranting just like the guy at work I laughed (seemingly hysterically I presume), as my family looked at me quizzically and queried if I was okay. I informed them that I was just fine and elaborated on what I found so amusing. 

Anyway after this quite recent epiphany, I vowed to stop complaining and I’m on………

day three of this personal #zipitchallenge


Day 1

Interactions slightly changed on my end as I went much of the day only talking about everyday experiences or new interests. When asked about harder incidents I would share up to the point where I felt myself annoyed. At which point I would acknowledge the annoyance related emotions but not rant. This day I was more centred on what I was doing and saying, quite a new experience for me typically I prefer to listen to others. 

Day 2

I’m beginning to hear when others are about to let their emotions get the better of them and was able to get a friend to acknowledge this. I also slipped up in that conversation and took on their upset (the reason was awful) but hey no excuses it’s a process and I was committed to doing better the next day. 

Day 3

I woke up earlier without feeling exhausted. I’m starting to look at unfavourable experiences like an avid gamer, more focused on establishing resolution and alternatives to get by. I have been more productive today already. 

Not a quick overhaul but then I can’t knock this challenge just yet because three days in and I’m already benefitting in small but remarkable ways. Especially, when you consider that this process has cost me nothing. 

I hopefully my loved ones will offer some input on whether they have noticed anything different at a later date. I won’t tell them about the challenge to keep it authentic. I endeavour to keep a diary and come back to share more days on this blog so watch this space…

(Pic from Pinterest, I would change ‘most’ to some but it still drives the point home.)

Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017

If you know someone who might not want to admit it but might need a quiet prompt please share this. I didn’t have this awful habit before I took the job so I’ll leave the complaining to reality shows. 

What you do in life is your choice…I chose change. Happy midweek!!! 

All the best

Teherah xXx

Quo (Story)

Just outside, the flock thrashed wildly at the barrier between their prey. Loud, sporadic indentations formed solid bubbles of oncoming savagery. Resharn flipped his bed on its side to create a shield and positioned his decoy scarecrow behind the crook of the right side. He jumped to reach the bar above the latch and used his feet to create the momentum that would allow him to swing his body into the cramped crawl space above the entrance of his base. The heavily repetitive impact of the enemy was quickly replaced by clumsy gliding and the clatter of items caught in their path; shelves were dislodged, equipment upturned and furnishings torn, made damp or strewn during inspection. The beady eye or two appeared to hone in on Resharn as he quietly listened to the racket of his own encased machine. In no time the birds dissected the inner layers of the mattress and flapped wildly, squawking their frustration at the docile figure trapped behind the bed frame. Resharn reached back inside the carrier tube and pulled out two laced arrows, he was careful not to make contact with the paralysis inducing solution as he positioned one arrow and observed for a slither of an opportune moment.

Resharn knew his shot would have to be accurate and his hands would need to seamlessly coordinate the attack, otherwise too great a sound could lead to him being consumed. Rare. The birds continued to flap and butt the bars of the bed frame as they tried to remove it from its lodgings in the wall, fiercely determined to capture the stuffed human-shaped mound. Resharn’s finger appreared to hold their nerve as he pinched the back of one arrow and sent it zipping almost invisible into a bird. The quick and fatal shot sent the animal neatly on its back like a domino piece. Again Resharn drew an arrow and sent a shot cleanly through the space and then the top of another beastly bird. As he reached back for more arrows a bird’s beak nearly took his eye out but just above his brow he felt the wet warmth drip and collect in the hairs, Resharn involuntarily touched the area and looked at his fingers to observe the blood from the fresh wound site. The bird bit down on his hair and tugged strands in its retraction of the neck to stay in motion, Resharn called out in pain as he hit it to free himself then used his hands to crouch as low as he could go into the crawl space. He couldn’t hold the position for long and soon his bent leg position became unbearable, the cramp in his knees was too great to withstand he would be forced to fight back. 

The birds were waiting; beaks noisily colliding with the entrance of his cramped barrack as they peered in, pecked and protested his challenge. Four birds and three arrows, Resharn could not afford to waste a single shot but the pain in his legs only grew worse the longer he attempted to remain. He forced himself forward and met the stench of a scavenging bird, the beak locked down on Resharn’s hood and he had to hook his feet around the lodged bow to spare himself from being immediately taken. The strength of the birds coming together to pull him out, made Resharn feel like the discs of his spine would easily shatter like glass. Resistance was excruciating as the back of his neck became raw and his arms threatened to be pulled from their sockets. Resharn bit down on his t-shirt in a last ditch effort to think of a different ending. Just as the birds’ pulled roughly and he felt his boots slip, Resharn threw his hands upwards. Balled fists to the line marking the start of the crawl space and wriggled one hand then the other free of the hooded top. He heard the crack and snap of danger in his left arm and wriggled it beside him as way of assessing that it wasn’t fractured oh good he thought to himself. Resharn stomped on the bow to free it from its horizontal fixing and quickly pinched an arrow that he sent into the hoodie masked brute. The bird rapidly fell with a resounding flop!!! A wing tried to flap but soon became motionless. One bird nuzzled their dead companion and gently removed the hoodie, whilst the other let out a terrifying shrill and rounded on Resharn. He knew he had angered the animal that left its spot and swiftly head-butted the inner roof of his crawl space. The bird moved intentionally at such a speed that he nearly received the hit, Resharn slithered as the mixture of fright and extertion yielded moist hands that required greater effort to propel his body backwards. The quick double thuds and sqwarks told Resharn that the birds would not stop until they had him. Resharn sighed and wiped the stickiness from his left hand then turned the arrow over and took another shot, as a bird banged into the entrance again. Resharn missed. His left hand tingled then became heavy as Resharn wracked his brain for his next move.  He shuffled forward with the carrier tube and watched the birds hit the surface and retreat then repeat until he heard…no signs of retaliation except that of the wind. Resharn waited a few more seconds. He used his made clumsy left hand to scrape the fluid collected on the side of the tube, which he transferred to the ceiling of the hiding place and began to smear. A bird launched another attack this time meeting his fingers with such force that Resharn was sure to have heard the fracture, the bird pecked scratching at the floor of the space to get closer to him but failed only smudging more fluid on its head. It flapped a few times as it disappeared from view. 

Resharn felt the fingers of his left hand become numb as he failed to grasp his last arrow. He cupped it instead in an infantile manner and pushed it out in front of him, then he palmar grasped the bow. Arrow in right hand he struggled to shuffle forward until he could see over the side and assess what was below…
Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017

Pic from:
Here’s a link to part 1 if you missed it.

Have a great weekend and all the best.
Teherah xXx

Speak Like You Know Me (Discussion and Poem)

Pic from

Speak Like You Know Me

Femme fatale, vixen, temptress, siren, seductress find the worthy noun. 

Part of the same crowd.

Subjected, rejected and used. 

Perhaps that what you mean by unexplainably obtuse.

The overlooked, 

Heralded responsible or nurturing. 

Saved by the measures that the fearless championed.


Abused and tortured, 

The outright obscene and emotive.

Smaller pieces,

Quickly chipped and when loose… they erased your daughters.

Effortlessly vulnerable,

Equally uncomfortable and immediately defensive. 


Survival instincts,


Let’s make links. 

The ease of a model pupil, 

Linguistic tendencies or opinions?

Thoughts still stew a stumbling mess. 

Considering overhaul,

Strategic strewed scripts but no change of address. 

Colourful hues of life, 

The palette before the green rise. 

Embraced by literature,

Renewed with conviction and direction. 

Somewhat steady.

Challenged by the extent of the social infection.


I know you got that.

More to my message than do I look cute? Can you buy this?  

Or is my afat?

The Mother, the Father, the Sister, the Brother, the Aunt, the Uncle and the Grandparent. 

Not simple but done,


Even if I lost my last of everything and the systems ceased to exist.

The procession of hands dealt.

Experiences passed but readily felt.

I still have a way to go…

I am a woman and that’s what I want you to know. 

Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017

All the best 

Teherah xXx

That Spark!!!

Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2016

Okay so this is what I’ve been doing over the last few months…WRITING!!!! 🎉🎉🤓

In December last year I was minding my own business and catching up on the news, when a lovers’ tiff appeared on my social media  timeline. Now, I wouldn’t really count myself as particularly romantic but like most I have feelings too and a real beating heart behind my facade of…a deadly weapon…sorry where was I, yes touched by the romantic thread of apologies and pleads for a second chance so I challenged myself to go there too. 

It was easy peasy lemon….okay that was dishonest sorry. Well I hardly wanted to scare anyone by saying this project felt like a mental beatdown during the process. C’mon let’s keep it PG so back to the romance. Let me start by saying, I loudly applaud the seasoned romance novelists. I literally learnt the hard way that there is SO, SO and SO again MUCH MORE to the boy meets girl scenarios we observe in films. In fact I might need to watch a few romance films again to see if I can better appreciate the script. I now understand what the script writers would have endured to produce those gems… Especially, if you want the characters and circumstances to weave seamlessly into tension building scenes that others can also relate to and interpret in a similar fashion to the vision you hold in your mind. 

What did I do?

I researched and read many novels and Shakespearean based texts. Okay, sorry I didn’t really do that. 🤦‍♂️

 It would have been helpful, I’m sure but I didn’t do that because…well because I’m not trying to create similar stories to another bestselling author and generally I dont want to write like anyone else. I want to write like me.

What really happened?

I literally plucked an idea from my mind and ran with it, until I sort of  ran out of next scenes…you know hit a creative block. 

This was followed by a month of ignoring the heck out of it and thinking how to make the book more me; visually realistic but a touch awkward, brimming with delicious potential and a stroke of  genius. Ha!

Then after completing all the chores that were my only hopes at procrastinating, I found myself back in front of the unfinished pages. I could have ran away but I told myself,

 “Nope you’re going to get this done… 


My Sensei would have been proud, I was applying my learning to other areas of my life…huh?!!! See, I do listen. 😬😂

Anyway after months of chopping and changing (sorry sounds more interesting than editing and I have martial arts on my mind too but at least you know editing is in my vocabulary) I settled on how I wanted the print to end. 

How is this different to any other novel?

Well if you should know anything about my writing style, you’ll find that I’m sarcastic and quite uninhibited. I write things as they come to me, which is quite unfortunate for my blog as sometimes I have loads to say in a month and other times I’m a very distant memory. 

Most importantly I don’t spend time worrying about where my writing fits with others. Not in a cheeky way and yes, I’m aware that publishers like to ask this question. It’s perfectly fine to ask this question and my answer would be “I don’t know” but that’s okay because where some obsess about financial margins I don’t want to, I just really enjoy writing. 

If you’re reading this and you’re an editor please get in touch as I could really use another pair of eyes for the future if you know what I mean but otherwise thank you for reading. I hope to continue my next project tomorrow and if like me you write, leave it to marinate then return to it… I guess you must really enjoy the process too. 

All the best 

Teherah xXx
Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017

Ripple (Story)

The charmer sucked the life from the petals of the last Truth Tree and the people of Serenity were confounded by the sudden desire for conflict and terror.

The first wave brought nonsensical  killings and exploitation to rival all the previous founding wars. The blood shed was crippling and the landscape became blurred with nuclear remnants and thick smog of short-term memory. The second tide saw the arrival of rebellion and greed, as the people of Serenity shunned community in favour of their acquired autonomous values. The people saw no limits to their desires, after the loss of consciousness that followed the inhalation of smog fumes. The thrill of lies became irresistible and laws were no more than forgotten government records. Families ceased to exist as newborns were  immediately dumped after birth, the nights were touch and go for the vulnerable young babes as formerly domesticated animals became feral and feasted on their wailing flesh. The last current brought great unease and starvation as the rapid increase of predators meant that the fastest species were now the hunted. The tale of the charmer was the only consistent historical reminder, shared by word of mouth. His whereabouts and mission were unknown. The people of Sincerity were far too consumed by the temptation of power and the accumulation of fellows to search for anything outside themselves. 

Resharn quickly peered out of his hole and swallowed his anxiety, the flesh eating birds were back again. Gradually overtime they began to adapt to the poison he left for them and produced immune offspring. Feeling slightly  drowsy he drew his bow and arrows, he hadn’t eaten for days and his stock pile now consisted of the single sacred tin of beans. It came to him in a dream and he vowed to keep the tin intact, until the moment of use presented itself. It didn’t exactly make sense to him either but it did provide some comfort. Resharn dipped the tips of his arrows in his last cylinder of Halt, its fast acting paralysis inducing properties made it a great bargaining tool. Resharn looked over the cylinder momentarily weighing it in his left hand.

‘I’m not swapping this for a measly portion of meat. I’ll get my own.’ Resharn huffed as he laid on his stomach, feet still dangling inside the protective hole. He quietly assessed the activity of the birds and positioned his arrow before drawing his left hand. The arrow hurtled with great speed as it cut through the air and pierced the body of his targeted bird. Resharn made a fist with triumph but his glee was short-lived as the surrounding birds prepared to respond to the attack. The birds flew the distance of minutes in seconds and just missed Resharn’s head as he jumped down his hole and closed the door of his hideout. The repetitive thuds and clangs told him the birds were braver and equally determined to secure a meal. The squawks of fury fed his fear, as Resharn hurried towards the back of his hideout. He hoped to buy himself some time as he shakily dipped all the arrows in preparation and flicked on the monitor his breathing quietly mimicked his heartbeat…

Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017

(Pic from randombeautysls)

Here’s a link to part 2 if you’re ready for more.

I hope you’re having a good weekend and all the best.

Teherah xXx

Memories of the Marsh

Stretched across one another,
your hold elicits stares. 
Golden memories of our youth,
when we were vulnerable.
Slow dancing oblivious to interruption,
our journeys languidly intertwined. 
We both like the same things,
and still we changed with time. 
Shades just like two,
limbs displaying strength.
Dampening streams run down me, 
as I cling to you.

Copyright Teherah Wheeler (©) 2017

Teherah xXx