Hey Everyone,

My friend wrote a book, and we are looking for people to read it and write up some reviews. It is non-fiction, and is geared towards Young/Adults, and lovers of pop culture. The book follows Wendy "Wind" Cooper on her self discovering journey as she resides in the institution of Robin Oaks, a center for the emotionally disturbed youth. Meet wind, her friends, her family, and find out why wind bleeds. It's a pretty short, but solid read. It can be finished over a weekend!

When Wind Bleeds
by Tracie A. Koehnlein

A blank piece of paper stared at Wind, a reminder of her lack of creativity. After a few more minutes of brainstorming she came up with an idea: a piece of land with two trees on it. Simple. She wouldn’t be able to screw that up easily.
Her hand worked carefully as she drew two trunks and a myriad of little branches. Wind decided to make it a winter scene, so she wouldn’t have to draw any leaves, grass or flowers. She drew a few arches under the trunks and the trees looked like they were on snowy mounds.
This is an awful picture… The trees’ branches looked all bent and the arches didn’t really look like mounds of snow. Feeling defeated, Wind looked around the room, which was covered with artwork. She hadn’t looked at them very much when she walked in, just quickly glanced. When she really focused on the pictures she was completely enthralled. The walls were decorated with collages of pictures and newspapers, paintings, drawings, and things they didn’t even have a name for.
There was one rather large picture of Kurt Cobain with the word “GOD” written across it. Graphic art, angry art, even a few happy pieces. There was one picture of smiling people with the caption “What I’ll never be,” on the bottom. Some silly cartoon pictures also adorned the walls. She was mesmerized.
How can this thing ever compare? I should throw it out…
“Hey Windy,” Sarah said. “That’s pretty good.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“No I’m not, I like it. Why don’t you put some paint on it?”
“Paint?”
“Yeah, there’s some in little jars over there,” she pointed to a counter.
“Um… okay.”
Even if Sarah was lying, Wind felt good to hear someone say they liked the drawing. She walked over to the counter and picked out a jar of red paint and small brush.
When Wind got back to her seat she didn’t know what to do with the paint. Carelessly, she put a few wavy strokes of red across the gap between the two trees and space above them. It looks even worse now… Along with that, a few accidental drips of paint had gotten onto the paper too.
“That’s really cool!” Sarah exclaimed.
“Are you nuts? It’s terrible.”
“It is not! Jen, Ace, is her picture terrible?”
The two glanced at her picture.
“No,” Jennifer said quickly.
“It’s interesting,” Ace looked closer. “A barren field with two lone trees. And the blood.”
The blood... Wind hadn’t thought of it as blood, just red paint.
“Hey Damion! Alena! Vivica! Lookit what Windy made!” Sarah held the picture up for them to see.
“That’s not too bad,” Vivica said.
“Eh… it’s okay,” Alena replied.
Damion just looked and nodded, “Fine.” He was too absorbed in the strings of his beloved guitar to care.
“It's cool how it looks like the air is bleeding.” Sarah looked at it again.
“No, not the air,” Wind took her paper back and looked at it. “It’s not the air that’s bleeding.”
“Then what is?”
She looked at it, thinking for a few seconds. “The wind.”

(*Chapter 1*)
“Some stories are true that never happened.” ~Elie Weisel

A tractor-trailer lumbered by the window. Wind sighed, looking at the interior of the car. She had already done all of the travel “games” she could think of to keep busy. Comparing the ratios of red cars to blue cars, watching the white lines until she felt sick, listening to her parents argue about traffic, even staring at the sky. Sleep was impossible, and she had nothing to do. The car was a picture of boredom, a picture of boredom she had been riding in for over three hours.
She blankly stared at her bags next to her in the seat, wondering why they weren’t put in the trunk. Wind pulled up her jacket sleeve and saw the scars, remembering why she was in the car. There were a few slash marks around her wrist, the freshest ones. If only I had locked the door...
Her step-father, Allen looked in his rear-view mirror and saw her upset expression. “Hey, don’t look so sad,” he said optimistically. “It won’t be that bad. They might even have bunk beds. It could be like camp!”
She stared at his head in front of her, wondering what motivated him to say such a stupid thing.
“I don’t think they have bunk beds in crazy houses, Allen. They’re probably afraid people will jump to their death from the top or something. And I hate camps anyway.”
“Wendy!” her mother Linda said, turning towards her daughter. Wind flinched at the sound of her real name. “It is not a ‘crazy house.’ It’s a... a place where you can go to get better, and stop... doing that. Then when you get help you can come home and everything will be like it was. Don’t cop an attitude with your father like that, either.”
“Really now? Just a place I can ‘get better’?” she asked sarcastically.
It was crazy house; no one would convince her otherwise. And who said she wanted it to go back to the way it was? Allen wasn’t Wind’s father either, he never was, and never would be. What are they going to do anyway? Ground me?
She thought of something else to escape--about a cloud she’d seen, it looked like a huge feather. It was so cool, and she wished she’d had a camera at the time. It reminded her of the swan feather June’s mother gave her in the beginning of The Joy Luck Club. That was a good book...
The car began to pass through a little hick town. A watermelon stand here, a flea market there, and a farm selling dirt. Wind thought that the car ride was almost like Deborah’s in I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. She was sent away because she cut herself too…but only once.
They went over a bumpy dirt road for about twenty minutes, and suddenly came onto a paved road again. Linda rubbernecked over the dashboard. “I think we’re here.”
“This place looks pretty nice,” Allen added.
Nice? Wind looked to at the red building in front of her. It looked like a hospital, with the words “Robin Oaks Home and School For Disturbed Youth” printed on the side. If that wasn’t proof it was a crazy house, nothing was. Places like that were always named after some kind of tree. It must have been to make it sound peaceful.
Allen put the car in park, and he and his wife got out.
“Come Wendy, get your bag,” Linda beckoned.
Wind groaned, picking up one of the heavy bags. Allen grabbed the other as they all walked into the front glass doors. It looked like a hospital inside too, with white tile floors and rough, black carpeting scattered in front of doors. There was a waiting room with lots of chairs and magazines to the right, and doors to rooms or offices on the left. Linda and Allen walked up to the orange obstruction that blocked everyone from viewing the receptionist behind it.
“I’m Linda Cooper, and this is my husband Allen. We’re signing in our daughter Wendy today.”
“Oh yes, the self-harmer, correct?” Linda squirmed at the term “self-harmer.” “Yes, we’ve been expecting you for about an hour or so now.”
“Bumper to bumper traffic on Route 95,” Allen explained.
She laughed. “Oh yes, that happens all the time. Her assigned therapist, Dr. Morgan would like to speak with you before you leave. She’ll go over your daughter’s treatment, and what her stay here will be like. You just go into that door over there,” she pointed to one on the left, and picked up a large walky-talky. “Dr. Morgan, please report to the lobby conference room. Dr. Morgan, please report to the lobby conference room. Thank you.” She smiled as the two went into the door, leaving their daughter and her luggage in the lobby.
Wind walked over to a directory on the wall.
Ground Floor- Lobby and Infirmary
First floor (Ward A)- Substance related disorders
Second floor (Ward B)- Eating disorders
Third floor (Ward C)- Self-harming behaviors
Fourth floor (Ward D)- Psychotic behaviors
Wow, a whole floor of people who cut... She could barely believe it, so read the line again. “Third floor (Ward C)- Self-harming behaviors.”
“You can sit down you know, over there,” the receptionist pointed to the chairs. “Oh yes, and you can leave your bags here too, if you’d like.”
Wind went over to the waiting area, trying to count how many times the receptionist said “yes.” She sat down in one of the plastic turquoise chairs. Her boredom was picking up again, so she grabbed a teen magazine and opened it to the advice columns.
Dear Helen,
I have this problem. The other day my boyfriend and I were getting pretty hot and heavy, when.. this thing happened. I had a major discharge. And when I say major, I mean it looked like I wet my pants! My boyfriend didn’t mind though, he gave me his sweatshirt to tie around my waist when we went back out into the party. I mean.. is there something wrong with me? Why would I have such a big discharge?
Arching an eyebrow, Wind flipped to another page. The quote blown up in the middle of the article was “when i came home, my bra was filled with blood.” She slapped the magazine shut. O...kay, no more magazines…
The therapist had gone in to talk with her parents by then. I wonder what they’re saying about me... Knowing she’d have to sit there for a while longer, Wind leaned back, and slipped into another daydream.

(*Chapter 2*)
“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries of life disappear and life stands explained.” ~Mark Twain

“We’re going to go in a few minutes,” Linda’s voice awoke Wind from her trance. “Your father and I talked to Dr. Morgan, and she seems very understanding.” Her daughter nodded, standing up. “So, uh... we’re going to leave.”
Wind noticed the longing in her mother’s voice, and tears welling up in her eyes. How could anyone not feel guilty? Linda wrapped her arms around her daughter tightly, and kissed her. “You’ll come home soon, okay?” she said in a comforting tone, trying to convince herself.
Good lord… “Mhmm.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.” She didn’t mean it, like always.
Linda hugged her one last time and wiped a few tears from her eyes.
Allen came closer. He better not try and hug me... He patted Wind on the shoulder. “See ya, kiddo.”
Wind shook her head and walked over to the desk. “Where do I go now?”
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. You have to get a physical examination done before you’re admitted. I’ll show you to the room and keep your bags under my desk for when you need them.” She got up and walked her to a small exam room. “After you’re done, you’ll be shown your room upstairs. The doctor will be in momentarily, just wait here for a few minutes.” The receptionist left Wind alone in the exam room.
It was a typical doctor’s exam room. A scale, sink, table with paper on it, and diplomas on the wall. She closely inspected the glass jars with tongue depressors and cotton balls, and the shine of the silvery tops. White drawers and cabinets surrounded the sink. Being in the room made her think of how Vada always went to Dr. Welty’s office in My Girl. I love that movie... Wind knew the whole film by heart, and had memorized the opening monologue. “I was born jaundiced. Once I sat on a toilet seat at a truck stop and caught hemorrhoids. And I’ve learned to live with this chicken bone that’s been lodged in my throat for the past three ye-”
“Wendy? Wendy Cooper?” a voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you Wendy Cooper?”
Wind swiveled around to see a young, female doctor with a clipboard. “Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Savino, and I’ll be doing the exam.”
“Okay,” Wind answered, uneasily.
“First I need to ask you a few questions. Birthday?”
“August fourth, 1988.”
“Do you smoke or drink? I won’t tell your parents the answers to these, so don’t worry.”
“No, I don’t do that.”
“Any illegal drugs like marijuana or cocaine?”
“No!” she replied, trying to keep her voice below a yell.
“Are you sexually active?”
Wind almost burst out laughing. “Not a chance.”
“Do you cut?” Dr. Savino asked, in a businesslike manner.
Why did she have to ask that one? “Yes.”
“Any burning, bruising, or hair pulling?”
Her face contorted into an uncomfortable expression and she fidgeted. “No.”
“Excessive nail biting?”
She looked down at her half-bitten nails. “I wouldn’t call it excessive.”
The doctor picked up Wind’s hands to look at her fingers. She seemed satisfied.
“Where on your body do you cut?”
Where?! “Where?” Wind asked nervously.
“Yes, where. On your arms, ankles, legs...”
“Arms... and… thighs.”
She kept writing. “Okay, now the actual exam. Take your shoes off and get on the scale please.” Wind did as she was told, and stood still. Dr. Savino ran the weight along the bar. “I don’t need you girls going anorexic on me too.”
Was that supposed to be funny?
Other monotonous check-up procedures such as looking in her ears and listening to her heartbeat were done during Wind’s exam. Aside from normal discomfort she had at every doctor visit, Wind was relieved that nothing out of the ordinary had been done. Maybe it won’t be as bad as I thought…
After collecting a urine sample in the bathroom Wind handed the cup to the doctor. “Are we done now?”
“Almost. I need to take this down to a lab to be drug, pregnancy tested and what not. When I come back we have to do a body check, so in the meantime, strip.”
Wind's body burned with fear as the doctor left. Strip? Show my body? Show my cuts? Oh God this IS as awful as I thought it would be… What the hell am I going to do now?! Before she could protest Wind realized the doctor had left the room. She opened the door and yelled anxiously down the hall.

* To request more of this reading, and to write and submit a review yourself, please e-mail Mia: *

[Author Profile]
Name: Tracie A. Koehnlein

About the Author: “I am currently studying social work Alvernia University and have been writing stories since I was six years old. I currently work as a writing tutor at Alvernia University and intern at Kidspeace Foster Care in Reading, PA. When Wind Bleeds is one of my first novels which I began writing when I was fifteen. I have interests in animals, films, scrapbooking and (obviously) books.”

Biography: “I was born in New York and raised in Queens the first few years of my life, and then in New Jersey from age five to seventeen. I began writing stories in first grade, the same year I learned how to read and the length and depth of my writing progressed as my age did. A great deal of my childhood involved animals, and I planned to become a veterinarian until age thirteen when I decided to pursue a career in mental health. I self-taught myself many ways to help troubled people, and chose a college major in social work with a minor in addictions.”

Inspiration: “My inspiration for When Wind Bleeds was my friends in high school. I had many friends who were abused, self-harmed and some that were involved in drugs. There seemed to be so little help and understanding for them, both socially and professionally, so I took it upon myself to not only help them but make others aware of similar struggles. Along with being a form of an entertainment, When Wind Bleeds allows others to look into a teenaged world of self-harm, child abuse, and mental illness that only a small amount of outsiders see properly.”

What people are saying:
“When Wind Bleeds chronicles the struggles of a young girl as she is thrown into the psychiatric unit of Robin Oaks, a world far removed from her own, and through her eyes ours are opened to another, hidden, side of our society. In here Koehnlein successfully leads us into a world fraught with pain, yet manages to show us that there is hope even in the darkest hour. A highly recommended read.”
-Alexandra “Shadow” Walsh