“I'm not the echo

you thought you heard

when you mistook my breathing

for a familiar song.

I am the pause between notes,

the place where sound decides

whether to rise or fall.”

Aris Calder

Aris Calder

◈

The Margin Project

◈

Calder Literary

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Aris Calder ◈ The Margin Project ◈ Calder Literary ◈

  • The longer we walked, the more Redwood felt like a hollowed‑out shell. Rooms we knew by heart suddenly strange in their stillness. Even Thess, who never let anything rattle her, kept glancing over her shoulder as though expecting Theo to materialize out of the shadows. We split up for a while, calling his name in low voices that seemed to get swallowed by the walls. Each unanswered echo tightened the knot in my chest. By the time we regrouped in Commons, Thess looked ready to drop from exhaustion, and I was right there with her. “Where else would he even go?” she grunted, rubbing at her temples. I didn’t have an answer. Just a growing sense that we were circling something; some pocket of empty space he’d folded himself into, somewhere no one would think to look.

    —The Margin Project by Aris Calder, Chapter 017

  • The landscape stretched out before us in a wash of gold and green. The air was warm, not tropical exactly, but humid enough that it clung to the skin. A soft breeze carried the scent of wet earth and something sweet, like overripe fruit. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the broken remains of a city. We stood on the outskirts of it, an abandoned metropolis half‑claimed by nature. Towering buildings leaned at precarious angles, their glass facades shattered, vines crawling up their sides like eager fingers. Trees burst through cracked pavement. Birds, actual birds, circled overhead, their cries sharp and startling. It was beautiful. A place ending, and a place beginning.

    —The Margin Project by Aris Calder, Chapter 030

  • Some days I want to shimmer, crop tops full of glitter. And no, I won’t grow my hair, just to make your vision clearer.

    —Aris Calder