This is my October 7 |Nation and World |News

A fleet of colored cars on the road to heaven.Cost, search, love on the dance floor.Then, with the setting sun, the dream turned into a nightmare.

This is mine on October 7th

October 7, 2025 - 9:47 am

I'm Osher Daniel, a 24-year-old survivor of Nova Music Festival. That day, October 7th, is etched like a scar on me.

October 7. A convoy of colorful cars on the road to heaven. Clothing, justice, love on the roads.Then, at sunrise, the dream turned into a nightmare.We left the party at Nova - me, Asaf, Stav and what you thought was another morning near the Gaza border.Crossroads review, 10 terrorists on motorcycles, bullets, soldiers boiled to blood.We went through anyway, but at the next intersection we found rejected bodies and people crying for help.

We have no choice but to change, beyond the terrorists.It was a difficult decision but there was no other choice.In full.Bullets from all directions, Windows gnawing, cutting ect almost out.Stuv was hurt by the glass, but we continued.We tried to reach be'erri when Ebiv called and shouted, "Don't come, wadija terrorists."

While in traffic, I again saw the terrorists approaching.I yelled at everyone to get out of the car.We rushed to the safe-looking festival operating room.I couldn't be with Stav and Asaf.I ran towards the festival tent.Someone I knew took my hand and we ran together until we found shelter under the main stage.There were dozens of people.Prayers, blood, tears, complete silence.

After two hours, we heard calls to run south.It was a "death race".People were falling one by one.In one wadi, about 50 of us hid.Phone battery died, hope gone.One is shot in the leg, the other in the shoulder, both are having panic attacks.A policeman asked me to dig a hole and hide until he was rescued.I called my mother and I requested her not to come.I cried silently.

When we heard the role of terrorists, I knew it was time to run.I hid with a Muslim man who offered to help me.Ten minutes in the woods seemed like an eternity.When we arrived at the police station, they led us to a waiting car.We were met by soldiers at the checkpoint.I called my mother and told her that I was in safe hands.He cried with relief.

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On the way back, I saw horrors: burnt cars, blood, exhausted soldiers.When I reached arim, I thought the nightmare was over, but it wasn't.Stav and Asaf were absent.Four days later, I was told that Stav Barazani was killed.Twelve days later, news came about eAf edbeg.May their memory be bright.

I am alive, but the wounds remain deep.From all the evil, I learned one thing: I had to live, to understand my story.Today I say, share, speak on stage.I act in the play "Trigger Warning", practice breathing and cold exposure therapy and find healing through the Nova Tribe community.This is my strength, not only to survive, but to touch the hearts of others, so that we never forget.