The First Jump

The Village and My Father's Death

My name is Yamen Honorif, and I was born in a small village in northern Israel called M'iliya (ميليّا). Unlike most of the country, which spoke Hebrew, our village was Arab, so my first language was Arabic.

I never knew my father.

When I was just a year and a half old, he died from a tear in his lungs. They said it was because he smoked too much. He was a chemist, always surrounded by strange liquids and powders in his lab. Maybe it was the cigarettes. Maybe it was the chemicals. Either way, he was gone before I was old enough to remember his voice.

My mother never talked much about him. She just kept moving forward, raising me alone.

Bullies, Karate, and a Troubled Childhood

Kindergarten was hell.

I was smaller than the other kids, quieter too. That made me an easy target. Shoving. Name-calling. Even teachers ignored it. My mother noticed the bruises, the torn shirts, and the way I flinched when she reached out to fix my collar. She decided I needed to fight back.

That's how I ended up in karate classes at the age of five.

At first, I hated it. The drills. The stretches. The endless repetition. But soon, my kicks got faster. My punches got stronger. And the next time someone tried to push me? They regretted it.

But being strong didn't make me safe. It made me reckless. I stopped caring about school. Fights became routine. Detentions stacked up like trophies. I started running away from class, roaming the streets like a stray dog.

My mother couldn't take it anymore. She packed our things, grabbed my wrist, and we left.

A New Start in Haifa

We moved to Haifa, settling near Sammy Ofer Stadium. Everything was different—new school, new apartment, new city.

She enrolled me in Hiwar School (which means "conversation" in Arabic). Fourth grade, surrounded by strangers. I was overwhelmed, lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar rules.

But life went on.

I learned the bus routes, and figured out which teachers were strict and which ones didn't care. I found friends. And for the first time in years, things felt stable.

Then war came.

October 7th, 2023 – When the World Changed

It started like any other morning. Then suddenly, sirens. Air-raid warnings screamed through the city, cutting through conversations and laughter. The news flashed across every screen: Israel and Hamas were at war.

School shut down. Classes moved online. My mother moved us again—this time to an apartment in Ramat HaNasi (רמת הנשיא). It felt like the world was crumbling, but eventually, a ceasefire was signed. We returned to school, which, oddly enough, had been a hospital before becoming a classroom.

And life continued.

February 7th, 2025 – The Day It All Changed

By now, I was in seventh grade.

But I didn't look it.

I was taller than most kids, standing at least a head above them. A light mustache dusted my upper lip, and the beginnings of a beard traced my jawline. My hair was a mess—uncut, untamed, curling wildly over my forehead. Every trip to the barbershop ended in frustration, so I just let it grow.

For once, I was happy.

No bullies. No fights. Just normal, peaceful life.

Then, one night, everything changed.

I went to sleep in my bed.

And woke up somewhere else.

A Strange Awakening

I was standing.

Not lying in my bed. Standing.

At first, my vision was blurred, like looking through a fogged-up window. My body felt... off. Taller. Heavier. My arms, my legs—they moved, but I wasn't controlling them.

The world sharpened into focus.

I was inside the Azrieli Haifa Mall.

Panic surged in my chest. How did I get here? Had I sleepwalked? Was I dreaming?

I tried to stop walking, but my legs kept moving on their own. I was trapped inside my own body, a silent passenger.

Then, just as suddenly, control snapped back into place.

I stumbled, my breath ragged.

What the hell was happening?

A girl walked beside me.

I didn't recognize her.

She had chestnut-brown hair, cut just past her shoulders, with golden highlights catching the mall's fluorescent lights. She was shorter than me by at least ten centimeters. She turned to me, saying something excitedly.

But I couldn't hear her.

My ears were ringing. A high-pitched, piercing noise, drowning out everything but the sound of my own footsteps.

Then—

Darkness.

Back to Reality?

I woke up in my bed.

Sweating. Heart pounding. Chest heaving.

A nightmare.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I got up, stretched, did some sit-ups, brushed my teeth, and spent the entire day watching anime. Just another lazy weekend.

But then, that night—

It happened again.

The same blurred vision. The same ringing ears. The same loss of control.

Except this time, I felt everything.

The cold air-conditioning of the mall. The pressure of my feet against the tiled floor. The fabric of my shirt brushing against my skin.

This wasn't a dream.

February 9th, 2025 – Something is Wrong

Monday. School day.

I took bus no. 115 as usual, sitting in my regular seat near the window. The ride was uneventful, but when I arrived at school—

Something was wrong.

My classmates… had changed.

They were taller. Their faces sharper. Their voices deeper.

It wasn't just them.

I felt different too.

Confused, I excused myself during math class and headed to the bathroom. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes locked onto the mirror.

I felt my stomach drop.

The reflection staring back at me was older.

My jawline was sharper. My shoulders broader. My arms, more defined.

This wasn't me.

Not the me from two days ago.

Hands trembling, I pulled out my phone.

The lock screen displayed the date:

February 9th, 2026.

A whole year had passed.