Nexxus 604 - Acid Christmas - Psychedelic trance mix

Описание: SoundCloud:   / fafne2xt8dqmpzln6  
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It was a Christmas unlike any other in the heart of a snowy forest, where the trees stood tall and cloaked in frost, their branches heavy with glowing icicles that softly illuminated the night. Santa Claus trudged through the fresh snow, his red suit dulled and his usual cheer nowhere to be found. His sleigh stood behind him, the reindeer pawing impatiently at the ground, their bells jingling softly in the stillness.

"This endless routine," Santa grumbled, his voice low but sharp. "Year after year, the same thing—gifts, smiles, and no one ever stops to wonder if I’m tired of it all."

The snow began to fall heavier, each flake catching the dim light and sparkling like tiny stars. Around him, figures began to emerge—snowmen, built by unseen hands, their round faces tilted toward him in silent curiosity. Their eyes, made of dark coal, seemed to glint with life. Santa stopped, startled, as the snowmen began to move, their round bodies rolling gracefully across the snow-covered ground.

“Santa,” one of them said in a voice like the crunch of fresh snow, “why do you carry this burden if it weighs so heavily on you?”

Santa scowled, his frustration bubbling over. “Because it’s what I’ve always done. Who else is going to do it? No one understands how exhausting it is.”

The snowmen exchanged glances before one stepped forward. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten why you started,” it said. “Christmas isn’t about the weight of the gifts—it’s about the lightness of the moment.”

As the snow fell harder, Santa looked around. The trees began to shimmer as strings of lights wound their way through the branches, casting a warm glow over the clearing. The reindeer raised their heads, their breath visible in the cold air, and jingled their bells in a soft, harmonious rhythm. The snowmen began to sing—not the traditional carols Santa knew, but a simple, resonant tune that echoed through the forest, lifting something heavy from his chest.

Santa sat down on a nearby log, his frustration melting away like snow in the sun. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to pause, to listen, to feel. The gifts in his sleigh seemed to radiate warmth, as if reminding him that they weren’t just objects—they were symbols of connection, of care.

When the song ended, Santa stood, his expression softer. He walked to his sleigh, giving the reindeer an affectionate pat, and turned to the snowmen. “Perhaps I did forget,” he said quietly. “Thank you for reminding me.”

The snowmen nodded, their round faces lit with faint smiles, before collapsing back into heaps of snow. The forest grew still once more, but something was different. Santa climbed into his sleigh, the reins firm in his hands, and with a crack of his whip, the reindeer lifted off into the sparkling sky.

This time, his laughter rang out—not forced, not weary, but full of genuine joy. As he soared through the night, the snow-covered forest below seemed to glow a little brighter, carrying with it the quiet magic of a renewed Christmas spirit.

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