The Flow

So Dr. Ed woke up in the middle of body-bubbling. He just couldn't bear it anymore: the announcement of the crimson calling was just knocking at his door, with his own hand.
-It's just blood- he said as he looked at his knuckle, spilling torrents of viscous red light.
He stayed unalarmed, until the irresistible burning joy of liquid sparkles translated into uncontrollable spasms of unexpected freedom, forcing him to spin in the ground, spilling, splattering and circling, painting the floor with the light formerly coming out from his enlightened hand.
So Dr. Ed is home no more. The traces of the spiral painted with red light on the ground have grown dim.

Geez, Dr. Ed, where might you have gone to?