Just a snippet I wrote in class!

Faces melted and morphed before his eyes. The skin oozing off of bone and muscle like magma off of rock. Sticky blood caramelising on the burning sticks. Looks of utter fear etched into the skulls of his sacrifices. It pleases him, this notion that he can control others emotions so definitely, inflict such pain. The fire crackles, sending puffs of foul-smelling smoke upwards and spits out pieces of kindling. It has been said that burning flesh is one of the worst scents in the world, but in this moment nothing had ever smelt so spectacular to him. It was the smell of success, of decaying twisted triumph. The night's glow hung high above him showed no signs of wavering in its unforgiving pitchness, the cold air biting at the tips of his nose and fingers only to be kissed away by the warmth of the flames cradling his calloused, dirty flesh.