The end of Overlook Drive was dark. First there were houses, 1970s split-level houses. But they stopped before the wide curve where an orange grove took over. At night, sitting beside my father in the car, it looked like the road ended in darkness. Then around the curve and a 7 Eleven lit the next curve, which was much sharper.
One day in the early 80s a church bought a strip of that first curve and built a log cabin church. In the steeple of the church they put a window in the shape of a cross. I didn’t know until we were coming home late one night that the glass was red.
There were no other lights, but the red cross floating in the dark between the curve and the orange grove.
Later they built an ark in the side yard as a gift shop. I assumed the worst about the church, and wondered about the family that later bought the church and turned it into a home.
You put symbols into your fiction you never know how a reader will take it. What inspires one soul may disturb another–like a cross or the color red. Do you find that you go back to the same symbols in your fiction? Or have you not yet noticed?