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A long time ago at the College of William and Mary, there lived a beautiful belle from a great southern family.  One night during her first year at the College, she was on her way home from a costume ball and she heard the bells of the Wren building ringing.  She looked up and saw the hideous figure of a hunchback in the bell tower.  She longed to stay and watch him, but her friends were in a rush and pulled her home.  The hunchback, though, saw her too and instantly fell in love with her.  The beautiful belle thought little of the hunchback and went on her way, merrily climbing trees.  Perhaps by coincidence and perhaps not, the hunchback enjoyed climbing trees too.  He was rather practiced at it from climbing around in his tower.       Later the same year, a bright young journalist arrived at the school to study the Wren building, and because he had met the hunchback before, lived with him while he was writing his article.  The journalist was also friends with the beautiful belle's sister, and one night took him to her mansion.  By this time the belle had heard scary rumors of a hunchback who climbed trees, and her sister urged her to be cautious.  The hunchback too had heard the name of a girl who climbed and was fascinated.  When the two met eyes in the belle's mansion, the hunchback -- although ashamed of his appearance -- let the name he heard escape from his lips.      The two went off that very night and climbed higher than either the hunchback or the belle had climbed before, higher even than the bell tower.  They spent the night visiting ghosts, and the belle played music for the hunchback.  By midnight, the hunchback had forgotten his duties to ring the bell and ran back to the Wren building, while the belle promised to wait for him.  He rang the twelve strokes so quickly that he almost collapsed, but still had enough energy to run back to the belle as quickly as his misshapen body could carry him.       He reached her completely exhausted, and she pulled him onto a gorgeous bench by a dainty bridge, his shaggy head resting on her chest.  She looked down at him and he up at her, and they kissed a fabulous storybook kiss.      And every night since he has thought of her as he rings the bells at the stroke of midnight.      And always will. by Jack Simonson, for Amy Edwards