This story happened back in the days when schoolchildren wrote with quill pens, dipping the sharpened tip of the pen into an inkwell. Ordinary ballpoint pens didn't exist back then. They simply hadn't been invented yet.
Writing with quills was no easy task. They would squeak when you wrote, and if you dipped the tip of the pen too deep into the inkwell, a blot could drip onto the paper.
Yes, yes, a big black blot that could get you a failing mark.
A boy named Kolya knew what it was like when a blot suddenly plopped down in the most inconvenient place. He would have to rewrite the entire page. And since Kolya was a restless and quick-witted boy, he had to do this very often.
So this time, when half a page of handwriting practice had already been filled, a big black Blot jumped off the tip of Kolya's pen.
Nasty blot! Because of you I won't be able to go and play with the boys. I'll have to rewrite everything again.
Kolya jumped up from the table and ran to the kitchen to tell his older sister about his grievance.
Meanwhile, the Blot looked around and saw that she was not in the inkwell, but on a white notebook page. On the thin lines were little letters, dots and commas. They all looked at the stranger in surprise and whispered to each other.
Look, look, it's a Blot! What is she doing here?
The consonants asked indignantly.
She doesn't look like us at all!
The vowels declared.
And she ruins the whole notebook page!
The exclamation mark said loudly.
The Blot felt very hurt. She wanted to shout at them that she, just like them, came out of the inkwell. It's just that there was much more ink in her than in them. But the noise was so loud that no one would have heard the Blot.
And she decided to leave this notebook and go wherever her eyes took her.
Quietly, she moved to the maths notebook. But she wasn't welcome here either. The numbers, neat and tidy, were not pleased with such a neighbour. Sniffling from hurt, the Blot moved on. And soon found herself near an album.
On the open album page was a picture titled
