Aurora

In 1348, during the Black Death, a small noble family in the French countryside sealed themselves in their chateau. Among them was Aurore de Carpathie, a young girl said to have been blessed by seven healers at birth — but cursed by the eighth.

Her father wrote in his plague journal that she fell into a “holy sleep” just as the disease reached the village. Her pulse was faint, her skin pale but warm. The family, believing it divine mercy, sealed her in her room, promising to wake her when the sickness passed.

When the castle was rediscovered centuries later, her chamber was perfectly preserved. The body on the bed hadn’t decayed. But the door was covered in scratch marks — from the inside.

The room was destroyed, and the remains buried in secret by the Church. But villagers claimed that, for years after, travelers sleeping near the ruins would dream of a golden-haired woman standing at their bedside, whispering:

“Don’t wake me. I’m not done dreaming.”

When Sleeping Beauty was adapted centuries later, this true account was cited by folklorist Charles Perrault as the “seed of inspiration” — though he conveniently omitted the scratches.