The Princess of Tisul: The Woman Who Slept Beneath the Earth

The Princess of Tisul

The incident I am about to share with you…

you will probably never find in any official record.

Why? Because the Russian government never acknowledged that it ever took place.

They buried it, denied it, and erased it from every archive—

as if it never happened at all.

Which leaves us with a puzzle:

How much of this tale is truth?

And how much is rumor, reshaped by time and retelling?

But the story, as it has been whispered for decades, goes something like this—

A Town Wrapped in Forest

In the heart of central Russia lies a city called Kemerovo.

It is a place shrouded in mystery, hemmed in on all sides by dense, ancient forests—

the kind of forests that seem to breathe with secrets of their own.

The year was 1969.

One chilly morning, as dawn broke pale across the sky,

a group of coal miners descended into the earth to begin their shift.

For them, it was just another day, another routine.

Pickaxes, dust, sweat—life beneath the ground.

But that day would be different.

Seventy meters below the surface, their lamps flickering in the darkness,

they struck something unusual.

Not stone. Not coal.

Something smooth, polished, and cold to the touch.

It was a marble coffin.

The Discovery

At first, the men were only puzzled.

What could a coffin be doing here, so deep underground,

far beneath the layers of rock and soil?

With trembling hands, they pried at the heavy lid.

When it finally gave way, they peered inside—

and their hearts froze.

There, before their eyes, lay the body of a woman.

She looked no older than twenty-four, perhaps twenty-five.

Her features were delicate, her face serene, as if she had merely drifted into a gentle sleep.

Her skin was smooth and unblemished, glowing faintly in the dim lamplight.

Her hair—long, clean, and shining—fanned around her shoulders.

She was not dead, the miners thought.

No… she looked alive.

And yet, she was lying within a coffin,

her body fully immersed in a strange, rosy-colored liquid.

A Body Untouched by Time

The sight defied explanation.

The woman’s body was perfectly preserved,

as though time itself had refused to touch her.

It was as if the liquid in which she lay was some ancient preservative,

protecting her from decay for centuries, maybe even millennia.

Her cheeks held a faint flush, her lips looked soft,

and her closed eyes gave the impression that she might awaken at any moment.

But what struck the miners even more was her adornment.

She wore jewelry unlike anything seen in Russia—

intricate, delicate pieces of a design foreign to their land.

Bracelets that shimmered with unknown patterns,

rings that seemed to carry strange symbols,

a necklace that glimmered faintly in the light.

She did not belong to them.

She did not even belong to that time.

The Fragrance of the Unknown

From the coffin came a faint, sweet fragrance,

a perfume that hung in the damp air of the mine.

It was pleasant, almost intoxicating,

as though it carried with it a whisper of another world.

Yet the miracle began to fade as soon as the coffin was opened.

The rosy liquid, once bright, began to lose its color.

Slowly, it turned pale, lifeless.

And as it did, the young woman’s body began to change.

Her skin lost its glow.

Her cheeks grew dull.

The illusion of life slipped away,

and with it, the awe of the miners turned to dread.

Panic spread among them.

They hurried to lift the coffin out of the mine,

fearing that this marvel would vanish before their eyes.

The Silence That Followed

News of the strange discovery spread through the town like wildfire.

By evening, crowds had gathered, whispering, speculating.

But before the townsfolk could learn more,

black vehicles rolled in.

The KGB had arrived.

Without a word, the agents sealed the coffin,

loaded it onto a truck,

and vanished into the night.

From that day forward, the incident was erased.

No records, no reports, no official acknowledgment.

When asked, authorities scoffed.

They dismissed the story as nonsense—

an “urban legend,” a fabricated tale,

born from the imagination of simple coal miners.

But those who lived in Kemerovo never forgot.

Whispers of the Princess

Even now, decades later,

the people of that town still speak in hushed tones

of the woman they call:

“The Princess of Tisul.”

Who was she?

What land had she come from?

And what was that strange liquid,

that miraculous preservative lost to time?

No answers have ever been found.

Only questions.

And the haunting memory of a discovery

that should not have been possible.

Another strange and astonishing chapter

from the hidden pages of history.

Shared with you—

from me.

Thank you for reading.