We each owe a death – there are no exceptions – but, oh God, sometimes the Green Mile seems so long.
I think Mr. Jingles happened by accident. I think when we electrocuted Del, and it all went so badly… well, John can feel that you know… and I think a part of… whatever magic was inside of him just lept through my tiny friend here. As for me, John had to give me a part of himself; a gift the way he saw it, so that I could see for myself what Wild Billy had done. When John did that; when he took my hand, a part of the power that worked through him spilled into me.
That’s as good a word as any. He infected us both, didn’t he, Mr. Jingles? With life. I’m a hundred and eight years old, Elaine. I was forty-four the year that John Coffey walked the Green Mile. You mustn’t blame John. He couldn’t help what happened to him… he was just a force of nature. Oh I’ve lived to see some amazing things Elly. Another century come to past, but I’ve… I’ve had to see my friends and loved ones die off through the years… Hal and Melinda… Brutus Howell… my wife… my boy. And you Elaine… you’ll die too, and my curse is knowing that I’ll be there to see it. It’s my attonement you see; it’s my punishment, for letting John Coffey ride the lightning; for killing a miracle of God. You’ll be gone like all the others. I’ll have to stay. Oh, I’ll die eventually, that I’m sure. I have no illusions of immortality, but I will wished for death… long before death finds me. In truth, I wish for it already.
I guess sometimes the past just catches up with you, whether you want it to or not.
They usually call death row the Last Mile, but we called ours the Green Mile, because the floor was the color of faded limes. We had the electric chair then. Old Sparky, we called it. I’ve lived a lot of years, Ellie, but 1935 takes the prize. That was the year I had the worst urinary infection of my life. That was also the year of John Coffey and the two dead girls.
